"Bread and circuses," his father, Sir Hugo, griped sotto voce as a servant took his hat, cloak, and walking stick. "Bad as a Roman raree show, I swear. Necessary, I s'pose, but… what flummery."

"Bloody Hell!" Lewrie exclaimed, dignity and serene confidence bedamned, as he turned over his own hat and cloak, and caught sight of a bevy of Navy men waiting for him with bright eyes and smiles. "How the Devil did they dredge you up? Just damn my eyes!"

For there stood officers and men from old HMS Proteus, those who had turned over into his latest ship, the Savage frigate, and had been there off Portland Bight the night of his "crime"-Lt. Adair, his former Second Officer; Lt. D'arcy Gamble, Third into Savage, then a Midshipman; Sailing Master Mr. Winwood; Midshipman Grace, even Coote, the Purser; along with all seven surviving sailors of the dozen he'd absconded with! The only man missing was Anthony Langlie, then First Officer of Proteus, and now Commander Langlie, and in command of HMS Orpheus, a brig-sloop of his own.

"Savage put into Torbay to re-victual on the Second, sir," Lt. Adair gleefully explained as he pumped Lewrie's "paw" in joy, "and up pops an order from Lord Saint Vincent, aboard the flag, before we got the kedge anchor down. Captain Wolters wasn't keen on it, but, here we all are, sir, ready to testify on your behalf. No delay, really, with the weather foul in the Channel, and at least a fortnight's work to put the ship right."

"Gentlemen… lads, I'm damned glad t'see ye, damned glad… and not just for your testimony, hey?" Lewrie enthused, shaking hands with one and all. "Dry, read affidavits are one thing, but your tales in your own words'll be quite another, my barrister tells me. You've met my father, before? And, here comes Desmond, Furfy, Aspinall, and Jones Nelson. Old Boys' Week, ha ha!"