Above his head he could hear the muffled bark of orders, the sounds of men hurrying to their stations for the last change of tack before entering English Harbour. He had been wondering what might be waiting for them here, orders, or a new appraisal of American intentions, and the prospect of fresh fruit and the chance of stretching his legs on dry land had pleased him. That had been before they had met with the convoy, and had received news of Anemone. Against orders, the little brig Woodpecker had returned under cover of darkness to the scene of the battle, but had found nothing. The brig’s commander, Nicholas Eames, had come aboard Indomitable without delay to make his report. Avery had known that Bolitho was tearing himself apart because of what had happened. Eames had said, “Anemone came about and went into the attack, Sir Richard. No hesitation, no nothing—you’d have been proud of him!”
