Sayer turned and smiled sadly. “You have cause to hate the word mutiny. I am glad you discovered what you did. But higher authority than ours will decide what to do next, have no doubt.” He sipped at his goblet. “Bligh, you say?” He shook his head. “Must be a determined man to survive such a journey.”

Bolitho felt himself relax in the chair. Ever since he had spoken with the Dutch governor he had held the story of the mutiny on his mind. Now, under Sayer’s influence, he could face it in its proper proportion. He had reacted like most captains, seeing himself in the same predicament. Without knowing the ship, the men or the exact circumstances it was like baying at the moon for more light.

He watched Sayer with sudden compassion. Tired out with this unenviable appointment, broken by some past fever, he was nevertheless the senior officer. Just as Bolitho had been the only representative of the world’s greatest navy as he had covered many hundreds of miles in search of pirates and the local rulers who gave them encouragement. Perhaps one day he might fly a broad pendant of his own, but he doubted if he would carry Sayer’s selfassurance to go with it.

The commodore said, “I shall see the governor without delay. I suggest you return to your ship and take on water and whatever stores you need.” He studied him calmly. “I am afraid I’ll be sending you to sea very quickly. I would have done so anyway. Your news hastens the event.” As Bolitho rose he added, “If you need extra hands I daresay it can be arranged. After two years of Botany Bay it is hard to discover where a transported convict leaves off and an honest man begins!” He winked. “I’ll speak with the receiving officer ashore.”

At the entry port Sayer stood with Bolitho looking across at Tempest. In the bright glare her rigging and shrouds shone like black glass.

“Fine ship.” He sounded wistful.

Bolitho said, “I imagine you will soon return to England, sir.”