On deck at last, smudged with tar and slushes, Caroline knelt at his side in a twinkling, to coo and fret, wondering whether Hugh needed cosseting, or another sound thrashing. For foolishness; and for smutting his best suit of clothing, if nothing else.

"M'sieur, pardon!" Sophie reddened. "Ah tak' ma eye off 'eem jus' une moment, et… forgeev, plais."

Hmm, I could use this, Lewrie thought, though wishing to tear a strip off her hide, as he would the merest menial. No, he decided; jape his way out. Tug at her heartstrings. And her remorse.

"A thousand pardons, Captain," Lt. Ralph Knolles said, doffing his hat in concern that he might be found remiss. "I should have assigned a hand to shepherd the lads. A topman, it appears."

"A topman, indeed, Mister Knolles." Lewrie grinned. "Damme… he's a little terror, isn't he? Now we know where the next sailor in the family's to come from, hey?"

"Indeed, sir." Knolles smiled in return, with infinite relief.

"Mademoiselle Sophie," Lewrie said, turning to the girl. "Of course, you're forgiven. Nothing to forgive, really. As you become more familiar with us, you'll learn that Hugh will ever be our mischievous little imp. And a prankster. You must watch out for that, so he doesn't use you ill, as boys are wont to do-with sisters. From Sewallis, well… he's the quiet sort. I'm hoping you'll be a civilizing influence upon Hugh. And an edifying one 'pon Sewallis. As one more beloved member of our house. Dear as an elder sister."

"Merci, m'sieur," Sophie replied meekly, all but chewing her lip in contriteness.

"Well, then…" Lewrie concluded heartily. "My dear, perhaps we should bundle everyone into the buoy-tender before Hugh discovers the powder room, and erects a sand castle out of cartridges."