As the tide and wind swung the cutter to her cable Bolitho saw her name painted across her raked quarter. Avenger. The dead revenue man would have approved, he thought grimly.

A small knot of onlookers had gathered on the wall to watch the newcomer. But not too many. People who lived by and off the sea were always wary of a King's ship, no matter how small.

Bolitho started as the boat hooked on to the jetty stairs and a burly seaman hurried towards him and knuckled his forehead.

`Mr Midshipman Bolitho, sir?'

Dancer chuckled. `Even out of uniform you are recognized, Dick!'

The seaman added, `My cap'n wishes a word, sir.'

Mystified, they walked to the stairs as the cocked hat and shoulders of Avenger's commander appeared above the wet stones.

Bolitho stared with amazement. `Hugh!'

His brother regarded him impassively. `Aye, Richard.' He nodded to Dancer, and then called to

his coxswain, `Return to the ship. My compliments to Mr Gloag, and tell him I will signal when I require the boat.'

Bolitho watched him, his feelings mixed and confused. Hugh was supposed to be in a frigate, or so he thought. He had changed quite a lot since their last meeting. The lines at his mouth and jaw were deeper, and his voice carried the rasp of authority. But the rest was unchanged. The black hair like his own, and like some of the portraits in the house, tied above his collar with a neat bow. Steady eyes, strained after long hours of sea duty, and the same old air of supreme confidence which had brought them to blows in the past.

They fell in step, Hugh thrusting past the onlookers with barely a glance.

As they walked he said,. `Is Mother well?' But he sounded distant, his mind elsewhere.

`She'll be glad to see you, Hugh. It will make it a real Christmas.'