Richard Bolitho, who had distinguished himself in the American Revolution, and a man luckier than most, had held two highly successful commands since, the last being the frigate Tempest in the Great South Sea. His final battle with the frigate Narval and supporting schooners had been legendary. The French Narval had been seized by the notorious pirate Tuke after an uprising within her own company. The Bounty mutiny, then the horrendous news from Paris had given Tuke mastery of the barely defended islands. Only Bolitho's command had stood between him and total control of the rich trade routes from the Indies.

And now Bolitho was here. He had, to all accounts, visited the Admiralty daily for several weeks. Like most professional sea-officers Drew knew a great deal about Bolitho. About his old Cornish background, and his fight against the shame which had cost his family dearly. His only brother Hugh had deserted from the navy after killing a fellow officer in a duel, and had then gone to seek his fortune in America; even worse, as a lieutenant, then the captain of a Revolutionary prize frigate.

No amount of courage and honour could completely wipe that stain away. And he had paid his debt in full, Drew thought as he turned over the papers. Wounded to the point of death; and then after the fight with Tuke's Narval Bolitho had been struck down by fever. He had not been employed for two years and, if half of what Drew had heard in the elegant rooms around St James's was true, he had nearly died many times during his fight to live.

Their Lordships must have a reason for their change of heart, the admiral decided-although on the face of it, it would seem better if Bolitho turned down this appointment, and be damned to the consequences.

Drew's eyes sharpened as he recalled the rumour about Bolitho's attachment for a government official's lovely wife. She had died of fever and exposure after some desperate journey in an open boat. Drew covered the papers with a leather folder. An official's lovely wife. That would make a change from some of the dull, earnest faces he had seen across this table, with their high-sounding requests in the name of duty or the King, as the fancy took them.