Bolitho smiled. 'Aye, sir. My father gave it to me after…' 'I know. Forget about your brother, Bolitho.' He touched the hilt again. 'Your family have brought too much honour for many generations to be brought down by one man.'

He thrust out his hand. 'Take care. I daresay there are quite a few tongues wagging about your visit here today.'

Bolitho followed the servant into the corridor, his mind moving restlessly from one aspect of his visit to another. Madras, another continent, and that sounded like a mere beginning to whatever it was he was supposed to do.

Every mile sailed would have its separate challenge. He smiled quietly. And reward. He paused in the doorway and. stared at the bustling people and carriages. Open sea instead of noise and dirt. A ship, a living, vital being instead of dull, pretentious buildings.

A hand touched his arm, and he turned to see a young man in a shabby blue coat studying him anxiously.

'What is it?'

The man said quickly, 'I'm Chatterton, Captain. I was once second lieutenant in the Warrior, seventy-four.' He hesitated; watching Bolitho's grave face. 'I heard you were commissioning, sir, I was wondering…'

'I'm sorry, Mr. Chatterton. I have a full wardroom.'

'Yes, sir, I had guessed as much.' He swallowed. 'I could sign as master's mate perhaps?'

Bolitho shook his head. 'It is only seamen I lack, I'm afraid.'

He saw the disappointment clouding the man's face. The old Warrior had been in the thick of it. She was rarely absent from any battle, and men had spoken her name with pride. Now her second lieutenant was waiting like a beggar.

He said quietly, 'If I can help.' He thrust his hand into his pocket. 'Tide you over awhile.'

'Thank you, no, sir.' He forced a grin. 'Not yet anyway.' He pulled up his coat collar. As he walked away he called, 'Good luck, Captain!'

Bolitho watched him until he was out of sight. It might have been Herrick, he thought. Any of us.