He dropped his eyes to the deck as Vibart said, “May I ask if we’re being despatched to the Indies because of the trouble we had aboard, sir?” He stared unflinchingly at Bolitho’s grey eyes, his voice challenging.

“You may ask.” Bolitho watched him narrowly. There was something dominant about Vibart. A sense of inner force which seemed to cow all the others into mere spectators. He said calmly, “I have studied the reports and the logs. I consider that the near-mutiny,” he let his voice hang on the last word, “was caused as much by negligence as anything else.”

Vibart replied hotly, “Captain Pomfret trusted his officers, sir!” He pointed to the books on the table. “You can see from the log books that the ship did all which could be expected of her!”

Bolitho pulled a book from beneath the others and saw Vibart look momentarily off guard.

“I often find that this, the punishment book, is a better gauge of a ship’s efficiency.” He turned the pages idly, forcibly hiding the disgust he had felt when he had first examined it. “In the past six months over a thousand lashes were awarded to the crew.” His voice was cold. “Some men received four dozen at a time. One apparently died after punishment.”

Vibart said thickly, “You can’t win men by weakness, sir!”

“Nor by senseless cruelty, Mr Vibart!” His tone was like a whip. “In future I will have more attention to leadership than to brutality in my ship!” He controlled his voice with an effort. “Also, I want every man fitted out with proper clothing from the slop chest before we reach Falmouth. This is a King’s ship and not a Spanish slaver!”

There was a sudden heavy silence, so that ship and sea intruded into the cabin. The clatter of deck gear, the sluice of the tide around the rudder, and the distant bark of commands added to Bolitho’s sense of isolation.

He continued evenly, “At Falmouth we will make efforts to increase our company to full strength. I will send parties of trusted hands ashore to press suitable men for service. Not cripples and young boys, but men. Do I make myself clear?”

Most of them nodded. Lieutenant Okes said carefully, “I have often read of your exploits in the Gazette, sir.” He swallowed painfully and glanced quickly at Herrick. “I think the whole ship will be happy to have you as captain.” His voice trailed away miserably and he fidgeted with his sword.

Bolitho nodded. “Thank you, Mr Okes.” He could not afford to add anything else. Okes might be seeking favouritism, or making haste to cover up some old misdemeanour. But still, it was a beginning.

He added, “I cannot alter what Captain Pomfret did or did not do. I have my own ways, and I expect them to be considered at all times.” From the corner of his eye he saw the master shaking his head doubtfully. “Do you wish to say anything, Mr Proby?”