He glanced around the great cabin. Contre-Amiral Jobert must have sat here often enough in those other days. Must have cocked his head when he heard the lookouts cry out that they had sighted Achates.

The other door opened and Yovell entered with the usual pack of letters under one arm.

"Good day, Mr Yovell."

"Good morning, Sir Richard."

They smiled at one another like conspirators. For if Bolitho had gained a title, Yovell's status had been raised from mere clerk to secretary. With his sloping, fat shoulders and small gold-rimmed spectacles he looked like a prosperous merchant.

Yovell had found a new clerk to assist him, a fresh-faced youth named John Pinkney, whose family had lived in Falmouth for many generations. Ozzard too had gained an assistant; his name was Twigg, but Bolitho had only seen him once when he had called at the house in Falmouth.

He found he was on his feet and was pacing the cabin as if he was trapped.

There was so much he had wanted to say to Belinda. There had been a strangeness between them since their visit to London. She loved him, but because of the difficult time she had had during Elizabeth's birth there had been a barrier. A coolness. He could not be certain ifHe looked up, angry without knowing why, as the sentry tapped his musket on the deck and called, "Admiral's cox'n, sir!"

That marine would soon get to know that Allday came and went as he pleased.

Allday came in and stood in the middle of the carpet, his head just beneath the skylight.