“I do,” said William again.

“With France?”

“And England.”

The fisherman’s eyes, that were still a bright blue, narrowed to slits of light.

“De Ruyter beat the English once—I remember it—when they brought home the Royal Charles.”

“That is what they would make us pay for now.”

“M. de Witt is for peace.”

William bent his whip across his knee.

“Nevertheless I think it will be war … the French are on the frontier.”

“Curse M. de Witt!”