braces and halliards from the deck. As the calls shrilled, and the men poured up on deck through every hatch and companion, it seemed incredible that Trojan's hull, which from figurehead to taffrail measured two hundred and, fifteen feet, could contain so many. Yet within seconds the dashing figures of men and boys, marines and landmen were formed into compact groups, each being checked by leather-lunged petty officers against their various lists and watch-bills.

The great capstan was already turning, as was its twin on the deck below, and under his shoes Bolitho could almost sense the ship stirring, waiting to head towards the open sea.

Like the mass of seamen and marines, the officers too were at their stations. Probyn with Dalyell to assist him on the forecastle, the foremast their responsibility. Sparke commanded the upper gundeck and the ship's mainmast, which was her real strength, with all the spars, cordage, canvas and miles of rigging which gave life to the hull beneath. Lastly, the mizzen mast, handled mostly by the afterguard, where young Quinn waited with the marine lieutenant and his men to obey Cairns ' first requirements.

Bolitho looked across at Sparke. Not an easy man to know, but a pleasure to watch at work. He controlled his seamen and every halliard and brace with the practised ease of a dedicated concert conductor.

A hush seemed to fall over the ship, and Bolitho looked aft to see the captain walking to the quarterdeck rail, nodding to old Bunce, the Sage, then speaking quietly with his first lieutenant.

Far above the deck from the mainmast truck the long, scarlet pendant licked and hardened to the wind like bending metal. A good sailing wind, but Bolitho was thankful it was the captain and old Bunce who were taking her through the anchored shipping and not himself.

He glanced over the side and wondered who was watching. Friends, or spies who might already be passing news to Washington 's agents. Another man-of-war weighing. Where bound? For what purpose?