'An hour sitting in the sunshine and you'll have an appetite like a midshipman, Vansittart. Now heed what I say and keep your eyes on the horizon ... good man.'

Vansittart mumbled his thanks and Drinkwater left him. One bell was struck forward as Drinkwater paused at the top of the companionway.

'I'm goin' below to break my fast, Mr Frey. When the watch changes and you're relieved, give Mr Metcalfe my compliments and tell him we'll exercise the guns during the forenoon.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

'And keep an eye on our guest,' he added in a low voice.

'Beggin' yer pardon, sir,' the quartermaster asked Frey when the captain had gone, 'but who is 'e?' The man jerked his head at the crumpled figure sitting miserably on the gun-truck.

'Mr Vansittart's a King's Messenger,' Frey explained.

'Bloody 'ell! Can't 'is Majesty find someone more fit to the task, sir?' The old man dropped his voice and muttered, for the benefit of his companions at the wheel, 'Reckon 'e's proof the King's bleedin' barmy.'

CHAPTER 2

Roast Pork and Politics 

August 1811

'Fire!'

Beside him, Drinkwater was aware that Vansittart winced for the eighth time, shocked by the concussion of the starboard battery which was now, after the fourth broadside, almost simultaneous in its discharges.

'Very well, Mr Metcalfe, you may secure the guns and pipe up spirits.' Drinkwater turned to Vansittart who had earlier expressed a wish to 'see the cannon fired'.

'I'm afraid, sir, you'll have little option,' Drinkwater had said at breakfast when he had announced his intention of exercising the gun-crews. 'When we clear for action the bulkheads will be removed and your cabin will cease to exist.'

Vansittart's look of mistrust, of being wary in his nautical inexperience of being mocked, had amused Drinkwater.