'There's one other thing, my Lord,' offered Templeton, eager to re-establish his own reputation in his lordship's eyes.

'What is it?'

'Drinkwater, sir,' said the clerk, plucking the fact from the file like a low trump from a bad hand, 'has been employed on secret service before: the cutter Kestrel, my Lord, employed by Lord Dungarth's department.'

A gleam of triumph showed in St Vincent's eye. 'That clinches it, Templeton. Have a letter of appointment drawn up for my signature before eight bells… noon, Templeton, noon, and instructions for Captain Drinkwater to attend here with all despatch.' He paused reflecting. 'Desire him to wait upon me on Friday.'

'Yes, my Lord.' Templeton bent to retrieve the papers scattered about the floor. St Vincent returned to his window.

'Does one smoke a viper from his nest, Templeton?' The clerk looked up.

'Beg pardon, my Lord, but I do not know.'

'No matter, but let us see what Captain Drinkwater can manage, eh?'

'Yes, my Lord.' Templeton looked up from the carpet, aware that his lordship was no longer angry with him. He wondered if the unknown Captain Drinkwater knew that the First Lord's receiving hours were somewhat eccentric and doubted it. He reflected that there were conditions to the patronage of so punctilious a First Lord as John Jervis, Earl St Vincent.

'Be so kind as to have my carriage sent round, Templeton.'

The clerk rose, his bundle of papers clasped against his chest. 'At once, my Lord.' He was already formulating the letter to his kinsman aboard the Melusine:

My Dear Germaney,

In my diurnal consultations with his excellency The First Lord, I have arranged for your new commander to he Captain Nathaniel Drinkwater. He is not to be made post, hut appointed as Job Captain so there is hope yet for your own advancement…