Pascoe clattered up a ladder from the gun-deck. “Captain Emes has released me to act as your guide, sir.” He smiled awkwardly. “I suspect she is little altered.”

Bolitho glanced aft and saw Emes outlined against the bright sky. Watching him, wondering if they were exchanging secrets he could not share. It was wrong and unfair, Bolitho thought. But he had to know.

“Did you see Mrs Laidlaw, Adam?”

“No, sir. I had gone before she returned.” He shrugged. “I left her a letter, of course, Uncle.”

“Thank you.”

He was glad now that he had told Pascoe about his father. If he had not…

As if reading his thoughts, Pascoe said, “When my father fought against us during the American Revolution he attacked this ship. I’ve thought about it such a lot, and have tried to see how it was for you and him.” He watched Bolitho anxiously and then blurted out, “Anyway, Uncle, I wanted to join her. Even as the most junior lieutenant I’d have come.”

Bolitho gripped his arm. “I’m glad.” He looked at the tilting deck. “For both of you.”

A midshipman ran forward and touched his hat. “Captain’s respects, sir, and there is a signal for you.”

But on the quarterdeck once more Emes seemed unruffled by the news.

“ Styx has sighted a brig to the south’rd, sir.” He looked up with sudden irritation as his own masthead called that he had sighted a strange sail. “Must be blind, that one!”

Bolitho turned to hide his face. He knew that Neale often trusted a lookout or a midshipman aloft with a powerful telescope when the visibility made it worthwhile.

Emes contained his anger. “Would you care to come below, sir? Some claret perhaps?”

Bolitho looked at him calmly. Emes was afraid of him. Ill at ease.

“Thank you. Signal Styx to investigate, if you please, while you and I share a glass.”

The cabin, like the rest of the ship, was neat and clean, but with nothing lying about to show something of its owner’s character.