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the Vernon , is she not? Being refitted at the government docks, and currently coppering further down?”
     
    “Aye that’s her,” Crowley said doubtfully.
     
    “Well she’ll be there a while longer,” Walsh said evenly. “They have more work to do than was thought; word is it will be months afore she sees water; some say the spring.”
     
    “Spring?” Crowley shook his head. “That’s not what I’ve heard,” he said.
     
    “Well, you can take a view; I might have it wrong, though I’m pretty sure of my story. Main thing is, Portsmouth ain’t the place to wait, not when the press is about. You could think about headin’ somewhere else.”
     
    “Aye, a spell inland, maybe,” Doyle agreed. “Or take up with a coaster?”
     
    They were right, holding off a few weeks for Vernon was one thing, but the time had already stretched on far longer than that. And if he did really have to wait until the following year, he should at least find somewhere a little safer. Shipping with a merchant was not in any way a guarantee against being pressed, but the money was far better than any the Royal Navy paid, and he was starting to feel the lack of funds.
     
    “Or come with us, Michael.” MacArthur said as if in revelation. “By next year you could be back in England. See the country put to rights, then choose where you want to sail, and who to sail with.”
     
    Crowley grinned. “I have to give you credit for trying. But my mind is made up.”
     
    “Made up? Now how would that be?” Doyle had total control over his coughing now and stared hard at Crowley. “You know not when you will go, and little more where. An’ you as any understand the way the yards work. Chances are high it will be six month or more afore your ship is ready, and then what? Spend the rest of the war rubbing against a lee shore on blockade? Do that if you wish, but in the meantime you can choose between staying with your friends and supporting a just cause, or being taken by the press and ending up in some Godforsaken hulk until someone else decides on where you are bound, and who you will fight.”
     
    “I’m not sure, I have to think.”
     
    “Send a message to yer man, if you will.” Doherty suggested. “Ask him how long the ship will be. He’ll fill you in, no doubt.”
     
    “Aye, that is a thought.” Crowley reached into his pocket and found King’s letter. He unfolded it on the table and looked about. “I’ll go now, if that suits?”
     
    “Beware the press,” Walsh cautioned. “We can see a message gets delivered.”
     
    “No, I’d better do this in person,” he said, and folded up the letter once more. “And if it is as you say, well then, maybe we should talk some more.”
     
    * * *
     
    The frigate was by no means a certainty, but the round trip from Portsmouth to see her would take all of a week, so King had felt justified in giving up the tiny attic room and leaving his sea chest and most other belongings with the Mannings. The captain’s carriage had collected him and Caulfield from Exeter’s post stop the day before; and now, as he bounced along on the final leg of the journey, he was starting to feel mildly excited. It was mid-afternoon: there would be plenty of time to view the ship in daylight, and Banks must have been impressed to have sent for them in the first place. He grinned at Caulfield who, despite the rigours of mail coach travel, seemed just as eager and ready as him.
     
    “Sir Richard said to be sure to meet him at the hotel,” King shouted above the noise, as the carriage swung round and began the long, narrow decline towards the harbour. “Probably doesn’t want us digging about his new ship afore he has had a chance to view her first.”
     
    “We have yet to see if she is to be his,” Caulfield reminded him. “Besides, he has had time enough to inspect her properly.”
     
    The Marine Hotel came into view on their right as they headed for the town quay, and Banks was