Who would be next?

He confronted it, as a senior officer might examine a subordinate's chances. His record was good. He had taken part in every action at Algiers and before. Captain Bolitho had already recommended him for a command of his own, had put it in writing to the Flag Officer here in Plymouth before they had sailed. Suppose there was nothing? He might remain first lieutenant for yet another commission, until he was passed over altogether.

He dismissed it angrily. He had a ship, and a fine one, more than many could claim.

He walked to the entry port and touched his hat as the officer of the guard clambered aboard.

The visitor glanced around the upper deck and said, "Heard all about it, your part at Algiers! Lord Exmouth was full of praise in the GazetteV He handed Galbraith a thick, sealed envelope. "For the captain." He inclined his head toward the shore. "From the admiral." He looked over at some of the bustling seamen, disappointed perhaps that there were no wounded on view, no shot holes in the freshly painted black and white hull. "Another boat is coming out to collect the despatches, and any mail you have to go."

He reached for the guard ropes and added with a grin, "Welcome home, by the way! "

Galbraith saw him over the side, and the oars were thrashing at the water almost before he had taken his seat.

Galbraith made his way aft, ducking without thought beneath the overhanging poop.

Past the wardroom, empty but for a mess man every one else would be on deck, sharing it.

The marine at the cabin door stamped his foot and bawled, "First lieutenant, sirV

It was something you never got used to, he thought. Every Royal Marine seemed to act as if he were on a parade ground, and not within the close confines of a ship.