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drinking some out of despair. Bolitho never drank rum. In some strange way it had dragged Allday across the margin of survival and death.
    â€œI wants to do my duty for you, sir. Like always. But somehow—”
    Bolitho said gently, “You think I might need a second cox’n, is that it?”
    Allday stared at him. Awe, astonishment, gratitude, it was all there.
    â€œGod bless you, sir.” Allday nodded. “It would help the lad, an’ I could keep an eye on him like.”
    Keen entered and stopped by the screen door. “I beg your pardon, sir.” It seemed quite natural to find the big coxswain having a quiet drink with his admiral. Keen had cause to know and respect Allday. When he had been a midshipman under Bolitho’s command he had been cut down by a great splinter which had driven into his groin like a bloody lance. The frigate’s surgeon had been a drunkard and Allday had carried the barely conscious midshipman below and cut the splinter away himself. It had saved his life. No, he would never forget, especially as the respect had become mutual.
    Bolitho smiled. “All done. With your permission, I’d like to take, er—” He glanced at Allday. “What name does he use?”
    Allday looked at his feet. “John, like me, sir.” He became serious, “Bankart. That was ’er name.”
    Keen nodded, his handsome features expressionless. His own coxswain, Hogg, had told him about it.
    Bolitho said, “A second cox’n. Good idea, eh?”
    Keen replied gravely, “None better.”
    They watched him leave and Keen said, “God, he even looks like a father now!”
    Bolitho asked, “Do you know this Bankart?”
    Keen took a glass from Ozzard and held it up to a lantern.
    â€œI saw him sworn in, sir. About twenty or so. Served in the Superb before the Peace. A clean bill.”
    Bolitho looked away. Keen had checked up already. To protect him or Allday, it did not matter which.
    Keen said, “I am in despair over the Orontes, sir. Her master ignores Captain Inch’s instructions and I am fast becoming impatient with the fellow.” He eyed Bolitho thoughtfully. “I’ve a mind to go aboard tomorrow.”
    Bolitho smiled. “Yes. I think my flag-captain will get more done than Inch’s lieutenants.”
    Stayt entered the cabin and handed Ozzard his hat. He too had apparently been considering the Orontes.
    â€œI think I have discovered why the other transport sailed on without Orontes, sir.” He leaned over to move a chair and for a second or so revealed the bright pistol beneath his coat. “ Philomela carries gold as well as human beings. The paymaster for New South Wales is with it.”
    Bolitho rubbed his chin. That was strange. Nobody had mentioned it before.
    Keen said bitterly, “Afraid to put his money in a man-of-war, is he? In case we have to fight for him, damn his eyes!”
    Ozzard hovered by the other screen door. He had heard everything but would keep it to himself. He had known all about the gold, as did most of the squadron. It was funny that the officers were always the last to hear such matters, he thought.
    â€œDinner is served, Sir Richard,” he said meekly.
    When Bolitho went on deck the following morning he saw the disarray in his ships after a mounting overnight gale. Now, as each captain endeavoured to place his ship on the required station, the wind just as mischievously dropped to a wet breeze, to leave the heavier vessels rolling uncomfortably in the troughs, their sails flapping and banging in confusion.
    Keen glared across at the Orontes. Quite rightly Inch had cast off the tow during the night to avoid a collision and now it would have to begin all over again.
    Keen sounded exasperated. “Call away the gig. I shall go over to her.” He took a glass from the midshipman-of-the-watch and trained it on the drifting transport. Half to himself he said,