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otherwise sound. I have an excellent second for you. May I present Mr James Quilhampton, Master’s Mate, lately qualified at the Trinity House of London and a veteran of Copenhagen.’ He stepped aside allowing the little knot of officers to receive Quilhampton’s bow. Drinkwater turned to Germaney who resumed the introductions.
    ‘Mr Gorton, sir, whose six years are nearly up.’
    ‘How many have you served at sea, Mr Gorton?’
    ‘All of them, sir,’ replied the midshipman, looking Drinkwater in the eye. ‘I was two years a volunteer before that, sir.’ Drinkwater nodded with satisfaction. Mr Gorton seemed to possess more potential than either of the two commissioned lieutenants. He turned to the next youth, perhaps a year or two younger than Gorton.
    ‘Lord Walmsley, sir.’
    Drinkwater caught his jaw in time and merely nodded and turned to the next. Another seventeen-year-old, the Honourable Alexander Glencross essayed a bow and was received with similar frigidity. Drinkwater had the impression that neither of these two young gentlemen took their profession very seriously and was relieved to see two fairly commonplace specimens at the end of the line.
    ‘Messrs Wickham and Dutfield, sir and Mr Frey.’
    Mr Frey emerged from behind Dutfield where, Drinkwater suspected, the latter young gentleman had been holding him. Palgrave, it appeared, let his midshipmen fool about and skylark. That was all very well but it led too often to bullying and Mr Frey was a child of no more than twelve years of age.
    Germaney produced a purser named Pater, a bosun and a carpenter before drawing Drinkwater’s attention to a disreputable figure half hidden behind the mizenmast.
    ‘Mr Macpherson, our surgeon.’
    ‘Macpherson of Edinburgh, Captain,’ slurred the surgeon, his face wet with perspiration, his eyes watery with rheum, ‘A votre service.’ Drinkwater could smell the rum at a yard distant and noted the dirty coat and stained linen.
    ‘Lieutenant Mount, sir,’ Germaney ploughed on, distracting Drinkwater from the state of the surgeon. Macpherson’s shortcomings would be the subject of some conversation between captain and first lieutenant, but later, and on Germaney’s terms. ‘Lieutenant Mount, sir, of His Majesty’s Marines.’
    ‘Royal Marines, Mr Germaney, you should not neglect the new title.’ Drinkwater indicated the blue facings of a royal regiment. ‘An improvement upon the old white, Mr Mount,’ he said conversationally and paced along the line of scarlet and pipe-clayed soldiers drawn up for his inspection. Mr Mount glowed with pleasure. He had spotted the glitter of gold lace a good fifteen minutes before the midshipman of the watch and had turned his men out in time to create a good impression.
    ‘Your men do you credit, Mr Mount. I would have them all proficient marksmen to a high degree and I should like you to take charge of all the small-arms training on the ship. I have a prejudice against the junior lieutenant being responsible for the matter. He is better employed with his division and at the great guns.’
    Drinkwater looked round, pleased with the obvious stir this small innovation had caused. He strode forward to stand by the larboard hance. A solitary brass carronade marked the limit of the hallowed quarterdeck of Captain Sir James Palgrave and the non-regulation addition to Melusine’s long guns shone with an ostentatious polish.
    ‘I hope, Mr Germaney,’ said Drinkwater in a clear voice, ‘that all this tiddley work ain’t at the expense of the ship’s true fighting qualities, eh?’
    He was facing the men assembled in the waist and caught half a dozen swiftly suppressed grins.
    ‘N
    no, of course not, sir.’
    ‘Very well.’ He looked over the ship’s company. They seemed to be made up of the usual mixture. Tow headed Scandinavians, swarthy Portuguese, three negroes, an Indian and an Arab amongst a herd of old and young from the two kingdoms and the emerald isle. ‘Do your