Bolitho told him about the cook, and the captain's expected return, then instructed him to arrange for piping the relief for the first dog-watch. He passed his instructions without conscious thought, but watched Couzens instead, seeing not him but himself at that tender age. He had been in a ship of the line, too. Chased, harried, bullied by everyone, or so it had seemed. But he had had one hero, a lieutenant who had probably never even noticed him as a human being. And Bolitho had always remembered him. He had never lost his temper without cause. Never found escape in humiliating others when he had received a

telling-off from his captain. Bolitho had hoped he would be like that lieutenant one day. He still hoped.

Couzens nodded firmly. 'Aye, aye, sir.'

Trojan carried nine midshipmen, and Bolitho sometimes wondered how their lives would take shape. Some would rise to flag rank, others drop by the wayside. There would be the usual sprinkling of tyrants and of leaders, of heroes and cowards.

Later, as the new watch was being mustered below the quarterdeck, one of the look-outs called, 'Boat approaching, sir!' The merest pause. "Tis the captain!'

Bolitho darted a quick glance at the milling confusion below the quarterdeck, The captain could not have chosen a better time to catch them all out.

He yelled, 'Pass the word for the first lieutenant! Man the side, and call the boatswain directly!'

Men dashed hither and thither through the gloom, and while the marines tramped stolidly to the entry port, their cross,belts very white in the poor light, the petty officers tried to muster the relieving watchkeepers into some semblance of order.

A boat appeared, pulling strongly towards the main chains, the bowman already standing erect with his hook at the ready.

'Boat ahoy?'

The coxswain's cry came back instantly. 'Trojan!'