Now, as they strode through the mud and slush, past the old church and ancient trees, it was hard to believe it had ever happened. Searching for corsairs, retaking the brig Sandpiper and using her to destroy a pirate's ship after a chase through dangerous reefs. Men had died, many more had suffered from all the countless burdens which beset sailors everywhere. Bolitho had fought hand to hand, had been made to kill, had watched one of the Gorgon's midshipmen fall dead during an attack on a slaver's stronghold. They were no longer boys. They had become young men together.

`There it is.' Bolitho pointed at the big grey house, square and uncompromising, almost the same colour as the low, scudding clouds and the headland beyond.

Through the gates and up to the broad doorway. He did not even have to reach for one of the massive iron-ringed handles, for the doors swung inwards and he saw Mrs Tremayne, the housekeeper, rushing to meet him, her red face beaming with pleasure.

She hugged him to her, overwhelming him, bringing back even more memories. Her smell of clean linen and lavender, of kitchens and hung bacon. She was well over sixty-five, and was as much a part of the house as its foundations.

She rocked him back and forth like a child, although he was a head taller than she.

`Oh, young Master Dick, what have they done to 'ee?' She was almost in tears. 'You'm as thin as a reed, nothin' to 'ee at all. I'll soon put some meat on your bones.'

She saw Dancer for the first time and released him reluctantly.

Bolitho grinned, embarrassed but pleased at her concern. She had been far worse when he had first gone to sea at the age of twelve.

`This is my friend, Martyn Dancer. He's to stay with us.'

They all turned as Bolitho's mother appeared on the great stairway.

`And you will be most welcome.'

Dancer watched her, entranced. He had heard plenty about Harriet Bolitho during the long seawatches and the rare moments of peace between decks. But she was like no woman in his imaginary picture. She seemed too young to be Richard's mother, too.fragile even to be left so often alone in this great stone house below the Pendennis Castle headland.