The frigate Harvester, nine days outward bound from Spithead, turned easily into the gentle offshore breeze and dropped anchor, the echoes of her gun salute still reverberating and grumbling around the towering wall of Gibraltar 's unchanging Rock. Her young captain let his eye rest a moment longer on the busy activity below the quarterdeck as his men threw themselves into the work of swaying out boats, urged on by sharp commands and more than one cuff from an impatient petty officer. Entering harbour was always a tense moment, and the captain knew that he was not the only one aboard who was aware of the big ships of the line anchored nearby, the largest of which wore a vice-admiral's flag at the fore, and no doubt there were several telescopes already trained on his small command' ready to reprimand or criticise.

With a final glance he strode aft and crossed to the starboard side where a tall, solitary figure leaned against the hammock nettings.

`Shall I signal for a boat, sir? Or would one of mine be sufficient?'

Captain Richard Bolitho pulled himself from his thoughts and turned to face the other man.

'Thank you, Captain Leach, I will take yours. It will save time.' He imagined he saw a touch of relief in the man's eyes, and realised that it could not have been easy for so young and junior a captain, who had not yet attained the coveted post rank, to carry him from England as a passenger.

He relaxed slightly and added, 'You have a fine ship. We made a quick passage.' He shivered in spite of the earlymorning sunlight and saw Leach watching him with new interest.