tween poop and forecastle, as he knew from hard experience.

He seated himself at the head of the long table and placed his hat beside a rolled chart. `Seat yourselves, gentlemen, or stand if you desire. I would not wish you to change your habits for my temporary convenience.' There was some polite laughter. The captain was, after all, merely, a guest in a wardroom, although Bolitho had often wondered what might happen if such a privilege be denied. He opened the chart slowly, knowing that their eyes were still on him rather than it.

'As you are now aware, we sail to join Lord Hood. It is understood that in Toulon there are certain forces who, although French, are firmly against the present Revolutionary Government, and with help may well be the tools to overthrow it. By showing our strength and using every opportunity to harass the enemy's shipping we may have the chance to aid that state of affairs.' He looked up and caught sight of young Seton's face framed between the shoulders of the two marines.

He continued evenly, 'By the middle of July, Lord Hood will have such a force available as to make all this possible. Every ship will be needed. It is therefore essential that each officr does his utmost to ensure there is no wastage in effort or training.' He looked around their intent faces. 'We may not be free to return here or to any other supply base for some time to come, is that understood?'

Quarme said quietly, 'I think the second lieutenant has a question, sir.'

Bolitho glanced across to where a languid, bored-looking young offcer was sitting on one of the chests. He said, 'I forget your name for the moment.'

The lieutenant eyed him coolly. 'Sir Philip Rooke, sir.'

There was nothing insolent in his tone but Bolitho could see it in the man's pale eyes like a challenge.