A boatswain’s mate called, “Stand by!”

Again the pipes shrilled their salute and the sweating guard slapped their muskets to the present.

Herrick touched his hat and watched Bolitho’s face as he climbed up through the port. His features were calm and empty of expression, but his eyes as he glanced briefly along the main deck were cold and bleak, like the North Atlantic.

Vibart said stiffly, “Water lighters making for us, sir.”

“So I see.” Bolitho did not look round, but stared instead at the newly scrubbed decks, the quiet atmosphere of order and readiness. He added after a moment, “Carry on with immediate loading, and tell the cooper to prepare extra casks.”

Herrick asked cautiously, “Are we to sea again, sir?”

The grey eyes fixed him with a flat stare. “It would appear so!”

Vibart stepped forward, his eyes hidden in shadow. “It’s damned unfair, sir!”

Bolitho did not answer, but seemed entirely preoccupied in his thoughts. Then he said sharply, “We will be making sail within two hours, Mr Vibart. The wind seems light, but good enough for my purpose.” He looked round as Stockdale padded on to the quarterdeck. “Oh, tell my servant I will require some food as soon as possible. Anything will do.”

Herrick stared at him. Bolitho had been away for the best part of two hours, yet the admiral had not even bothered to entertain him or offer him lunch. What the hell could he be thinking of? A young, courageous captain, fresh from England with news, as well as a fine addition to the fleet, should have been welcomed like a brother!

He thought of his own feelings while he had eaten his meagre meal in the wardroom. Each mouthful had nearly choked him as he had imagined Bolitho dining with the admiral and enjoying the full fare which a flagship could provide in harbour. Poultry, fresh lean pork, even roast potatoes perhaps! The climate was unimportant to Herrick where good, familiar food was concerned.

Now he realised that Bolitho had received nothing. The same feeling of shame and pity moved through him that he had earlier felt for Okes. A slur on Bolitho was an insult to every man aboard, yet the captain carried the full brunt of it. It was so unfair, so calculated in its cruelty that Herrick could not contain himself.

“But, sir! Did the admiral not congratulate you?” He fumbled for words as Bolitho shifted to watch him. “After all you have done for this ship?”

“Thank you for your concern, Herrick.” For a brief moment Bolitho’s expression, softened. “Things are not always what they first appear. We must be patient.” There was not a trace of bitterness in his answer, nor was there any warmth either. “But in war there is little time for personal understanding.” He turned on his heel adding. “We will have gun drill as soon as we get under way.” He disappeared down the cabin hatch and Herrick looked round in dull amazement.