danger was apprehended from the temper of the men; and it was thought
that an officer like Nelson was the one, not indeed to terrorise the crew into
base subjection, but to win them by force of his mere presence back to an
allegiance, if not as enthusiastic as his own, yet as true. So it was, that for
a time on more than one quarter-deck anxiety did exist. At sea precautionary
vigilance was strained against relapse. At short notice an engagement might come
on. When it did, the lieutenants assigned to batteries felt it incumbent on them
in some instances to stand with drawn swords behind the men working the guns.
    But on board the seventy-four in which Billy now swung his hammock very
little in the manner of the men and nothing obvious in the demeanour of the
officers would have suggested to an ordinary observer that the Great Mutiny was
a recent event. In their general bearing and conduct the commissioned officers
of a warship naturally take their tone from the commander, that is if he have
that ascendency of character that ought to be his.
    Captain the Honourable Edward Fairfax Vere, to give his full title, was a
bachelor of forty or thereabouts, a sailor of distinction, even in a time
prolific of renowned seamen. Though allied to the higher nobility, his
advancement had not been altogether owing to influences connected with that
circumstance. He had seen much service, been in various engagements, always
acquitting himself as an officer mindful of the welfare of his men, but never
tolerating an infraction of discipline; thoroughly versed in the science of his
profession, and intrepid to the verge of temerity, though never injudiciously
so. For his gallantry in the West Indian waters as flag-lieutenant under Rodney
in that admiral's crowning victory over De Grasse, he was made a post-captain.
    Ashore in the garb of a civilian, scarce anyone would have taken him for a
sailor, more especially that he never garnished unprofessional talk with
nautical terms, and grave in his bearing, evinced little appreciation of mere
humour. It was not out of keeping with these traits that on a passage when
nothing demanded his paramount action, he was the most undemonstrative of men.
Any landsman observing this gentleman, not conspicuous by his stature and
wearing no pronounced insignia, emerging from his retreat to the open deck, and
noting the silent deference of the officers retiring to leeward, might have
taken him for the King's guest, a civilian aboard the King's ship, some highly
honourable discreet envoy on his way to an important post. But, in fact, this