But as Herrick had been about to rebolt the door Allday had asked quietly, “D’you think they’ll send me home for court martial, sir?”

Herrick knew that the Navy would have other ideas. Justice was swift and final. But as he had stared at the heavy studded door he had heard himself reply, “Maybe they will. Why do you ask?”

The answer had been muffled, as if Allday had turned his face away. “I would like to see the green hills again. Just once. Even for a few minutes!”

The sadness and despair of those last words had dogged Herrick for the rest of the day, and now during his watch they were with him still.

“Damn!” He spoke aloud with sudden anger, and the two helmsmen jerked upright by the wheel as if he had struck them.

The senior man watched anxiously as Herrick walked towards the wheel and said quickly, “Full an’ bye, sir! Course south by east!”

Herrick stared at him and then at the gently swinging compass card. Poor devils, he thought vaguely. Scared sick because I swore aloud.

A dark figure moved from the lee rail and walked slowly towards him. It was Proby, his heavy jowls glowing faintly from his short clay pipe.

Herrick said, “Can’t you sleep, Mr Proby? The breeze is slight but steady now. There’ll be nothing for you to attend to tonight.”

The master sucked noisily at the stem. “It’s the best time of the night, Mr Herrick. You can look into the wind’s eye and think about what you’ve done with your life!”

Herrick looked sideways at Proby’s crumpled features. In the pipe glow his face looked like a piece of weatherworn sculpture, but there was something reassuring about him all the same. Timeless, like the sea itself.

He said at length, “Do you think we have heard the last of Evans’s death?”

“Who can say?” Proby shifted on his flat feet. “It takes time to clean such a deed from a man’s memory. Aye, it takes a long time.”

The pipe glow suddenly vanished in the palm of Proby’s beefy hand, and he said tersely, “The captain is on deck, Mr Herrick!” Then in a louder, matter-of-fact tone he said, “We should make a good landfall tomorrow if this wind holds. So I’ll bid you good night, Mr Herrick!”

Then he was gone, and Herrick moved towards the lee rail. From the corner of his eye he could see Bolitho standing straight against the weather rail, the moonlight sharp across his white shirt as he stared at the glittering reflections beyond the ship.

Bolitho had not left the quarterdeck for more than an hour at a time, and ever since Allday’s arrest he had been seen by the taffrail, either pacing the deck or just staring out to sea, as he was now.

Earlier Herrick had overheard the master speaking to Quintal, the boatswain, and now as he watched Bolitho’s motionless figure the words came back to him. Quintal had said in a hoarse whisper, “I didn’t know he felt like that about Evans. He seems fair troubled by it all!”