It was enough to break even the sturdiest heart, Bolitho thought heavily. And coupled with the fact that they had not sighted a single sail, and knew nothing of events beyond the mocking horizon, he found it was all he could do to restrain his own mounting impatience.

“How are the men?” He reached for a clean shirt and then relented. The old one would have to do. There was little point in badgering his servant to wash more clothes than necessary.

Ellice shrugged. “Not happy, sir. ’Tis bad enough as it is without hungering after a drink all the time.”

“Water is precious, Mr Ellice.” It was now reduced to a pint a day per man, which was less than adequate. But there was no telling how long it would be before their senseless vigil was broken. He had increased the daily ration of Miss Taylor, as the rough white wine from the victualling yard was named, but its satisfaction was only temporary. Within a few hours the drinker would be left as dry as before. He added as an afterthought, “They must get as much fresh fruit as we can spare. It is the only thing to keep down disease out here.”

It was odd how much clamour and argument there had been in Antigua when he had insisted on a full cargo of fruit to be shipped for his crew. Maybe that was what the admiral had meant when he had said, “You are an idealist in many ways!” But to Bolitho’s practical mind it was only being sensible. Even though he had paid for the fruit from his own pocket he knew it was more of a good investment than a method of arousing favouritism with his men. A fit and healthy sailor was worth far more than a basket of fruit. In fact, the normal wastage did not stop there. Other men were used to care for their sick comrades, and their work had to be taken on by still more men. And so it went on, yet there were still plenty of captains who could see no further than their prize-money as a measure of success.

He tucked his shirt into his breeches and said, “Take a glass if you will, Mr Ellice.” He looked away ashamed as the big, untidy man shambled quickly to the sideboard and slopped a generous portion of brandy into his goblet. Ellice’s hand shook as he poured and downed a second glass before mumbling, “Thankee, sir. That’s the first today!”

Bolitho glanced at the shadow of the stern, close to the barely moving wake. The sun was high in the sky. It was more than likely that Ellice had already consumed a goodly portion from his private store.

“I did not see you go ashore in Antigua, Mr Ellice? You had only to ask.”

Ellice licked his lips and shot a quick glance at the decanter. “I never go on land now, sir, thankee all the same. At first I used to wander like a lovesick girl amongst the grass and weep when the shoreline dropped over the sea’s edge.” He saw Bolitho nod towards the decanter and hurriedly poured another drink. “Now when the ship sails I hardly looks up.” He shook his head as if to restore some broken memory. “Anyway, I’ve seen it all!”