
'Well?'
'Three, my Lord,' said Templeton, short of breath from his haste. 'There are three whose persistence has been most marked.'
'Go on, sir, go on.'
'White, my Lord, Captain Richard White…'
'Too senior for a sloop, but he must have the next forty-four, pray do you note that…'
'Very well, my Lord. Then there is Yelland. He did prodigious well at Copenhagen…'
St Vincent sniffed. Whatever Yelland had done at Copenhagen was not enough to overcome the First Lord's prejudice. Templeton, aware that his own desire to please was bordering on the effusive, contrived to temporise: 'Though of course he is only a commander…'
'Just so, Templeton. Melusine is a twenty, a post-ship. Who is the third?'
'Er… Drinkwater, my Lord. Oh I beg your pardon he is also only a commander.'
'No matter,' St Vincent mused on the name, trying to recall a face. 'Drinkwater?'
'I shall have to return…' began Templeton unhappily, but the First Lord cut him off.
'Read me his file. We may appoint him temporarily without the necessity of making him post.'
Templeton's nerve was near breaking point. In attempting to shuffle the files several papers came loose and floated down onto the rich carpet. He was beginning to regret his rapid promotion and thank his stars it was only temporary. He had forgotten all about his promises to his kinsman on the Melusine.
