New watch and fob, new grogram boat cloak, shaggy watch coat, dressing robes for warm or cold weather… it had turned into such an orgy of Spending and Getting! And guilt over his pleasures had driven him to purchase even more, for Caroline, the children, Sophie… even a pair of bosun's pipes for Porter and Cony, to mark the warrants he'd gotten Porter and Bittfield, and the Admiralty's recognition of his own prerogative to promote Will Cony to bosun's mate.

Then, recruiting drove him from their arms, setting up his own rendezvous, printing fliers to summon calf-headed cullys who wished to go to sea, dealing with the local regulating captain of the Impress Service. The dockyard officials, the port admiral… to find the rope and timber to restock Jester with spare topmasts and yards, stuns'l booms, miles of cable and rope, fresh paint, gunner's tools… and the reams of correspondence necessary to beg for permission, to justify any slight alteration that might cost the Crown tuppence! Why, it was so odious, so all-encompassing an endeavor, that he'd been lucky to get a meal ashore with Caroline and…!

"Anchor's hove short, sir. Up and down!" Knolles called Lewrie from his reverie.

"Very well, Mister Knolles. Brace for the heavy heave. Topmen aloft. Free tops'ls only. Spanker, jibs and tops'ls. Inner, outer flying, and fore topmast stays'l from the foc's'le… main topmast staysl and mizzen t'gallant stays'l. Should this perverse wind head us, I don't wish us fighting the square-s'ls all the way aground, on the Isle of Wight. Rough on the quick-work. And the career, hmm?"

"Aye, sir!" Knolles grinned in agreement.

"Wait to ring up or fish the anchors to the catheads, Mister Knolles. Should we get headed, we may have to anchor again, quickly. At the southern end of Saint Helen's Road, for certain, if a clear wind can't be found in the Channel."