A tremor went through the Mary Rose as on the Admiral's departure the starboard gangway clanged home against her side.
Brand entered the conning tower. "Stand by," he said. "Dead slow—five to starboard—ahead."
"All clear, sir," answered Captain Simpson, his hands on the levers.
"Steady! Rise."
The yacht rose gently, while the Channel Fleet fell away beneath her. Brand sat down in the chair beside the Captain, watching the indicator until the needle gauged thirty thousand feet.
"Way enough," he said. "Quarter speed ahead, west by north, half north."
"West by north, half north."
"Full speed ahead."
"Full speed it is." Captain Simpson leaned back with a sigh of relief, then glanced up sideways at the master's face.
"Light your pipe," said Brand.