'Are you married sir?' St Vincent asked sharply.

'Er, yes, my lord,' replied Drinkwater, taken aback.

'A pity, sir, a pity. A married officer is frequently lost to the service. Come let us descend to my cabin and arrange for the disposition of your convoy. Sir Robert, a moment of your time…'

When the business of the fleet had been attended to Drinkwater had a few minutes for an exchange of news with White while Victory backed her maintopsail and summoned Hellebore's boat.

'How is Elizabeth, my dear fellow?'

'She goes along famously, Richard, and would have asked to be remembered to you had she known we might meet.'

'When were you gazetted, Nat?'

'After Camperdown.'

'Ah, so you were there. Damn! That still gives you the advantage of one fleet action to boast of ahead of me,' he grinned. 'D'you have many other old Kestrels besides Griffiths on your brig?'

'Aye, Tregembo you remember, and old Appleby…'

'What? That old windbag Harry Appleby? Well I'm damned. She looks a long-legged little ship, Nat,' he nodded at the brig.

'She's well enough, but you still have the important advantages,' replied Drinkwater, a sweep of his hand including Victory, the puissant personages upon her deck and alluding to White's rapid rise by comparison with his own. 'Convoy work ain't quite the way to be made post.'

'No, Nat, but my bet is you're ordered up the Mediterranean, eh?' Drinkwater nodded and White went on, 'that's where Nelson is, before Toulon, Nat, and wherever Nelson is there's action and glory.' White's eyes gleamed. 'D'you know St Vincent sent him back into the Med after we evacuated it last year and a month ago he reinforced Nelson with Troubridge's inshore squadron. Sent the whole lot of 'em off from the harbour mouth before Curtis's reinforcements had come up with the fleet. And the blasted Dons didn't even know the inshore squadron had been changed! What d'you think of that, eh? No,' he patted Drinkwater's arm condescendingly, 'the Med's the place, Nat there's bound to be action with Nelson.'