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the frigate's captain, looked more like a Frenchman than an English sea officer. Very dark and swarthy, with thick greasy hair, he had features so narrow that his deepset eyes seemed to dominate his whole appearance.
    He looked at Captain George Probyn of the Nicator and gave a brief smile. They had served together in the old Trojan when the American Revolution had erupted to change the face of the whole world. Yet it was almost impossible to see him in those times. He sat hunched against the table like a large, shabby innkeeper. A year or so older than Bolitho, he had left the Trojan in much the same manner as himself. To take command of a captured blockade runner and sail her as a prize to the nearest friendly port. Unlike Bolitho, however, whose chance had led directly to his first command, Probyn had been captured by an American privateer and had fretted out most of the war as a prisoner until an exchange had been made with a French officer. Those vital years in his early service had obviously cost him dearly. He looked uneasy, with a sly, darting way of examining his fellow captains and then looking down into his clasped hands.
    Herrick said formally, 'All present, sir.'
    Bolitho looked at the table. In his mind's eye he was seeing his written orders. You are hereby authorised and directed to proceed with jour squadron to ascertain by every means in y our power the presence and destination of considerable armaments ...
    He began quietly, As you will know, the enemy has spent much time in seeking out some flaw in our defences. Apart from our successes at sea, we have been able to do litde to stop the spread of French progress and influence. In my view, Bonaparte has never changed from his original tack, which was and still must be to reach India and seize our trade routes. The French admiral, Suffren, almost succeeded during the last war.' He saw Herrick's eyes flicker towards him, no doubt remembering when they had sailed together in the East Indies, seeing for themselves t he determination of their old en emy to regain ground lost in that uneasy peace. 'Today Bonaparte must know that any delay in his preparations can only give us time to gain strength.'
    They all looked round as Inch exclaimed cheerfully, 'We'll show them, sir!' He grinned at the others. 'Like we did before!'
    Bolitho smiled. Glad that Inch, if ignorant of the facts, had not changed. Thankful that his excited comment had broken some of the distance between himself and the others.
    'Thank you, Commander Inch. Your optimism does you credit.'
    Inch bobbed and flushed with pleasure.
    'However, we have no real intelligence of which way the French will move first. The bulk of our fleet is operating from the Tagus, to keep a wedge between the French and their Spanish allies. But the enemy may attack Portugal because of our presence there, or indeed he may attempt to invade Ireland again.' He could not conceal his bitterness. As they intended when our own Navy was beset with misfortune which broke last year in the great mutinies at the Nore and Spithead.'
    Farquhar looked at his cuff. 'Should have hanged a thousand of the devils, not a mere handful!'
    Bolitho eyed him coldly. 'Perhaps if a little more thought had been given to our sailors' wants in the first place, no punishment would have been needed at all!'
    Farquhar smiled up at him. 'I take the point, sir.'
    Bolitho looked at his scattered papers, giving himself time. He had risen too easily to Farquhar's intolerance.
    He continued, 'Our duty will be first to examine the progress of French preparations in the Gulf of Lions. At Toulon, Marseilles and any other port about which we can discover enemy activity.' He looked at each of them gravely. 'Our fleet is stretched to the limit. We cannot afford to allow the enemy to scatter it to the extent it can be devoured piece by piece. Likewise, we must not have a large fleet at one end of the ocean while the enemy is at the other. Seek, find and bring 'em to