Herrick persisted, "Because of it, your nephew crossed swords with another lieutenant." He added stubbornly, "A matter of honour they call it."

Bolitho looked away. And he had been imagining it was use of Pascoe's background, his dead father. Traitor and bade.

He said, "Thank you for telling me."

Somebody had to, sir." The blue eyes were pleading. You’ve done so much, for all of us, I’d not wish to see it thrown away because of a-"

"I thanked you for telling me, Thomas. Not for your opinion of the lady."

Herrick opened the door. "I will call him in, sir." He did not Look back.

Bolitho sat down on the bench seat below the stem widows and watched a fishing boat sculling below the two-decker's counter. The fisherman glanced up at him without expression. Probably in the pay of the. Spanish comandant across the water in Algeciras, he thought. Taking names of the ships. Tid-bits of information which might convey something in return for a few coins.

The door opened and Adam Pascoe stood inside the cabin, his hat tucked under his arm.

Bolitho stood up and walked towards him, feeling something like pain as he saw the way the youth was holding his arm away from his ribs. Even in his lieutenant" s, uniform he looked the same lean boy who had first been sent to him as a midshipman.

He said, "Welcome aboard, sir."

Bolitho forgot the weight of his new responsibility, his unwanted clash with Herrick, everything but the youth who had come to mean so much.

He embraced him and said, "You’ve been in trouble, Adam. I am sorry it was of my doing."

Pascoe watched him gravely. "I would not have killed him, Uncle."

Bolitho stood back from him and smiled sadly. "No, Adam, but he might have finished you. Eighteen years is a beginning, not an end."

Pascoe pushed the black hair from his forehead and shrugged. "The captain has given me enough extra duties for my pains" He looked at Bolitho's shoulder. "How is the wound, Uncle?"