Most of the new men had been sorted into their most suitable stations, and the sail drill had advanced beyond even his expectations. At the first suitable moment he intended to exercise the guns’ crews, but up to this time he had been prevented from much more than allocations of hands to the various divisions by the unceasing wind.

Now this, he fumed inwardly. No wonder the admiral had asked him to watch young Farquhar’s behaviour.

There was a tap at the door and Evans stepped gingerly into the cabin, his eyes flickering like beads in the lamplight.

Bolitho gestured impatiently. “Now then, Mr Evans. Let me have the full story.”

He turned to stare at the water again as Evans launched into his account. To start with he seemed nervous, even frightened, but when Bolitho allowed him to continue without interruption or comment his voice grew sharper and more outraged.

Bolitho said at length, “The meat that Betts threw at you. What cask did it come from?”

Evans was caught off guard. “Number twelve, sir. I saw it stowed myself.” He added in a wheedling tone. “I do my best, sir. They are ungrateful dogs for the most part!”

Bolitho turned and tapped the papers on his table. “I checked the stowage myself, too, Mr Evans. Two days ago when the hands were at drill!” He saw a flicker of alarm show itself on Evans’s dark face and knew that his lie had gone home. A feeling of sudden anger swept through him like fire. All the things he had told his officers had been for nothing. Even the near-mutiny seemed to have made no impression on the minds of men like Evans and Farquhar.

He snapped, “That cask was in the low stowage, was it not? And how many others were down there, do you think?”

Evans peered nervously around the cabin. “Five or six, sir. They were some of the original stores which I . . .”

Bolitho slammed his fist on the table. “You make me sick, Evans! That cask and those others you have suddenly remembered were probably stowed two years ago before you began the Brest blockade! They most likely leak, and in any case are quite rotten!”

Evans looked at his feet. “I—I did not know, sir.”

Bolitho said harshly, “If I could prove otherwise, Mr Evans, I would have you stripped of your rank and flogged!”

Vibart stirred into life. “I must protest, sir! Mr Evans was acting as he thought fit! Betts struck him. There is no way of avoiding that fact.”

“So it appears, Mr Vibart.” Bolitho stared at him coldly until the other man looked away. “I will certainly back my officers in their efforts to carry out my orders. But senseless punishment at this time will do more harm than good.” He felt suddenly too tired to think clearly, but Vibart’s anger seemed to drive him on. “In another two weeks or so we will join the fleet under Sir Samuel Hood, and then there will be more than enough to keep us all occupied.”