'You are a supernumerary, sir?' enquired Drinkwater.

Both Cornwallis and D'Auvergne laughed, implying a knowledge that Drinkwater was not a party to.

'I should like you to convey Captain D'Auvergne back to his post at St Helier, Captain, as a small favour to the Channel Fleet and in the sure knowledge that it cannot greatly detain you.'

'It will be an honour, Sir William.'

'Very well, Captain,' said D'Auvergne, 'I am ready. Keep in good spirits, Sir William. It will be soon now if it is ever to occur.'

Unaware to what they alluded, Drinkwater asked: 'You have no baggage, Captain D'Auvergne?'

D'Auvergne grinned again. 'Good Lord no. Baggage slows a man, eh?' And the two men laughed again at a shared joke.

The meal had been a tense affair. Captain D'Auvergne had become almost silent and Drinkwater had remained curious as to his background and his function, aware only that he enjoyed a position of privilege as Cornwallis's confidant. The only clue to his origin was in his destination, St Helier. Drinkwater knew there were a hundred naval officers with incongruous French-sounding surnames who hailed from the Channel Islands. But Cornwallis had called St Helier D'Auvergne's 'post', whatever that meant, and it was clear from his appetite that he had not lived aboard ship for some time or he would have been a little more sparing with Drinkwater's dwindling cabin stores. The decanter had circulated twice before D'Auvergne, with a parting look at the retreating Mullender, leaned forward and addressed his host.

'I apologise for teasing you, Drinkwater. The fact is Cornwallis, like most of the poor fellows, is worn with the service and bored out of his skull by the tedium of blockade. Any newcomer is apt to suffer the admiral's blue devils. 'Tis truly a terrible task and to have been a butt of his irritability is to have rendered your country a service.'