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I’m as confident as he is when I’m told to take a ship from one cross on the chart to another. Nothing ever troubles him .’
    They went below, and suddenly he grasped Bolitho’s arm and pulled him against the galley bulkhead.
    ‘I’ve been thinking. You remember what Captain Conway said about young Sewell’s experiences in previous ships? One of them was the Ramillies , wasn’t it, in the Downs Squadron? Where everything started to go against him.’
    Bolitho said nothing, waiting. It was as if Dancer had just been with him. Then he said cautiously, ‘What about Ramillies ?’
    ‘Something I heard a minute ago made me stop and think. Surprised Conway didn’t know.’ He turned as if to listen as someone hurried past. ‘Our Mister Egmont was a middy on board at the same time as Sewell. A bully even then, to all accounts.’
    More figures were slipping and clattering down the ladder, jostling one another and laughing, fatigue and injuries forgotten until the next call.
    Bolitho said, ‘Then I’ve just made an enemy,’ and told him what had happened.
    Someone ducked his head through the hatch. Bolitho could see his face clearly despite the lingering gloom between decks.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Mr. Verling wants you on deck, sir.’ A quick grin. ‘“Fast as you like”, ‘e says!’
    In the silence that followed, Dancer said lightly, ‘Then I’m sorry to say Egmont’s made another enemy. He seems to have a talent for it.’
    They reached the upper deck together. There was more cloud than earlier, rain too.
    Dancer exclaimed, ‘Thunder! Not another storm, I hope.’
    Bolitho looked at him. The bond between them was even stronger.
    ‘Not on your oath, Martyn. That was cannon fire!’

----

    6

    No Quarter
    ----

    The deck seemed unusually crowded, all thought of rest and food forgotten. Some men were in the bows, peering or gesturing ahead, calling to one another, voices distorted by the wind. Others had climbed into the shrouds, but the sea was still dark and empty. And there was no more gunfire.
    Verling said, ‘Due south of us.’ His eye lit up as he gazed into the compass. ‘Dead ahead, if I’m not mistaken.’
    ‘At least we can outsail ‘em, sir.’ That was Tinker.
    Egmont snapped, ‘We’re not at war , man!’
    Verling glanced at him. ‘We take no chances, Mr. Egmont. Today’s handshake can easily become tomorrow’s broadside.’
    Dancer murmured, ‘What do you think, Dick? Heavy guns?’
    Bolitho shook his head. ‘Big enough. There was no return fire.’ Ships meeting by accident, a case of mistaken identity in the darkness and foul weather. These were busy trade routes where almost any flag might be sighted. And the possibility of war was never forgotten. Shoot first , was often the first rule.
    Smugglers, privateers, or local pirates, every deepwater sailor had to take his chance.
    Bolitho looked over toward Verling and tried to see it as he would. Facing an unknown threat, considering his own responsibility. The officer in charge … He had heard it said all too frequently. Do wrong and you carried the blame. Do right, and if you were too junior, others reaped the praise.
    Deliver Hotspur to her new command, and return to Plymouth without unnecessary delay . The orders were plain enough. Maybe Verling was weighing the choices that might lie ahead. Fight or run, as Tinker had suggested. Hotspur carried two small bow-chasers, six-pounders, quite enough to deal with trouble in home waters. But no shot had yet been brought aboard. And her four swivel guns would be useless in any serious engagement.
    Verling had made up his mind.
    ‘Stand by to shorten sail. Reef tops’ls and take in the gaff tops’l.’ Another glance at the compass. Bolitho could see his face now without the aid of the lamp. The sky was clearing, the clouds purple toward the horizon, when it was visible.
    He heard Egmont ask, ‘Shall we fight, sir?’
    Verling was gesturing to Dancer. ‘Fetch my logbook, then