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'Slack water now, sir,' announced Bush. 'First of the ebb in ten minutes. And anchor's hove short, sir.'

'Thank you, Mr Bush.' There was enough grey light in the sky now to see Bush's face as something more definite than a blur. At Bush's shoulder stood Prowse, the acting-master, senior master's mate with an acting-warrant. He was competing unobtrusively with Bush for Hornblower's attention. Prowse was charged, by Admiralty instructions, with 'navigating and conducting the ship from port to port under the direction of the captain.' But there was no reason at all why Hornblower should not give his other officers every opportunity to exercise their skill; on the contrary. And it was possible, even likely, that Prowse, with thirty years of sea duty behind him, would endeavour to take the direction of the ship out of the hands of a young and inexperienced captain.

'Mr Bush!' said Hornblower. 'Get the ship under way, if you please. Set a course to weather the Foreland.'

'Aye aye, sir.'