Bolitho watched his mother, seeing her hands gripping the arms of her chair, the relief on her even features. She was glad Sir Henry had come. To restore security and kill the dangers of rumour. Bolitho had heard plenty of that on their two days of leave. Tales of smugglers, and spine-chilling talk of witchcraft near some of the smaller fishing villages. She was also relieved that Vyvyan and not her youngest son was to carry the responsibility.

Vyvyan took the steaming tankard from Mrs Tremayne and said approvingly, `God swamp me, ma'am, if I didn't hold Mrs Bolitho as a dear friend I'd lure you to Vyvyan Manor all for meseif! There's none in the whole county who can mull wine like you.'

Dancer cleared his throat. `What do you intend, sir?'

The solitary eye swivelled towards him and held steady.

`All done, me boy.' He spoke cheerfully and offhandedly, like one who is used to making and following through decisions. `Soon as I heard the news I sent word'to Plymouth. The port admiral is a friend.' The eyelid dropped in a wink. `And I'd heard that your people have been active of late against the smugglin' gentry.'

Bolitho pictured the big two-decker, Gorgon, laid up for repairs, her decks probably covered in snow. It would take longer than anticipated. Captain Conway might well see fit to grant extended leave to his junior officers. After all, when she put to sea again it could be several years before the Gorgon touched England once more.

Vyvyan added, `The admiral will send a ship to deal with this matter. I'll have no murderin' scum working my coast!'

Bolitho remembered that some of Vyvyan's land ran down to the sea itself, from the dreaded Lizard to somewhere near the Manacles. A' dangerous and cruel coastline. It would take a brave smuggler to try and land a catch there and face Vyvyan's rough justice at the end of it.