Lewrie's pending legal troubles anent some dozen "stolen" slaves, seven of whom still survived among Savage's crew, which resulted in an equally cautious discussion of the how and the when of the matter. And, whether their captain might remain captain for very much longer, or might be relieved to face trial in London, and where would they be, then?

Lt. Urquhart was struck by how fond the others seemed to feel about Capt. Lewrie, despite the notoriety attached to him, the tracts and pamphlets put out by the Abolitionists, and the lurid accounts in the newspapers. The seeming depth of their feelings went beyond the usual dread of serving under a new captain of unknown abilities, temperament, or aggressiveness that might not be equal to Lewrie's when it came to seeking action, glory, or prize-money. Quite expectedly, they would fear dull, humdrum service or anything that took the gloss off the reputation they had made in HMS Proteus.

Some of it, Urquhart suspected, was the comfort of "old shoes," and "better the devil you know…," along with their rightful pride.

Together so long, Savage's wardroom did not exactly follow the traditional narrow strictures on table conversation, either. Captains and senior officers usually were never discussed, except in the most careful, praiseful way. Their foibles and idiosyncracies, "warts and all," were definitely off-limits, but… Savage's officers knew their captain extremely well by then, and seemed to take a perverse pride in his… weaker moments.

A glass more than he'd planned to imbibe had fuzzled Urquhart's wits just enough to mangle his attempt to quash such improper nattering. It came out as "Well, I dare say that Captain Lewrie has made himself a fair name in the Fleet." Said with a sober face, at least, and with the merest hint that they treaded on taboo territory as his brow furrowed.