Bolitho looked past him and saw Keverne and several of his officers watching from the opposite side of the deck. They would sense something was wrong. But when they really knew… He deliberately turned away from them.

“I have often expected some isolated outbreak.” He could not hide the anger in his voice. “Some politicians and sea officers imagine that common sailors are little better than vermin and have treated them accordingly.” He stared hard at Rook. “But for the fleet to mutiny as one man! That is a terrible thing!”

Rook seemed vaguely relieved that he had at last unburdened himself. Or maybe he had been half expecting to find the Euryalus in the hands of mutineers demanding heaven knew what.

He said, “Many fear that the worst is yet to come. There has been trouble at the Nore too, though we do not hear the full truth

down here. I have patrols everywhere in case other troublemakers come this way. Some of the ringleaders are said to be Irish, and the Admiralty may expect this to be a diversion for another attempt to invade there.” He sighed worriedly. “To live and see this thing is beyond me, and that’s a fact!”

Mutiny. Bolitho looked over to where the admiral was in close conversation with his secretary. This was a bad ending to his career. Bolitho had known the full meaning, the hot, unreasoning fury which mutiny could bring in its wake. But that was in isolated ships, where conditions or climate, privation or downright brutality of an individual captain were normally the root causes. For a whole fleet to explode against the discipline and authority of its officers, and therefore King and Parliament as well, was another matter entirely. It took organisation and extreme skill as well as some driving force at the head of it to have any hope of success. And it had succeeded, there was no doubt of that.

He said, “I will speak with Sir Charles at once.” He took the envelope from Rook’s hand. “This is a bitter homecoming.”