"The Sou'wester gale blew us further North than we had thought," Lt. Langlie gayly opined, nodding his head sagaciously. "If we wish to round the Lizard, not put into the Bristol Channel…"

"Captain, sir," Mr. Winwood ponderously stated, drawing himself fully erect, "in my humble opinion, we should shape a course abeam the Westerlies, 'til we may take a second sounding, towards evening."

"Due South," Lewrie replied, nodding himself. "So there's not a risk of grounding either on the Scillies or the Lizard. Who knows? By dawn, and a clearer sky, your tables will give us the time of sunrise t' go by. With any luck at all, the weather will clear enough for the sun's height at Noon Sights!"

"Just so, Captain," Winwood agreed, with a slight bow.

"Then we won't have to embarrass ourselves by speaking the very first ship we see," Lewrie japed, "and hoisting 'Hold Church Service,' 'Location,' and 'Interrogative' flags."

"Sir?" Mr. Midshipman Gamble dared ask, at last, with a look of a young man ready to be amused by his captain's wit, willing to be the goat who supplied the rhetorical question if the others wouldn't, but not exactly sure where his superior's jest was going.

"Stands for 'Oh God, Where Am I?,' Mister Gamble," Lewrie quipped with a wry chuckle. "Very well, Mister Langlie. Secure the sounding gear, get our frozen sailors in-board, and Aspinall?" he bade the lad, who still hovered nearby in his heavy wool-frieze boat, with his white apron dangling below its hem. "A cup o' hot coffee for all who assisted the Sailing Master. Hands to the braces, and make her course Due South, Mister Langlie. Wear her about."