He turned aft and stalked away beneath the poop to seek the one place he could be alone.

Sedgemore watched him go and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

A post-captain-what Sedgemore himself would be one day if everything went well for him, and he managed to avoid Cazalet's fate.

To be captain of a ship like Black Prince… He looked up and around him. There was no higher reward for any man. He would want for nothing.

He saw the midshipman staring at him and rasped, "Mr M'Innes, I'll trouble you not to waste your time, sir!"

It was uncalled for; but it made him feel more like a first lieutenant.

Lieutenant Stephen Jenour caught his breath as he turned the corner above the shining dockyard stairs which led directly down to the landing stage. After two months ashore either working for Vice-Admiral Sir Richard Bolitho or visiting his parents in Southampton, he felt at odds with the sea and the bitter wind.

He thrust open a small door and saw a blazing fire shining a welcome across the room.

A uniformed servant asked coldly, "Your name, sir?"

"Jenour." He added sharply, "Flag lieutenant to Sir Richard Bolitho."

The man bowed himself away, muttering something about a warming drink, and Jenour was childishly pleased at his ability to command instant respect.

"Welcome, Stephen." Bolitho was sitting in a high-backed chair, the fire reflecting from his gold lace and epaulettes. "We have a while yet."

Jenour sat down and smiled at him. So many things had changed his young life since joining Bolitho. His parents had laughed at him for vowing that one day he would serve this incredible man who had been, until Nelson's death at Trafalgar less than three years ago, the second youngest vice-admiral on the Navy List. Now he was the youngest.