"The Captain," Mr. Midshipman Hyde gawped.

"Commodore Nelson," Mr. Midshipman Spendlove supplied.

"That… bugger!" Lewrie opined, as his crew sprang to loosen braces and heads'l sheets. He heard Lieutenant Knolles and Bosun Cony barking urgent orders, felt the deck shift under his feet as his ship heeled to wear about, falling off the wind, spared a second to observe that things were well in hand. Then spared a longer glower at Nelson and his two-decker.

No one left the sacred order of the line of battle, no one, not ever! The Fighting Instructions were nigh to Gospel, and God pity the fool who disobeyed them. To turn away leeward, away from presenting a broadside to those Spanish warships, that could be called Cowardice in the Face of the Enemy-a hanging offence!

"Bugger!" Commander Lewrie snarled again. Not only was Nelson swinging clear of danger… he was forcing him to swing clear too!

Jester had been a cable to leeward of the line when HMS Captain began her turn, a fairly wide one to retain her speed. Being a smaller ship with smaller sails than a liner, she could cut a smaller radius of turn. So they ended up close together, once both ships had worn about to larboard tack, with the scant winds crossing their left-hand sides, for Captain was standing on almost Easterly to build back up to speed. They were within shouting distance.

Lewrie stood by the larboard bulwarks, hands fisted and akimbo on his hips, wondering just how much of what he had to say to a man who had just quit the line he could get away with.

Damn 'im, he's still a Commodore! Lewrie fumed to himself.