"Thank you, sir—Great Death! you thrashed the Fleet!"
"I've done more," the master sighed. "I've broken a man's heart. Poor Rothschild!"
"Was that the Jew admiral?"
"A great gentleman," said Brand. "Are you sure, Simpson, that you can remember that formula for explosives?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell your ship's company that I don't ask them to face war risks on peace wages. The pay and pension rates are doubled from the first of this month." The captain started to his feet. "There, go away and take an hour's rest."
The captain grabbed Brand's shoulder from behind. "A warning, sir. The Dictator tried to bribe me, and he's bought nearly all your skippers. Don't let them know that new formula."
Brand turned round and shook hands with him.
"Get below," he said, "and, by the way, tell somebody to ask His Royal Highness to join me here."
The captain rolled away down the ladder. "Thrashed the Fleet," he muttered, "thrashed the whole Fleet! Great Death!"