It did not help Lt. Urquhart's efforts that Lewrie's two cats, a stout black-and-white one named Toulon (and where had that odd name come from? he wondered) and a mostly white younger one named Chalky (much more obvious, that'un), had come trotting to the desk in the day-cabin from the transom settee where they had been sunning themselves, and had discovered that they simply adored the new First Officer, the scent of his fresh-blacked Hessian boots, the leather scabbard of his sword, the tails of his uniform coat, then the suitability of his lap! From whence they had explored his coat lapels, shirt collar, and neck-stock, and had even gone so far as to nuzzle and paw at his hair!

Lt. Urquhart, it was sad to say, was a huntin' dog man, and had no use for cats, except for killing stable rats.

"We're fresh from the graving clocks, and expect the barges and water hoys alongside this morning, Mister Urquhart," Capt. Lewrie had concluded, rising to his feet to most charitably walk Urquhart to the exit door, which had required Urquhart to rise as well, giving him a chance to peel the two wee beasts off- gently, rather than following his instinct to seize them by their scruffs and hurl them from one end of the great-cabins to the other. "I expect you'll be hard-pressed to see all loaded by sunset. We've a well-drilled and experienced crew, so the work should go orderly, and your fellow officers, whom I expect you'll soon meet, know what they're about, so it shouldn't be all that demanding, really. Welcome aboard, and I'm looking forward to having you as First Officer, sir."

Well, it hadn't gone that smoothly. Urquhart suspected that he was on trial by every leery Man-Jack, Midshipman, and officer. Everybody had seemed to suffer from sudden ignorance of ropes, blocks, and such, requiring him to see to everything. The "test," if testing it was, had felt more tongue-in-cheek than mutely insubordinate, and Lt. Urquhart had swallowed his spleen and patiently endured it… mostly.