He never tired of recalling each separate incident, even that stark moment when Black Prince had been about to leave Copenhagen in search of Herrick, and Bolitho had turned on him in pleading desperation and confirmed his worst fears. "I am losing my sight, Stephen. Can you keep a secret so precious to me?" And later when Bolitho had said, "They must not know. You are a dear friend, Stephen. Now there are other friends out there who need us."

Jenour sipped the hot drink. There was brandy in it, and spices too, and his eyes smarted but he knew it was from that memory and nothing else.

A dear friend, and one of the few who knew the extent of the injury to Bolitho's left eye. To be entrusted with such a secret was a reward greater than anything he had believed possible.

He asked carefully, "What will Captain Keen's answer be, Sir Richard?"

Bolitho put down his empty goblet and thought of Catherine, imagined he could still feel the warmth of her body in his arms as they had parted this morning. She would be well on her way to London now, to the house she had bought by the river in Chelsea. Their private place as she had called it, where they could be alone together when they were required to be in the capital.

It was strange to be without Allday, but his coxswain-his "oak"-had gone with Yovell, his secretary, and Ozzard his little servant, in the same coach. Catherine was fearless, but Bolitho felt safer on her behalf knowing that she travelled with such a staunch escort.

He thought too of his last interview with Lord Godschale at the Admiralty, and Godschale's attempts to soothe him whenever he touched on a point which might provoke controversy.