Drinkwater grunted his satisfaction as Hill reported the flagship a league distant and gave his permission for sail to be shortened. There were occasions when he regretted not being able to handle the ship in the day-to-day routines but on an occasion such as the present one it gave him equal pleasure to watch the officers and men go about their duty, to remark on the performance of individuals and to note the weaker officers and petty officers in the ship. There was also the necessity to observe the whale-men he had pressed from the Hull whalers Nimrod and Conqueror; in particular a man named Waller, formerly the commander of the Conqueror, who had only escaped hanging by Drinkwater's clemency.

'Hoist the signal for dispatches, sir?'

Drinkwater turned to find the diminutive Mr Frey looking up at him. He nodded. 'Indeed yes, Mr Frey, if you will be so kind.' He smiled at the boy who grinned back. All in all, reflected Drinkwater, he was one of the most fortunate of all the post-captains hereabouts, and he cast his eyes round the horizon where ship after ship of the British fleet cruised under easy sail in three great columns with the frigates cast out ahead, astern and on either flank.

Drinkwater sniffed the fresh north-westerly breeze and felt invigorated by the delightful freshness of the morning. The storm of two nights previously had cleared the air. Even here, a hundred miles off the Isles of Stilly where already the first crocuses would be breaking through the soil, spring was in the air. He nodded at Rogers who walked over to him.

'Mornin', Sam.'

'Good morning, sir. Sail's shortened and the barge is ready for lowering.'

Drinkwater regarded his first lieutenant, remembering their previous enmity aboard the Hellebore when they had been wrecked after an error of judgement made by Samuel Rogers, and of their successes together in the Baltic in the old bomb-vessel Virago.