They had discussed the possibility of his serving under Drinkwater, but the matter had been compromised by the appointment of Metcalfe to the Patrician. Besides, Quilhampton had had independent command of a gun-brig and itched again for his own quarterdeck, no matter how small. The career of His Majesty's gun-brig Tracker had terminated suddenly in capture, and though cleared by a court-martial, Quilhampton wanted nothing more than to prove himself. [See Under False Colours.] Drinkwater could only support his friend's ambition and promise to do what he could, leaving Quilhampton to enjoy the favours of his bride for a little longer.

But there were more immediate and pressing matters to consider, matters upon which all these wild and selfish speculations depended. To these Drinkwater now gave his attention.

'How are the men shaping up in your opinion, Mr Frey?'

'You know how it is, sir. At the moment the old hands delight in showing the landsmen their superiority and in frightening them with their antics aloft.'

'Aye, I've seen the conceit of the t'gallant yard monkeys.'

'In a day or two they'll tire of that and begin to complain that all the labour falls on their shoulders.'

'Once we run out of fresh food, I expect,' Drinkwater added.

'Yes, sir,' Frey thought of the cabbages stowed in the boats on the booms and the rupture they had caused between himself and the first lieutenant. Relations between Mr Metcalfe and himself were not cordial.

'Happily this passage should settle most of them into the ship's routine and teach them their business,' Drinkwater went on, thinking of White's caution. 'Thank heavens we ain't keeping watch and ward off Ushant with the Black Rocks under our lee and the guns at St Matthew contestin' the point every time we stick our nose into Brest Road ... Good Lord…'

Drinkwater broke off, excused himself and walked forward as the pale figure of Vansittart appeared, rising cautiously from the companionway.