Beyond the Royal Sovereign, aboard the huge three-decked, first-rate Impregnable, flew the standard of Prince William Henry, Duke of Clarence and third son of King George III. As admiral-of-the-fleet, an appointment the prince had held since 1811, he was carrying out this ceremonial duty of escort as an act of political expediency by the British government. He had been removed from the frigate Andromeda in 1789, and had not served at sea since then, despite constant petitioning to the Admiralty. Notwithstanding the elevation of his birth, Their Lordships were deaf to his pleading, for he had commanded Andromeda with such unnecessary severity that he had earned the Admiralty's disapproval.

As a sop to His Royal Highness's vanity for this short, but auspicious command, His Majesty's Frigate Andromeda, lately returned from Norwegian waters with a prize of the Danish frigate Odin, was assigned to the Royal Squadron.

Other ships in company were the British frigate Jason and the Polonais, lately a French 'national frigate', but now sporting the white standard of the restored House of Bourbon, together with a pair of Russian frigates and the cutter-rigged yacht of the Trinity House.

Having scanned this impressive group of allied ships, Drinkwater closed his glass with a snap and turned on his heel, almost knocking Lieutenant Marlowe off his feet.

'God's bones, man ...!'

'I beg pardon, sir.'

'Have you nothing better to do than hang at my elbow?'

'I was awaiting your orders, sir?'

'Keep an eye on the flagship, then. I imagine the prince will want some evolutions performed before we arrive at Calais.'

The warning was a product of Drinkwater's brief encounter with His Royal Highness and his flag-captain the previous afternoon, when he had joined the squadron off Dover and had reported aboard the Impregnable.