"She's a champion!"

That night glasses were raised to Tenacious in the wardroom, but as the ship neared the other side of the Atlantic a more sombre mood prevailed. Exercise of gunnery took on new meaning as the ominous rumble of heavy guns was felt through the deck at all hours. Who knew what trial by battle lay ahead?

Landfall on the continent of Europe was the looming heights of Portugal's Cape St Vincent, which faded into the dusk as they held course through the night. The officers took their breakfast quietly and though the fleet was not expected to be sighted before the afternoon every one went on deck straight after the meal.

"News! For the love of God, let us have news," groaned Adams, running his hands through his fair hair. They had been cut off from the world for weeks across the width of the Atlantic and anything could have happened.

"For all we know of it," Bampton said drily, "we may be sailing into an empty anchorage, the Spanish gone to join the French and our grand battle decided five hundred miles away."

Bryant glared at him.

"Or peace declared," said Renzi.

Conversations tailed off at the mention of this possibility and all the officers turned towards him. He continued, "Pitt is sorely pressed, the coalition in ruins, and the threat to our shores could not be greater. If he treats with the French now, exchanges colonies for peace, he may secure a settlement far preferable to a long-drawn-out war of attrition." He paused. "After all, France alone has three times our population, a five times bigger army—"

"What do y' mean by this kind o' talk, sir?" Bryant snapped.

"Simply that if a French or Spanish vessel crosses our bows, do we open with broadsides? Is it peace or is it war? It would go hard for any who violate hard-won terms of peace ..."

At a little after two, the low, anonymous coast of Spain firmed in a bright haze ahead. The mainmast lookout bawled down, "Deck hoooo! Sail-o'-the-line, a dozen or more—at anchor!" The long wait was over.