`England is fighting for her life! Even as we lie here, anchored and impotent, our country is at war with France and Spain, with the Dutch and the rebellious colonialists in the Americas. Every single ship is needed to win the day, each man amongst you is vital to our just cause!' He paused and waited a few seconds. In the Sparrow his men would have cheered, would have shown some animation. Suddenly, as he stared along the packed, expressionless faces he felt a pang of longing and loneliness. In his mind's eye he could see the little sloop's cheerful, tanned company, like a lot of carefree pirates. The healthy faces, the feeling of oneness which was totally absent here. He saw Stockdale standing by the lee rail and wondered what he thought about his new shipmates.

He allowed a note of hardness to creep into his voice. 'Today we sail for Falmouth.' He steeled himself. `And from thence to the West Indies to join Sir Samuel Hood against the French and their allies!'

No individual called out, but something like a moan of pain transmitted itself through the packed figures below him. A petty officer snarled, `Silence on deck! Keep quiet, you scum!'

Bolitho added flatly, `I ask nothing but your loyalty. I will do my duty, and I would wish you to do the same!' He turned on his heel. `Carry on, Mr. Vibart. We will make sail in one hour. See that all boats are secured, and then be so good as to have the anchor hove short.' His tone was cold and final, but the lieutenant blocked his way, his mouth working angrily.

`But, sir! The West Indies!' He struggled for words. `God, we've been on the blockade for two years!'

Bolitho let his voice carry to, the other officers. `And I have been away for six, Mr. Vibart!' He walked aft where Stockdale soundlessly marked the cabin hatch for his retreat. `I want all officers and senior warrant officers in my cabin in ten minutes!'