'Coil down those slack falls! Bosun's mate, chivvy those men and put some ginger into it! By God, you're as slack as the drawstrings of a Ratcliffe doxy!'

Normality settled itself upon the ship again.

'Thank you, Mr. Hill,' said Fraser somewhat sheepishly. 'The old devil had me provoked there for a moment ... it would never have happened if the captain had not been out of the ship.'

'Forget it. Fortunately that is a rare occurrence. I must confess to a certain uneasiness, considering the contents of the hold, the fog and the absence of the captain.'

'Mr. Frey is at least a diligent young man ...'

'Boat 'hoy!' The midship's sentry's call stopped the conversation dead and the two officers rushed to the rail while the suspicious marine cocked his musket. The bow of a boat emerged from the fog.

'Antigone!' came the coxswain's Cornish accent.

'By God, it's the captain returning!' Fraser flew to the entry, aware that fog and anger had caused him to fail in his duty and that Captain Drinkwater would reboard his ship with less than half a side-party because of his own inattentiveness. To his chagrin the captain's barge had not even been challenged by Frey's guard-boat which was still on the other side of the ship.

As Captain Drinkwater's head came level with the deck, Fraser set his right hand to the fore-cock of his own hat. He was relieved to hear the squeal of a pipe in his right ear. The marine sentry presented arms and the side-party, though not complete, was at least presentable.

Drinkwater swung his weight from the baize-covered man-ropes and stood on the deck, his eye taking in the details of Antigone's waist even as his own right hand acknowledged the salutes.

'Mr. Fraser,' he said, and Fraser braced himself for a rebuke. 'Sir?' The captain's sharp grey eyes made him apprehensive. 'My compliments to the first lieutenant and the master, and will they attend me in the cabin ...' 'Aye, aye, sir.' 'And Mr. Fraser 'Sir?'