To the memory of

Captain Frederick Marryat,

Royal Navy

(1792-1848)

a veteran of the Napoleonic Wars, a wry wit, and the man who started

the genre of nautical fiction… with both high adventure and humour!

Law is a bottomless pit.

John Arbuthnot (1667-1735),

The History of John Dull, 1712

Alexander Iden (to Jack Cade):

How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.

Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee!

And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,

So -wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell!

Hence will I drag thee head long by the heels

Unto a dung hill, which shall be thy grave.

And there cut off thy most ungracious head,

Which I will bear in triumph to the King,

Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.

William Shakespeare,

The Second Part of King Henry VI

Act IV, Scene X

Captain Alan Lewrie, RN, stepped out of the doors of the George Inn, just as the watch bells of a myriad of warships and merchant vessels in Portsmouth Harbour began to chime the end of the Morning Watch-Eight Bells, and the start of the Forenoon-in a distant, jangly ting-tinging much like what a rider near London might hear from church bells of a Sunday morning.

Not exactly a sound to set one's pocket-watch by, that chiming, for each ship depended on the turning of sand-glasses to measure hours and half hours, quarter hours for the Dog Watches, the initial turning of the glasses dependent on the vagaries of masters' and captains' time pieces, all of varying quality, accuracy, and cost.

Lewrie unconsciously drew his watch from a waist-coat pocket and found the time to be two and a half minutes past 8 a.m. Then he, as half a dozen other officers nearby did, put it to his ear to see if it was still ticking strongly. One much older Post-Captain growled under his breath, gave his a hard shake, and damned its maker with a muttered "Christ… bloody cogs!" before stalking off.