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has become a Will-o’-the-wisp, a ghost.”
    “So, it’s long odds he might come here?” Lewrie further pressed, wondering why the Admiral commanding at Antigua had stripped himself of ships to defend the Bahamas if he still had cause to worry that his own “patch” might still be in danger.
    “Before we were despatched, an aviso cutter from Admiral Lord Nelson came in to English Harbour, announcing that he and his fleet were near the Windwards in pursuit of Villeneuve,” Grierson went on in a blasé manner, “so it may be that the French will pass near the Bahamas as they run back to European waters, but will pose no real threat. The French would fear to linger, ha ha!”
    “So, you may not stay long?” Lewrie posed.
    “Once the threat is well and truly over, I expect I’ll have to give up my other sixty-four, and perhaps my frigates, but the Bahamas will be my responsibility ’til Admiralty decides to replace me,” the new Commodore replied, rather archly, and nigh purring with pleasure.
    Which means I’m redundant, Lewrie told himself; Will he allow me to keep my wee squadron together? Or, are they all now his?
    “Well, sir, the fresh news which you’ve discovered to me is most reassuring, as is the presence of your squadron,” Lewrie told Captain Grierson, nigh-blushing to “trowel it on”, though feeling that he was eating a bowl of steaming turds. “Now that I don’t have to sink you or force you to strike, might I take my leave and rejoin my ship?”
    “Hmmm … well,” Commodore Grierson paused as if considering his decision as gravely as a king contemplating a royal decree. “If we have nothing more to discuss at this moment, you may, Lewrie.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Lewrie said, doffing his hat in parting.
    “Mind, sir,” Grierson added, “you and I must put our heads together later, to inform me of the particulars of the islands and of the other vessels which will be under my command. Once the social niceties have been held ashore, what?”
    Christ, no wonder he is dressed so well! Lewrie thought; He was lookin’ forward to a hero’s welcome and a grand ball!
    “But of course, sir. Adieu, ” Lewrie said, bowing himself to the gangway and the entry-port to make his departure.
    Commodore Grierson doffed his bicorne briefly as Lewrie went down the battens and man-ropes to his boat, surer in his opinion of not liking him.
    I could loathe him, Lewrie thought as he entered his boat.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    “Let fall the main course and get the ship drivin’, Mister Westcott!” Lewrie called as soon as he got upon his own quarterdeck. “Get us into port before one o’ those new-comes take our anchorage!”
    “Drive it will be, sir,” Lt. Westcott agreed. “Bosun, set all to the royals! Topmen aloft! Trice up and lay out to make sail! Sheet home the main course and shake out all reefs!”
    “Not that it will do much good, sir,” Mr. Caldwell the Sailing Master laconically said. “Our hull is as weeded as the New Forest.”
    “What is Commodore McNaughton like, sir?” Westcott asked, once the crew was at their tasks and sail was spreading.
    “Dead as mutton, Mister Westcott,” Lewrie said with a wry moue. “His replacement is Captain Henry Grierson.” A twitch of a corner of his mouth spoke volumes to his First Lieutenant. “Does anyone know of him?”
    “The Griersons, sir?” Midshipman The Honourable Entwhistle spoke up. “I know something of the family.”
    “Do tell then, Mister Entwhistle,” Lewrie bade him.
    Entwhistle’s father was a Baron, so all of his brothers and sisters (’til the girls married, of course) were entitled to be called “Honourable” except for the eldest brother, who would inherit all and become the umpteenth Baron Entwhistle. Of course he and his family would know a bit about almost everybody. Entwhistle had entered HMS Reliant in April of 1803 a rangy eighteen-year-old, but was now a man grown, and an experienced senior Mid looking forward