There was a tap at the door, but before Bolitho could call, it burst open and Lieutenant Vibart stamped into the cabin. He looked strained and angry, and wasted no time in breaking his news.

“I have to report that we are almost out of fresh water, sir.”

Bolitho studied him for a few seconds. “What do you mean?”

Vibart glanced round the cabin. “I have the cooper outside, sir. It might save time if he told you!”

Bolitho ignored Vibart’s insolent manner. “Send him in.” He was glad that the sea’s reflected glare kept his face in deep shadow. At every turn events seemed to twist and mock at his efforts. Now this, the one predominant worry, had been fanned alight even as he had been openly discussing it with Ellice.

Mr Trevenen, the Phalarope’s cooper, was an undersized warrant officer who was known for his extremely bad eyesight. Too long in too many darkened holds had left him half blind, like some creature of the night. Now, as he stood blinking and shifting uneasily under Bolitho’s stare he looked small and defenceless.

Bolitho stifled his usual feeling of pity which inevitably arose on the rare occasions of meeting the cooper. “Well, spit it out, man! What the hell have you discovered?”

Trevenen gulped miserably. “I’ve been doin’ my rounds, sir. You see I always does ’em on a Thursday. If you build up a system of inspections you can . . .”

Vibart bellowed, “Tell him, you old fool!”

The cooper said in a small voice, “Two thirds of me casks are foul with salt water, sir.” He peered at his feet. “I don’t understand it, sir. In all my years afloat I never seen nothin’ like it.”

“Hold your damned tongue!” Vibart looked as if he would strike the wretched man. “Admit that you made a mistake at Antigua. You’re so bloody blind you don’t know the difference! If I had my way I’d . . .”

Bolitho made himself speak slowly to give his mind time to recover from the shock. “If you please, Mr Vibart! I think I can evaluate the extent of this information!” He turned again to Trevenen. “Are you sure now?”

The wrinkled head nodded violently. “No mistake about it, sir!” He looked up, his faded eyes filling his face. “In all my years, sir, I never . . .”

“I know, Mr Trevenen, you just told us.” Bolitho added to Vibart sharply, “Have the casks checked for yourself, Mr Vibart. Separate the fresh ones from the others, and see that the salt water is drained away and the wood cleaned off.”

He strode to the chart and leaned across it, his face set in a deep frown. “We are here.” He tapped the chart with the heavy dividers. “Fifty miles south-west of Guadeloupe, give or take a mile.” He picked up his ruler and ran it across the thick parchment. “There are some small islands to the south of us. Uninhabited and useless except for wrecking the unwary sailor.” He made a small cross on the chart and stood up. “Call the hands and prepare to wear ship, Mr Vibart. This breeze, slight though it is, will suit our purpose.”