He smiled even as he fretted about it. The Navy was desperate for experienced officers, and Adam Pascoe was equally eager to take the first opportunity which would carry him to his goal, a command of his own. Bolitho pushed the anxiety from his mind. Adam was just twenty-one. He was ready. He must stop worrying about him.

The sentry’s muffled voice came through the door. “Admiral’s coxswain, sah!”

Allday stepped into the cabin and smiled broadly at Bolitho. To Herrick he gave a cheerful nod. “Captain Herrick, sir.” He laid a large canvas bag on the deck.

Bolitho slipped into his uniform coat and allowed Ozzard to pull his queue over the gold-edged collar. Only one good thing had happened, and he had almost forgotten it.

“I shall shift my flag to Styx, Thomas. The sooner I contact my other ships off Belle Ile the better, I think.” He dragged a long envelope from inside his coat and handed it to the astonished Herrick. “From their lordships, Thomas. To take effect as from noon tomorrow.” He nodded to Allday who tipped a great scarlet broad-pendant on to the deck like a carpet. “You, Captain Thomas Herrick of His Britannic Majesty’s Ship Benbow at Plymouth will take upon yourself and assume the appointment of Acting-Commodore of this squadron with all direct responsibilities thereof.” He thrust the envelope into Herrick’s hard palm and wrung the other one warmly. “My God, Thomas, I feel a mite better to see you so miserable!”

Herrick swallowed hard. “Me, sir? Commodore?”

Allday was grinning. “Well done, sir!”

Herrick was still staring, his eyes on the red pendant at his feet.

“With my own flag-captain? Who, I mean what…”

Bolitho signalled for some more wine. His heart still ached as painfully as before and his sense of failure no less evident, but the sight of his friend’s confusion had helped considerably. This was their world. That other existence of marriage plans and security, talk of peace and future stability were alien here.