"Forgotten." He led him to a chair. "Like your own, eh?" They smiled like conspirators as Bolitho poured two glasses of claret. He noticed that Pascoe's hair was cut in the new style, without any queue at the nape of his neck like most sea officers. He wondered what sort of a navy it would be when his nephew's broad pendant flew one day.

Pascoe sipped the wine. "They are saying in the squadron that this command would have been Nelson's had he not lost his arm." He watched him questioningly.

Bolitho smiled. There were few secrets in the fleet. "Perhaps. "

Pascoe nodded, his eyes distant. "A great honour, Uncle, but-"

"But what?"

"A great responsibility also."

Herrick reappeared at the door. "May I ask what time you would wish the other captains to return aboard, sir?"

He looked from one to the other and felt strangely moved. About twenty years between them, yet they looked like brothers.

Bolitho replied, "I will leave it to you."

When Herrick had gone Pascoe asked simply, "Is anything between you and Captain Herrick, Uncle?"

Bolitho touched his arm. "Nothing that can harm our friendship, Adam."

Pascoe appeared satisfied. "I’m glad."

Bolitho reached for the decanter. "Now, tell me what you have been doing since I last saw you."

2. Small Beginning

BOLITHO moved restlessly around his day cabin, one hand reaching out to touch objects not yet familiar. Around and above him the Lysander's seventeen hundred tons of timbers and spars, artillery and men creaked and groaned to the pressure of a rising north-westerly wind.

He had to forcibly restrain himself from peering from one or other of the quarter windows to see how the rest of his squadron were getting on with preparations for weighing. He heard occasional shouts and the thump of bare feet as seamen raced in all directions to complete last minute tasks, and he could picture Herrick as he, too, fretted over each delay. It was all Bolitho could do to leave Herrick alone on the quarterdeck.