Soames showed a rare grin. 'Offend your feelings, Mr. Herrick?'

Herrick shrugged. 'I know it is supposed to be the proper thing to allow our people women and drink in harbour.' He thought of his sister. Anchored in that damned chair. What he would give to see her running free like that Portsmouth trollop. 'But it never fails to sicken me.'

Soames sighed. 'Half the bastards would desert otherwise, signed on or not. The romance of Madras soon wears off when the rum goes short.'

Herrick said, 'What you asked earlier. I cannot agree. It would be a bad beginning. Men taken in such a way would harbour plenty of grievances. One rotten apple can sour a full barrel.'

Soames eyes him calmly. 'It seems to me that this ship is almost full of bad apples. The volunteers are probably on the run from debt, or the hangman himself. Some are aboard just to see what they can lay their fingers on when we are many miles from proper authority.'

Herrick replied, 'Captain Bolitho will have sufficient authority, Mr. Soames.'

'I forgot. You were in the same ship. There was a mutiny.' It sounded like an accusation.

'Not of his making.' He turned on him angrily. 'Be so good as to have the new men fed and issued with slop clothing.'

He waited, watching the resentment in the big man's eyes.

He added, 'Another of our captain's requirements. I suggest you acquaint yourself with his demands. Life will be easier for you.'

Soames strode away and Herrick relaxed. He must not let him get into his skin so easily. But any criticism, or even hint of it, always affected him. To Herrick, Bolitho represented all the things he would like to be. The fact he also knew some of his secret faults as well made him doubly sure of his loyalty. He shook his head. It was stronger even than that.

He peered over the nettings towards the shore, seeing the walls of the harbour battery glinting like lead in the rain.