John Hopkins

The minister intones a blessing, and then Drake is standing, offering Doughty his hand and pulling him to his feet.

He slings an arm around his shoulders and leads him to the other side of the tent, where a long table has been set up.

Waving Doughty to a chair, Drake pours him a glass of wine before taking one for himself.

Dishes of steaming stew are brought in and set before the men, along with another bottle of wine.

The captain chatters away as they eat, filling the room with talk and laughter, and Doughty finds himself joining in.

Maybe the banter is a little strained, but it is better than the awkward silence he had thought might prevail between them.

Too soon, Doughty's spoon scrapes the bottom of his bowl.

Drake pours the last dregs of wine into his cup, downs the contents, then looks to Doughty, who nods.

It is time.

The two men rise, and Doughty claps Drake on the shoulder, thanking him for the meal.

Then he turns and walks outside, the captain stalking slowly behind.

As they emerge from the tent, a group of sailors carrying heavy wooden clubs flank Doughty, steering him towards a stony expanse on which waits a dark wooden block.

Next to it stands a tall sailor, a wickedly sharp axe held casually in one hand.

Doughty's steps falter, but the men on either side grab his elbows, pushing him inexorably onwards.

Once they reach the block, he is released, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground.

The ship's crews are all assembled.

Whispers carry on the wind, but Doughty cannot hear what they're saying.

He feels a light touch on his arm and sees the chaplain has come to stand beside him.

With trembling fingers, from fear or cold or both, Doughty takes off his cloak and passes it to the chaplain.

He unlaces the collar of his snowy white linen shirt, baring his neck.