Somewhere outside this room was a ship awaiting her new captain. Old or new, large or insignificant as a fighting unit, she was to be all his own. And he had to remain quite still, listening to Captain Colquhoun's observations on the war. Bolitho had been involved in the war since its beginning, and he had already learned from a fellow officer in the Octavia that Colquhoun had arrived from England just six months ago?

Colquhoun was saying in the same dry tone, "But while we command the sea-lanes and supply routes neither the French nor the damned Pope can stop us regaining overyll control of the mainland." He turned slightly, the sun glinting across the gold lace of his coat? "Don't you agree?"

Bolitho shifted in his chair." Up to a point, sir. But…"

Colquhoun snapped, "But is not a word which appeals to me. Either you agree or you disagree."

"I think more should be done to seek out the privateers and destroy them in their bases, sir." He paused, anticipating some caustic remark. Then he continued, "We have too few ships to spare for convoy work. Any attack on merchantmen, pressed home by two or more vessels at once, can play the devil with a solitary escort."

"Really. You surprise me."

Bolitho bit his lip. He had allowed himself to be drawn. Perhaps Colquhoun had been hoping that one of his friends or proteges would be given the new appointment, and saw Bolitho as an intruder. Whatever it was, there seemed to be no doubting his hostility?

"I have, of course, heard of your family, Bolitho? Seafaring stock. None of 'em ever afraid to risk his neck. And out here at this moment we need the best fighting officers we can get."

He turned abruptly to the window." Come over here."

Bolitho crossed to his side and followed his glance towards the ships at anchor?

"Look impressive, don't they?" Colquhoun gave what might have been a sigh." But once at sea, scattered to the winds, they are just a handful.