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'Up with the helm a little more, Mr Prowse, if you please. I'd like to pass her closer still.'

Now Hornblower could make out a little area of water beside the fishing-boat that was of a totally different colour. It had a metallic sheen quite unlike the rest of the grey sea; the fishing-boat had found a shoal of pilchards and her seine was now closing in on it.

'Mr Bush. Please try to read her name.'

They were fast closing on her; within a few moments Bush could make out the bold white letters on her stern.

'From Brest, sir. Duke's Freers.'

With that prompting Hornblower could read the name for himself, the Deux Frères, Brest.

'Back the maintops'l, Mr Young!' bellowed Hornblower to the officer of the watch, and then, turning back to Bush and Prowse, 'I want fish for my supper tonight.'

They looked at him in ill-concealed surprise.

'Pilchards, sir?'

'That's right.'

The seine was close in alongside the Deux Frères, and masses of silver fish were being heaved up into her. So intent were the fishermen on securing their catch that they had no knowledge of the silent approach of the Hotspur, and looked up in ludicrous astonishment at the lovely vessel towering over them in the sunset. They even displayed momentary panic, until they obviously realised that in time of peace a British ship of war would do them less harm than a French one might, a French one enforcing the Inscription Maritime.