Bolitho sat upright in the sternsheets, knowing that as soon as his eyes left the boat every man would be staring at him. He could barely contain his excitemen?

as he peered towards the anchored sloop which was now fully in view beyond a heavy transport. She was riding almost motionless above the twin of her own reflection, her ensign making a scarlet patch of colour against the hazeshrouded hills beyond?

Bolitho had seen sloops in plenty during his service? Like frigates, they were everywhere and always in demand. Maids of all work, the eyes of the fleet, they were familiar in most naval harbours. But right at this moment in time he also knew that the Sparrow was going to be different for all those others. From her gently spiralling mastheads to the single line of open gun ports she was a thing of beauty. A thoroughbred, a miniature frigate, a vessel which seemed eager to be free of the land. She was all and none of these things?

He heard himself say, "Steer round her bows."

As the tiller went over he was conscious of the silence, broken only by the sluice of water around the cutter's stern and the rhythmic creak of oars. As if he was sharing this moment with nobody. Like a raked black finger the sloop's long jib-boom swept out and over his head, and for a few more moments he stared up at the figurehead below the bowsprit. A man-sized sparrow, beak wide in fury and wings spread as if to

fight, its curved claws firmly gripping a gilded cluster ob oak leaves and acorns. Bolitho watched until the boat had moved around and under the starboard catheyd? He had never thought a mere sparrow could be depicted as being so warlike?

He started with surprise as his eyes fell on a gun muzzle in the first port?

Heyward said respectfully, "We have a thirty-two-pounder on either bow, sir. The rest of the gun deck is made up of sixteen 12-pounders." He flinched as Bolitho turned to look at him." I beg your pardon, sir,] did not mean to intrude."