Bolitho answered stubbornly, “I still say we shall be in a better position to report and, if necessary, shadow the enemy, sir.”

The admiral stood up and began to pace with sudden agitation. “If only I could get some real news! I sent the brig Witch of Looe away days ago to try and gain intelligence, but with this damn climate what can you expect?” He stared through the open stern windows. “Sometimes we are becalmed for days on end. The war could be over for all I know!”

Bolitho said, “I could take the Phalarope to the south’rd, sir.”

“No!” The admiral’s voice was like a whipcrack. “I will have no captain of mine taking what should be my responsibility!”

He gave a frosty smile. “Or was it your intention to force me into this decision?” He did not wait for a reply. “Very well, gentlemen. We will make sail and proceed south-east immediately.” He stared at each of them in turn. “But I want nothing foolhardy! If we sight the enemy we will retire and report our findings to Sir George Rodney.”

Bolitho masked his disappointment. He must be content. He had not even expected Sir Robert Napier to agree to leaving the present area, let alone to commit himself to what might well be a pointless and time-wasting venture.

As he turned to follow Fox the admiral added sharply. “And as to that other matter, Bolitho.” He rested his hand on the open envelope. “I will deal with that in my own way. I do not wish the reputation of my ships to be tarnished by mutiny. I intend that it should stay within the squadron.” He was looking impatient again. “As for Lieutenant Vibart, well, I suppose it cannot be helped now. A dead officer is no use to me, no matter how he died!”

Bolitho tried to think of a suitable reply. “He died bravely, sir.”

The admiral grunted. “So did the Christians in Rome! And damn little good it did anybody!”

Bolitho backed from the cabin and then hurried on deck to summon his boat. The sea was still speckled with small whitecaps, and the admiral’s flag was streaming bravely in the freshening breeze. It was good sailing weather, he thought. And that was too rare to waste at any time.

* * *

With the ponderous two-decker between them, the frigates spread their sails and hauled off on either beam. By nightfall the wind had fallen slightly, but was still sufficient to make the sails boom with unaccustomed vigour as the yards were braced round to keep all three ships on a slow starboard tack.

Before the night fell completely to hide one vessel from another there was a final unhappy incident. Bolitho had been striding up and down the weather side of the quarterdeck when he heard Okes snap, “Mr Maynard! Lively there! Train your glass on the flagship. She seems to be hoisting a signal.” Bolitho had crossed the deck to watch the midshipman fumbling with his long telescope. It was strange for the admiral to be sending signals in such poor visibility. A flare would have been more effective.