Admiral Sir George Whitley Deans Dundas was a balding, pouchy-faced officer of about seventy. He looked around him at the assembled seamen, acknowledged the captain's salute with grace and led the entourage of black-suited dignitaries onto the deck.
'Where have those blasted Prussians got to, I want to know,' Fisher said under his breath.
'Oh!' Karin took a deep breath and slid behind Watters. 'Hide me, please.'
'What the devil?' Watters asked.
'That's Wolfgang, my husband.'
'God, so it is.' Watters recognised him from the Stationer's Hall.
'He's an ugly looking brute,' Fisher muttered, and added, 'I do apologise, miss, I meant no offence.'
'The truth should never be offensive, Lieutenant Fisher,' Karin said graciously.
Wolfgang Stegall stepped on board with his face set and his ey
