"Well, we could easily put a stop to that," Nat said, "if the admiralty would refuse to appoint bad-tempered and overbearing men to any command."
The other laughed. "That would help us out of the difficulty, certainly; but I think that any change had better be deferred until they perceive, as every junior officer in the service perceives, that such men are a curse to themselves and everyone else, that they are hated by the whole crew, from the ship's boys to the first lieutenant, and that a ship with a contented and cheerful crew can be trusted at all times to do her duty against any odds."
Sailing south of the Isle of Wight, the Spartane came in through the Nab Channel. There she left her convoy, who anchored on the Mother Bank, while she sailed into Portsmouth harbour, with the white ensign flying over the tricolour. As she entered she was greeted with loud cheers by the crews of the ships of war. As soon as she had picked up moorings Nat landed at the dockyard, and, proceeding to the admiral's, reported himself there.
"The admiral is away inspecting the forts in the Needles passage," a young officer said. "Captain Painton might be able to give you any information that you require."
"I only want formally to report myself before taking post-chaise to London."
"Perhaps you had better see him," the other said, a little puzzled as to who this young officer could be who was in charge of despatches.
"I think I had."
"What name shall I say?"
"Glover."
The flag-captain was a short, square-built man, with keen eyes, and a not unpleasant expression, but bluff and hasty in manner.