He looked little changed, Bolitho thought, in his blue jacket with the special gilt buttons, and his nankeen trousers to mark him out as the admiral's coxswain.

"All done, Allday?" Perhaps he would shake him out of his gloom.

Allday stared around the cabin and then back to Bolitho and the new chair.

"Fact is, sir." He fidgeted with his coat. "I had a bit o' news."

Bolitho sat down. "Well, what is it, man?"

"I've got a son, sir."

Bolitho exclaimed, "You what?"

Allday grinned sheepishly. "Somebody wrote a letter, sir. Ferguson read it to me, me not bein' able-"

Bolitho nodded. Ferguson, his steward in Falmouth, could always keep a secret. He and Allday were as thick as thieves.

Allday continued, "There was a girl I used to know. On the farm, it was. Pretty little thing, smart as paint. Seems she died, just a few weeks back." He looked at Bolitho with sudden desperation. "Well, I mean, sir, I couldn't just do nothin', could I?"

Bolitho sat back in the chair and watched the emotions hurrying across Allday's homely face.

"Are you certain about this?"

"Aye, sir. I-I'd like you to speak with him, if it's not too much to ask?"

Feet moved overhead and somewhere a boatswain's call trilled to summon more hands to hoist some stores inboard. In the cabin it seemed apart, remote from that other shipboard life.

"You brought him aboard then?"

"He volunteered, sir. He's worn the King's coat afore." There was pride in his voice now. "I just need-" He broke off and looked at his shoes. "I shouldn't have asked-"

Bolitho walked over to him and touched his arm. "Bring him aft when you're ready. Blast your eyes man, you have the right to ask what you will!"

They stared at each other, then Allday said simply, "I'll do that, sir."

The door opened and Keen looked in at them. He said, "I thought you should know, Sir Richard, Firefly has just weighed and is setting her tops'ls."