"As a matter of fact, Desmond, Pettus here just told he that he plans to 'swallow the anchor' and take civilian domestic service back in Portsmouth, so I do have need of a man," Lewrie told him. "As for Furfy, though… "

Desmond swelled with happy anticipation, though he got a frown on his face when Lewrie mentioned his mate.

"You're good with horses, Furfy? With all manner of beasts?"

"Wi' me Mam's pigs an' chickens, sor," Furfy piped up, almost pleading to convince him, sharing a worried look with Desmond that he might be separated from him. "An' me first job o' work when I was but a lad was stableman, Cap'm sor. Nursed many a horse, colt, calf, or lamb through th' bad patches, sor, an', ah… " Furfy swallowed loudly, as if he'd lose Desmond, the one mate who looked after him.

"Th' critters follow 'im round loik a Noah, sor, so they do," Desmond stuck in quickly, "don't they, Pat? An' even fightin' dogs go puppy-sweet on 'im."

"Better a stableman I already know than one I'd hire blind back in Anglesgreen," Lewrie decided, relenting with a smile. "So be it, me lads. After all, somebody has t'keep an eye out for Furfy, and keep him in mid-channel. You've done the work before, when we coached to Yarmouth t'join. Well, we're off to London again for a few days at the Madeira Club, then down to Surrey. I trust that Anglesgreen won't be too rustic for you? It's a small and quiet place. Only the two taverns, the last I know of it, and I'm not welcome in one of em."

"They've a good local ale, sor?" Furfy asked.

"A hellish-good ale, Furfy," Lewrie assured him.

"Fine with us, sor," Desmond exclaimed, sealing the bargain.

Barely had Desmond and Furfy turned to go when there came another rap outside his door. "Mister Harper, from the Port Admiral's office, t'see the Cap'm, sir!"