‘Two points off the starboard bow!’ The lookout thrust his arm out and the officers on the quarterdeck turned to scan the horizon in that direction. For a while they could see nothing; then the ship lifted on to the crest of a large ocean roller and there was the coast, a thin dark strip with flashes of white cliffs.

‘What land’s that?’ Arthur squinted. Hodges was quiet for a moment, bracing his legs as he trained his glass on the distant coast before the ship slumped down into a trough and he snapped the telescope shut. He laughed bitterly.

‘It’s the Needles.’

‘The Needles?’ Arthur shook his head. ‘Impossible! How can it be? We’ve been at sea for nearly two months.’

‘It’s this bloody storm. We’ve made no headway against it. Now it’s blown us back to England.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘What can I do? We’ve consumed two months’ provisions, the rigging has been strained to breaking point and two of my sails have been torn to pieces in the wind. We’re heading back to port.’

The next morning the transport eased its way up Southampton Sound on reduced sail. Hodges joined Arthur at the rail and pointed to a cluster of ships moored in the sound. ‘Recognise them? That’s the rest of the convoy.Wonder how long they’ve been here?’

As soon as the transport had taken on the mooring line and reefed in all the sails Arthur went ashore in one of the ship’s boats. Stepping on to dry land was a strange experience after seven wild weeks at sea. The very cobbles beneath his boots seemed to cant and tilt as wildly as the deck of the ship and Arthur frowned angrily as his sea legs took him clumsily down the quay to the harbour master’s headquarters. The current office-holder was Rear Admiral Porter, a relic of a bygone age in his powdered wig. As Arthur was ushered into his office Porter eased himself stiffly up from his chair and pumped Arthur’s hand.

‘Good to see you again, Colonel. Just beginning to wonder if your ship had foundered. Rest of the convoy’s been in port for the best part of a month.’

‘A month?’ Arthur shook his head. While Hodges and his crew had been battling the elements to win every scrap of distance they could to the west, the other crews had been sitting snug in the sound.

‘Ah!’ Porter raised a hand. ‘While I think of it, you have new orders. Arrived from London last week. Over there on the table. Go and get them, man, and I’ll order you a drink. What’s your poison, Wesley?’

‘Tea, please, sir. A nice hot pot of tea.’

Porter chuckled. ‘I’ll see to it.’