"Really? That'd do it?" Lewrie marvelled, though there was the dread that Pridemore was a Purser, a skillful man of Business and Trade after all, and undertook nothing without a scheme to "get cheap, then sell dear." Pursers were not called "Nip Cheeses" for nothing!

"Do it admirably, sir," Pridemore assured him. "And, whilst we are at it, I believe the Russian gentlemen gifted you with nigh half a bargeload of dainties and luxury goods? Should you wish to dispose of some of them, and save yourself the carting fee to the London market, where you are certain to be 'scalped,' I assure you, Captain, for I am a veteran, and a victim, of sharp practices in the city."

"Not a big market for Roosky vodka, Mister Pridemore," Lewrie said, now sure that he might be being "scalped" on his own quarterdeck, "nor for caviar and pate in Sheerness, I'd think, though. And, there is some of it I'd like to haul along home."

"But of course, sir!" Pridemore said with a little laugh, "for so would I. The bulk of it, though, I could purchase from you."

"With the bill of sale, though…," Lewrie said, reminded by the word bulk, as in "breaking bulk cargo"; unlawful for a warship to do aboard a ship made prize, and the penalty for landing captured goods. "There are the King's Custom Duties to be paid. Do you undertake to pay them, once the goods are transferred to your possession, and note such in your bill of sale… "

Did I just pinch his testicles? Lewrie had to wonder, to see a brief wince twitch Pridemore's face.

"But, of course, sir, it shall be as you say," Pridemore agreed.

"Let's go below and sort it all out, then," Lewrie suggested, "and have my clerk, Georges, draw up the paperwork, with copies to all before I depart."