He swung away, and Dancer closed the door quietly behind him.

Dancer knew exactly what he had meant, and

was moved to have shared the moment with him. He crossed to a window and peered through the

streaming glass. Almost lost in the winter's gloom

the sea was lively and criss-crossed with angry crests. It was out there waiting for them to return. He smiled and started to undress. Well, it could damned well wait a bit longer!

`So, Martyn, what did you think of your first free evening?'

The two midshipmen sat on either side of a roaring log fire, legs outstretched, eyes drooping from the heat and the biggest meal Mrs Tremayne had prepared for some time.

Dancer raised his goblet and watched the flames change colour through the ruby port and smiled contentedly.

`Something akin to a miracle.'

It had been a lengthy meal, with Bolitho's mother and his young sister Nancy both eager and willing just to let them talk. Bolitho had found himself wondering how many tales had been passed across that same table, some embroidered no doubt, but all true.

Nancy had worn a new gown for the occasion, which she apparently had' made in Truro. `The latest

thing in France.' It had been low-cut, and although her mother had frowned once or twice, it made her look younger rather than wanton.

She was much more like her mother than her sister, who took after the Bolitho side of the family, with the same ready smile which had charmed Captain James Bolitho when he had taken a Scottish girl for his wife.

Nancy had made a great impression on Dancer, and Bolitho guessed it was probably mutual.

Outside the curtained windows it was quieter, the sleet having given way to snow, which had already covered the outbuildings and stables in a thick, glistening blanket. No one would be moving very far tonight, Bolitho thought, and he pitied the coach on its way to Penzance.