A slim midshipman leapt from the boat and removed his hat with a flourish. About eighteen, he was a pleasant looking youth, and as tanned as a native?

"I'm Heyward, sir." He shifted under Bolitho's impassive gaze." I-I've been sent to collect you, sir."

Bolitho nodded." Thank you, Mr. Heyward. You can tell me about the ship as we go."

He waited for the midshipman and Stockdale to follow his sea-chest and bags into the boat and then stepped after them?

"Shove off forrard! Out oars!" Heyward seemed very conscious of Bolitho's nearness." Give way all!"

Like pale bones the oars rose and fell in regular precision. Bolitho glanced swiftly at the two lines ob oarsmen. Neatly dressed in check shirts and white trousers, they looked fit and healthy enough. A ship could always be judged by her boats, some people contended. Bolitho knew otherwise. Some captains kept their boats as outward showpieces, while within their own ships the people lived little better tha[

animals. Their expressions gave nothing away. The usual, homely faces of British sailors, set in careful masks to avoid his scrutiny. Each man was probabla wondering about the new captain. To any seaman his captain was not much junior to God. He could leads and use his skills on their behalf in battle. He might just as easily turn their lives into a daily hell with no one to whom they could protest or plead their cause?

The midshipman said haltingly, "We have been at anchor for three days, sir."

"Before that?"

"Patrol duty off Guadeloupe. We did sight a French brig but lost her, sir."

"How long have you been in Sparrow?"

"Two years, sir. Since she commissioned on the Thames at Greenwich."

Stockdale craned round." There she is, sir. Fine on the larboard bow."