Herrick craned over the dripping nettings to watch the cutter hooking on to the chains. God, their oarsmanship was bad. Bolitho would expect far better, and before too long.

He snapped, 'Easy, Mr. Triphook. But I was merely reminding you. I recall we had a purser in my last ship. A man called Evans. He lined his pockets at the people's expense. Gave them foul food when they had much to trouble them in other directions.'

Triphook watched him doubtfully. 'What happened?'

'Captain Bolitho made him pay for fresh meat from his own purse. Cask for cask with each that was rotten.' He grinned. 'So be warned, my friend!'

'He'll have no cause to fault me, Mr. Herrick.' He walked away, his voice lacking conviction as he added, 'You can be certain of that.'

Lieutenant Soames came aft, touching his hat and scowling at the deck as he reported, 'Five hands, sir. I've been on the road all day, I'm fair hoarse from calling the tune of those handbills.'

Herrick nodded. He could sympathise. He had done it often enough himself. Five hands. They still needed thirty. Even then it would not allow for death and injury to be expected on any long voyage.

Soames asked thickly, 'Any more news?'

'None. Just that we are to sail for Madras. But I think it will be soon now.'

Soames said, 'Good riddance to the land, I say. Streets full of drunken men, prime hands we could well do with.' He hesitated. 'With your permission I might take a boat away tonight and catch a few as they reel from their damn ale houses, eh?'

They turned as a shriek of laughter echoed up from the gun deck, and a woman, her breasts bare to the rain, ran from beneath the larboard gangway. She was pursued by two seamen, both obviously the worse for drink, who left little to the imagination as to their intentions.

Herrick barked, 'Tell that slut to get below! Or I'll have her thrown over the side!' He saw the astonished midshipman watching the spectacle with wide-eyed wonder and added harshly, 'Mr. Penn! Jump to it, I say!'