'Aye, Marston, that is indeed the Immortalité, and a damned fine ship she was when I was in her as a master's mate.'

'Gorn to the devil, Mister 'Ill, now we oldsters ain't there to watch. She used to gripe like a stuck porker in anything of a blow…'

'God damn it the Belleisle, by all that's holy…'

'And the Goliath …'

Drinkwater tolerated the excitement as long as it did not mar the efficiency of the Antigone. One of the look-out cruisers broke away and hauled her yards to intercept them.

'Permission to hoist the private signal, sir?' James Quilhampton crossed the deck, touching his hat.

'Very well, Mr Q.' Drinkwater nodded and lifted his glass, watching the frigate close hauled on the wind as she moved to intercept the new arrival. She was a thing of loveliness on such a morning and was sending up her royals to cut a dash and impress the Antigone's company with her handiness and discipline. The two frigates exchanged recognition and private signals.

'Number Three-One-Three, sir. Sirius, thirty-six, Captain William Prowse.'

'Very well.' Drinkwater stood upon the carronade slide and waved his hat as the two cruisers passed on opposite tacks.

'The flagship's two points to starboard, sir,' the ever-attentive Quilhampton informed him.

'Very well, Mr Q, ease her off a little.' He wondered how Antigone appeared from Sirius as the look-out frigate tacked in her wake and hauled her own yards, swinging round to regain station. Drinkwater cast a critical eye aloft and then along the deck. Tregembo was mustering the barge's crew in the waist before ordering them into the boat. Although he was far from being a wealthy officer, he had managed a degree of uniformity for his boat's crew due to the large number of slops he had acquired in two previous ships. Over their flannel shirts and duck trousers the men wore cut-down greygoes that gave the appearance of pilot jackets, while upon their heads Tregembo had placed warm sealskin caps, part of the profit of the Melusine's voyage among the ice-floes of the Arctic seas. It was a piece of conceit in which Drinkwater took a secret delight.