He swung round and stared with astonishment as the barker turned on the fighter. The latter was standing as before, as if he had never moved, let alone been knocked down.

The barker picked up a length of chain and screamed, “This is for yer bloody stupidity!” The chain slashed across the man’s naked back. “This is for losin’ my money!” Crack.

Little glanced at Bolitho uneasily. “’Ere, sir, I’ll give the bugger ’is money, I’ll not see that poor devil beaten like a cur!”

Bolitho swallowed hard. The big fighter could have killed his tormentor with one blow. Perhaps he had been on the way down for so long he no longer felt pain or anything else.

But it was more than enough for Bolitho. His bad beginning aboard Destiny, his failure to find the required volunteers were all he could take. This degrading sight tipped the balance completely.

“You there! Belay that!” Bolitho strode forward, watched with both awe and amusement by his men. “Put down that chain at once!”

The barker quailed and then quickly regained his earlier confidence. He had nothing to fear from a young lieutenant. Especially in a district where he was often paid for his services.

“I’ve me rights!”

Little snarled, “Let me ’andle the bugger, sir! I’ll give ’im bloody rights!”

It was all getting out of hand. Some villagers had appeared, too, and Bolitho had a mental picture of his men having a pitched battle with half the countryside before they could get to the launch.

He turned his back on the defiant barker and faced up to the fighter. Near to he was even bigger, but in spite of his size and strength Bolitho saw only his eyes, each of which was partly hidden by lids battered shapeless over the years.

“You know who I am?”

The man nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on Bolitho’s mouth as if he was reading every word.

Gently Bolitho asked, “Will you volunteer for the King’s service? Join the frigate Destiny at Plymouth,” he hesitated, seeing the painful understanding in the man’s eyes, “with me?”