"Hungry? In this weather, sir?" Lewrie said with a gawp.

"Well… aye, sir," Eades admitted. "With the galley shut down… didn't everyone?"

"The ship's rats and Mister Eades own constitutions are of much the same nature, sir," Lt. Farley japed. "They can eat anything, at any time, with no ill effects."

"No sense in drowning hungry," Lt. Eades said with a shrug. "I do, though, gather that drowning is no longer an immediate threat?"

"Aye, and if the weather continues to moderate, we'll all have hot breakfasts by mid-morning," Lt. Farley told him.

"Good, ho!" was Eades's joy at that news.

Nigh as dense as a mile-post, Lewrie thought, shaking his head in wonder; but he'll do.

HMS Thermopylae continued on her course of West by North, half North 'til dawn and beyond as the winds eased and the seas moderated, slowly adding sail 'til she was making a good six knots. By Two Bells of the Forenoon Watch (9 A.M.) it was judged safe to light the galley fires and serve up a late breakfast for one and all. The low clouds lifted a bit and lightened in colour, and the rain ceased; not that it made much difference belowdecks, for the seams still dribbled water here and there, after all the flexing and strain put on the hull and the planking by the storm. And if Lewrie sat halfway down his dining table, he could find a dry spot to drink several very welcome cups of hot coffee and spoon up hot porridge.

The ship's motion was even steady enough to allow him a shave!

Then, back on deck in clean, dry linen, slop-trousers, and uniform, and feeling human for the first time in days, he could dispense with both furs and tarpaulins, for the temperature was just about warm enough to be stood with his coat doubled over and buttoned.

"Sail ho!" a lookout shouted down to the deck. "Two points off th' larboard bows!" Midshipman Furlow was sent aloft with a glass to report, and moments later he shouted down that she was a cutter, one of theirs to boot, the much-belaboured Osprey.