A young woman with a child on her hip, her husband's midday meal carried in a red handkerchief, stared at the carriage as it moved past. She bobbed her head to Bolitho and flashed him a white smile.

Bolitho thought of Belinda, how she would manage when their child was born. A son to follow the tradition, to walk the deck of a new generation of King's ships. A daughter perhaps, to grow up and win the heart of a young man in a world he might never know.

Bolitho had confided little of his mission to Belinda. He wanted to keep her free of worry. Also she might resent the reason for his leaving her when she had time to think about it.

He tried to think about San Felipe's governor, the man who would have to hand over his tiny kingdom to their old foe.

He glanced at Allday, now rolling gently to the carriage's motion and fast asleep. He had known all about Sir Humphrey Rivers, Knight of the Bath.

Bolitho smiled. Allday gathered information about the comings and goings in the fleet and hoarded it as a magpie guards its treasure trove of coloured glass and beads.

Rivers had captained a frigate named Crusader during the American Revolution at about the same time when Bolitho had been given his first command, the little sloop-of-war Sparrow.

He had made quite a name for himself hunting French privateers and taking prizes of every shape and size. One day near the Chesapeake he had misjudged the danger in his eagerness to run down an American brig. His Crusader had ploughed into some shallows and had become a total wreck. Rivers had been taken prisoner but had been returned to Britain after the war.

He was said to have made influential friends during his captivity, and afterwards when he had been promoted to command a squadron in the West Indies. He had money in the City of London, property too in Jamaica. He did not sound like the kind of man who would fit easily into the plans of the government in Whitehall.