How had Dancer known about the Board’s members?

He did not seem troubled by it, but that was Dancer. His way, his shield. No wonder he had won a kind of respect even from some of the hard men in Gorgon’s company.

And from Bolitho’s sister Nancy, in the short time Dancer had stayed at the house in Falmouth. She was only sixteen, and it was hard for Bolitho to accept her as a woman. She was more used to the youngsters around Falmouth, farmers’ sons, and the callow young men who made up the bulk of the officers at the garrisons in Pendennis and Truro. But it had not been merely his imagination. She and Dancer had seemed to belong together.

Three captains. There was no point in wondering why. A sudden sense of urgency? Unlikely. There were far too many officers in a state of stalemate, with no prospect of promotion. Only war increased demand, and cleared the way on the Navy List.

Or perhaps it was the admiral’s idea…

He looked over at Dancer, who appeared serenely oblivious.

Colchester said, ‘You will wait here until you are called.’ He got slowly to his feet, his lank hair brushing the deckhead beams. ‘Be patient, gentlemen. Always fire on the uproll…’

Dancer watched him leave, and said, ‘If I get through today, Dick, I shall always owe it to you!’

Not so confident, then. Bolitho looked away, the words lingering in his mind. He had thought it was the other way around.

2

Not A Contest

Waiting was the worst part, more than either of them would admit. And here they were shut off from life, while the great ship throbbed and murmured above and around them. The clerk’s cabin consisted merely of the screens which separated it from the marines’ quarters and stores, and was devoid of ports; the only light came from vents above the door and two small lanterns. How Colchester coped with his letters and files was a mystery.