He thought of the parting he had just witnessed. What a fine pair they made. The lovely lady with the long chestnut hair and the youthful vice-admiral whose hair was as jet-black as the day Allday had joined his ship as a pressed hand.

From the opposite seat Bolitho saw Allday's head loll into a doze and felt the strength of the man, was grateful for his presence here.

Allday had thickened out and looked as if nothing could ever break him. The oak. He smiled to himself in spite of his sense of loss at leaving Belinda when she most needed him.

He had known Allday like a raging lion on the reddened deck of one ship or another. And he had seen him in tears as he had carried Bolitho below when he had been badly wounded in battle. It was impossible to imagine any place without Allday.

Bolitho also thought about his new flagship for this special commission which would take him to America and the Caribbean.

There was comfort in knowing that her new captain was also a good friend. Valentine Keen, who had once been one of Bolitho's midshipmen, who had shared excitement and sorrow in very different circumstances. Achates' previous captain had died of a fever even as his ship had sailed home from Antigua to the yard where she had been built to undergo a much needed overhaul and refit.

It would be good to have Keen as his flag-captain, he thought. He watched Allday's head fall to his chest and remembered it had been he who had once saved Keen's life, had personally cut a jagged splinter from his groin because he had not trusted the ship's drunken surgeon.

Bolitho watched a group of farm workers by a field gate as they paused to drink rough cider from great earthenware jugs.

A few glanced at the carriage, one even raised his arm in salute. The word would soon be around Falmouth. A Bolitho was leaving again. Would he return?