The newcomer added, 'Martyn Dancer. I'm joining the Gorgon. The landlord pointed you out to me.' Bolitho introduced himself and moved along the bench. 'Not your first ship.' Dancer smiled sadly. 'Almost. I was in the flagship until she went into dock. Aly experience amounts to three months and two days.' He saw Bolitho's expression. T started late. My father was unwilling to let me go to sea.' He shrugged. 'But I had my way in the end.' Bolitho liked what he saw. Dancer had certainly begun his sea career late. He was about his own age, and had the quiet, cultured voice of a good family. A town family, he decided. Dancer w_as saying, 'I have heard that we are sailing for West Africa. But then…' Bolitho grinned. 'It is as good a rumour as any. I heard it too. It will be better than beating back over for nine years. I'd have thought the French would be at us again by now, if only to get their Canadian possessions back.' Bolitho turned as two crippled seamen approached the landlord who was watching one of his girls ladling stew into pewter pots. No real war for nine years. It was true enough. And yet there were still other conflicts around the world which never stopped. Uprisings and piracy, colonies fighting their new masters, they had claimed as many victims as any line of battle. The landlord said harshly, 'Be off with you! I want no beggars here! " One of the sailors, his right arm amputated almost to the shoulder, retorted angrily, 'I'm no bloody beggar! I was in the old Marlborough, seventyfour, with Rear-Admiral Rodney! ' There was complete silence in the long room, and Bolitho saw that several of the younger midshipmen were staring at the two cripples with something like horror. The second man exclaimed anxiously, 'Leave it be, Ted! The devil will give us nothin'! ' Dancer said, 'Give them all they need.' He dropped his eyes, confused and angry. 'I will pay.' Bolitho looked at him, sharing his concern. His shame. 'That was well said, Martyn.' He touched his sleeve impetuously.