Neale said helpfully, “I did hear she had been fitting out in Ireland, sir. But I imagined it was for use as guard-ship or accommodation vessel.”

Bolitho stared out at the advancing lines of jagged whitecaps. Phalarope. After all this time, so many miles, so many ships and faces. Herrick may have seen the signals book by now. It would mean so much to him too. Bolitho took a sharp breath. And Allday, who had been brought aboard Phalarope as a pressed man like a felon.

He realized that the midshipman was still watching him, his eyes filling his face.

Bolitho touched his arm. “You have nothing to worry about, Mr Kilburne. It was just a shock, that is all. She was a fine ship; we made her something special.”

Neale said, “With respect, sir, you made her that.”

Bolitho descended the ladder again and then strode aft towards the marine sentry by the cabin door.

He saw a figure squatting on one of the Styx ’s twelve-pounders. It was gloomy between decks and still too early for wasting lanterns where they were not needed. Had it been pitch dark Bolitho would have known Allday’s sturdy figure. Like an oak. Always nearby when he was needed. Ready to use his cheek when his courage was to no avail.

He made to stand but Bolitho said quietly, “Rest easy. You’ve heard then?”

“Aye, sir.” Allday nodded heavily. “It’s not right. Not fair.”

“Don’t be an old woman, Allday. You’ve been at sea long enough to know better. Ships come and go. One you served in last year might lie alongside you tomorrow. Another you may have seen in a dozen different ports, or fighting in a hundred fights, yet never set foot aboard, may well be your next appointment.”

Allday persisted stubbornly. “S’not that, sir. She were different. They’ve no right to put her in the Bay, she’s too old, an’ I doubt if she ever got over the Saintes. God knows, I never did.”

Bolitho watched him, suddenly uneasy. “There’s nothing I can do. She will be under my command, like the others.”