Herrick studied him and said simply, 'Rear-Admiral Bolitho will tolerate no slackness, Mr Wolfe, no more than I will. But a fairer man I never met, nor a braver.' He walked aft again

adding, `Call me the moment you sight the barge, if you please.'

Wolfe watched him leave and said to himself, `Nor a better friend to you, I'll wager.'

Herrick went to his own quarters, aware of bustling figures, the smells of cooking and the stronger, unused scents of new timbers and tar, paintwork and cordage. She felt new all right. From keel to mainmast truck. And she was his.

He paused by the screen door and watched his wife sitting at the cabin table. She had pleasant, even features, and brown hair like his own. She was in her mid-thirties, and Herrick had given her his heart like a young lover to an angel.

The lieutenant with whom she had been speaking stood up instantly and faced the door.

Herrick nodded. 'Be easy, Adam. You are not required on deck as yet.'

Adam Pascoe, the Benbow's third lieutenant, was glad of the interruption. Not that he did not enjoy talking with Captain Herrick's lady, it was not that at all. But, like Herrick, he was very aware of today, what it could mean to him personally when his uncle's flag broke to the wind, what it might mean for them all later on.

He had been under Herrick's command in Lysander, beginning as the junior lieutenant, and because of the advancement or death of his superiors had risen to fourth lieutenant. Even now, as Benbow's third lieutenant, he was still only twenty years old. His emotions were torn between wanting to stay with Richard Bolitho or going elsewhere to a smaller, more independent vessel like a frigate or sloop.

Herrick watched his face and guessed most of what Pascoe was thinking.

He was a good-looking boy, he thought, slim and very dark like Bolitho, with the restlessness of an untrained colt. Had his father been alive he would have been proud of him.