Probyn said in a loud whisper, Mr Bolitho doesn't seem to be here yet?'

Pears frowned, despising Probyn's hypocrisy. He was about as subtle as a hammer.

Cairns suggested, 'I'll send someone, sir.'

The door opened and closed swiftly and Pears saw Bolitho

sliding into an empty chair beside the two marines.

'Stand up, that officer.' Pears' harsh voice was almost caress

ing. 'Ah, it is you, sir, at last.'

Bolitho stood quite still, only his shoulders swaying slightly to the ship's slow roll.

'I – I am sorry, sir.' Bolitho saw the grin on Dalyell's face as drops of water trickled from under his coat and on to the black and white checkered canvas which covered the deck.

Pears said mildly, 'Your shirt seems to be rather wet, sir.' He turned slightly. 'Foley, some canvas for that chair. It is hard to replace such things out here.'

Bolitho sat down with a thump, not knowing whether to be angry or humiliated.

He forgot Pears' abrasive tone, and the shirt which he had snatched off the wardroom line still wringing wet, as Pears said more evenly, 'We will sail at first light, gentlemen. The Governor of New York has received information that the expected convoy from Halifax is likely to be attacked. It is a large assembly of vessels with an escort of two frigates and a sloopof-war. But in this weather the ships could become scattered, some might endeavour to close with the land to ascertain their bearings.' His fingers changed to a fist. 'That is when our enemy will strike.'

Bolitho leaned forward, ignoring the sodden discomfort around his waist.

Pears continued, 'I was saying as much to Mr Cairns. You cannot win a defensive war. We have the ships, but the enemy