THE SOUND OF FIRING transfixed the wardroom at their breakfast. After just three days on blockade, any variation to routine was welcome and there was a rush to the hatchway as saluting guns announced the approach of a smart 74 from the north.

Houghton appeared on deck, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Sir," called Bampton, who was officer-of-the-watch. "Pennants of HMS Vanguard, seventy-four, flag of Rear Admiral Nelson."

"Aha! Now we'll see some action," growled Bryant, snatching the telescope from Bampton and training it on Vanguard's quarterdeck. "Ye-e-e-s, that must be him. Always was the popinjay." He handed the glass back. "Didn't think to see him back at sea— only last year at Tenerife he lost an arm to a musket-shot, had it sawn off. Right arm it was, too."

Bampton took a brief sight, then lowered the telescope. "Yes, but a vain man, very vain," he muttered.

The ship passed close by; gold lace glinted on her quarterdeck, seamen stood rigid at their stations. In Tenacious, boatswain's calls piped attention to the new rear admiral joining and all hands tried to catch a glimpse of the renowned victor of the great battle of St Vincent, he of the "Patent Bridge for Boarding First-rates," where he had taken one enemy ship, then used it as a stepping-stone to lead an attack on his next victim.

Vanguard rounded the line to join the half-dozen or so vessels close inshore, and the officers of Tenacious returned to their breakfast.