"Enter!"

The senior official ducked under the overhead deck beams as he clumped aft to Lewrie's desk. "The mustering-out is done, sir."

"Very well, Mister Harper," Lewrie said, taking a peek at the face of his pocket-watch just as One Bell of the Day Watch was struck up forrud at the belfry. "Coffee with a splash of brandy?"

"That'd be most welcome, sir, welcome indeed," Harper said with joy, rubbing chilled hands together in anticipation. No matter those modern Franklin-pattern stoves, a few feet away from them and the cold belowdecks could be a damp misery.

"Pettus, a laced coffee for Mister Harper, then pass word to the First Lieutenant," Lewrie instructed. "He is to have 'All Hands' piped, then 'Clear Decks and Up-Spirits.' The Purser's parsimony bedamned," he added with a grin.

"Aye, sir."

"This damnable peace with the Frogs won't last," Harper griped after a deep sip and an appreciative sigh.

"Not above a year," Lewrie sourly agreed. "The only reason Bonaparte asked for peace was to re-gather his forces, build up his Navy again, after the way we've savaged it since Ninety-Three."

"Perhaps two years, Captain Lewrie," Harper countered. "After all, he's a lot of building, and re-building, to do, and a proper navy is like Rome… not built in a single day."

"Aye, two years, then," Lewrie gloomed. "Refit what he already has and get them to sea in early Spring… drill and train their officers and sailors at sea, for a change, 'stead of harbour drill. Send squadrons round the world to re-claim all the colonies we've conquered so far. I haven't seen a newspaper, yet, regarding what we are to surrender to them. Have you?

"Nothing official yet, no," Mr. Harper admitted. "Though I am sure we must restore all French West Indies islands, Cape Town and all that to the Dutch… the Guyanas in South America, too. Lord, when the war erupts, we'll have to do it all over again. Senseless! Plain senseless!"