As the frigate's gig had pulled strongly towards the sally-port she had clasped her arms around his neck, her face wet with rain and drifting spray.

"I love thee, dearest of men." She had kissed him hard, unable to release him until the boat had hooked on with a noisy clatter. Then, and only then, had she turned from him, pausing just briefly to add, "Tell Allday I said to take good care of you."

The rest was lost as if darkness had suddenly descended.

There was a sharp tap at the screen door.

Captain Poland stepped into the cabin, his cocked hat jammed beneath one arm.

Bolitho saw his eyes flit around the shadows, as if he expected to see his quarters completely changed or gutted.

Bolitho sat down again, his hands on the edge of the bench seat. Truculent was a fine ship, he thought. He pictured his nephew, Adam, and wondered if he had yet accepted the greatest gift, the command of his own frigate. His ship was probably commissioned by now, even at sea like this one. He would do well.

He asked, "News, Captain?"

Poland looked at him squarely. "Land in sight, Sir Richard. The Master, Mr Hull, thinks it is a perfect completion."

Always the caution. Bolitho had noticed it before when he had asked Poland to sup with him a few times during the voyage.

"And what do you think, sir?"

Poland swallowed hard. "I believe it to be true, Sir Richard." He added as an afterthought, "The wind has dropped-it will take most of the day to stand close to the mainland. Even TableMountain is only plainly visible from the fore-topmast."

Bolitho reached for his coat, but decided against it. "I shall come up. You have performed a fast and exceptional passage, Captain. I shall say as much in my final despatches."

It would have been comic at any other time to see the swift changes of thought and expression on Poland 's sun-reddened features. A written compliment from the viceadmiral, the hero, which might facilitate an even quicker advancement for the captain.