More like a companion or a bodyguard, with the bearing of a soldier or a marine. Jago had seen him in Athena's cabin, pouring wine or something with more bite to it, holding the glass or goblet to study it beforehand. No fuss, not like some. And when the guns had belched fire from Athena's ports and reeled inboard in recoil, he had seen the other Tolan, crouching but unafraid in the fury of battle.

A good man to have beside you, but one you would never know.

Tolan was glancing around the room now, and, Jago guessed, missing nothing.

"I have told the kitchen to prepare a meal for you. A drink would not come amiss, I imagine, after all that bustle."

If he was disturbed or irritated by the long journey from Portsmouth, the storing and checking of Bethune's personal gear at every stop along that endless road, he gave no sign of it. He probably knew Bethune better than any one.

Jago shrugged.

"No telling how long the Cap'n will be with their lordships."

He looked at the portrait on the wall. T can't fathom what there is to yarn about. It's over. We done what we was ordered.

That's it!"

"Not so simple this time, I think."

"Cap'n Bolitho had his last ship taken from him. Paid off.

Now AthenaЦ God, she's only a few years old!"

Tolan watched him. "Launched in 1803,1 was told. Sounds old enough to me."

Jago exclaimed, "Good Kentish oak, too! "and broke off as if he had just heard the remark. "Not for a real ship. Hell's teeth, Our Nel's Victory was forty years old when she stood in the line at Trafalgar! They don't know what they're about, their bloody lordships!"

Tolan seemed to be considering something.

"You care about your captain, don't you? Something deeper than duty, loyalty. You're not a man who's easily taken in. I like that. "He smiled with sudden warmth, like offering a handshake, Jago thought afterwards. Dropping his guard, something rare with him.