Dungarth laughed. 'Ha! You lie most damnably. Come with me to the Red Lion and allow me to make amends over a glass while my horses are changed.'

Drinkwater cast a final look at the women in the shop. They seemed not to have noticed the events outside, or were ignoring his brutish outburst. He fell gratefully into step beside the earl.

'You are bound for London, my lord?'

Dungarth nodded. 'Aye, the Admiralty to wait upon Spencer. But what of you? I learned of the death of old Griffiths. Your report found its way onto my desk along with papers from Wrinch at Mocha. I was delighted to hear Antigone had been purchased into the Service, though more than sorry you lost Santhonax. You got your swab?'

Drinkwater shook his head. 'The epaulette went to our old friend Morris, my lord. He turned up like a bad penny in the Red Sea…' he paused, then added resignedly, 'I left Commander Morris in a hospital bed at the Cape, but it seems his letters poisoned their Lordships against further application for a ship by your humble servant.'

'Ahhh. Letters to his sister, no doubt, a venomous bitch who still wields influence through the ghost of Jemmy Twitcher.' They walked on in silence, turning into the yard of the Red Lion where the landlord, apprised of his lordship's imminent arrival by the emblazoned coach, ushered them into a private room.

'A jug of kill-devil, I think landlord, and look lively if you please. Well, Nathaniel, you are a shade darker from the Arabian sun, but otherwise unchanged. You will be interested to know that Santhonax has arrived back in Paris. A report reached me that he had been appointed lieutenant-colonel in a regiment of marines. Bonaparte is busy papering over the cracks of his oriental fiasco.'

Drinkwater gave a bitter laugh. 'He is fortunate to find employment…' He stopped and looked sharply at the earl, wondering if he might not have been unintentionally importunate. Colouring he hurried on: 'Truth to tell, my lord, I'm confounded irked to be without a ship. Living here astride the Portsmouth Road I see the johnnies daily posting down to their frigates. Damn it all, my lord,' he blundered on, too far advanced for retreat, 'it is against my nature to solicit interest, but surely there must be a cutter somewhere…'