
There was a rustle as Cornwallis lowered the papers and leaned back in his seat. He was a portly gentleman of some sixty years of age with small features and bright, keen blue eyes. He smiled cordially.
'Well, Captain Drinkwater, you are not to join us I see.'
'No, Sir William. I am under Lord Keith's command, attached to the Downs Squadron but with discretionary orders following the delivery of those dispatches.' He nodded at the contents of the waterproof packet which now lay scattered across Cornwallis's table.
'Which are…?'
'To return to the Strait of Dover along the French coast, harrying trade and destroying enemy preparations for the invasion.'
'And not, I hope, wantonly setting fire to any French villages en route, Captain?' It was the stranger in civilian dress who put this question. Drinkwater opened his mouth to reply but the stranger continued, 'Such piracy is giving us a bad name, Captain Drinkwater, giving the idea of invasion a certain respectability among the French populace that might otherwise be not over-enthusiastic about M'sieur Bonaparte.
