And it would all probably come to nothing. Such things had happened often enough on this commission. Preparation, and then some last-minute hitch.

Bolitho imagined it was going to be an almost impossible thing to find and take the other ship. Equally, he knew he would feel cheated if it was all called off.

He returned to the wardroom to discover that most of the officers had turned into their bunks after such a day of wind and bustle.

The surgeon and Captain D'Esterre sat beneath a solitary lantern playing cards, and alone by the streaming stern windows, staring at the vibrating tiller-head, was Lieutenant Quinn.

In the glow of the swaying lantern he looked younger than ever, if that were possible.

Bolitho sat beside him and shook his head as the boy, Logan, appeared with an earthenware wine jug.

'Are you feeling all right, James?'

Quinn looked at him, startled. 'Yes, thank you, sir.'

Bolitho smiled. 'Richard. Dick, if you like.' He watched the other's despair. 'This is not the midshipman's berth, you know.'

Quinn darted a quick glance at the card players, the mounting pile of coins beside the marine's scarlet sleeve, the dwindling one opposite him.

Then he said quietly, 'You've done this sort of thing before, sir – I mean, Dick.'

Bolitho nodded. 'A few times.'

He did not want to break Quinn's trust now that he had begun.

'I – I thought it would be in the ship when it happened.' Quinn gestured helplessly around the wardroom and the cabin flat beyond. 'You know, all your friends near you, with you. I think I could do that. Put up with the first time. The fighting.'

Bolitho said, 'I know. The ship is home. It can help.'

Quinn clasped his hands and said, 'My family are in the leather trade in the City of London. My father did not wish me to enter the Navy.' His chin lifted very slightly. 'But I was determined. I'd often seen a man-o'-war working down river to the sea. I knew what I wanted.'