Pearce was on the deck, pacing back and forth, having attended Divine Service, really just a homily produced by the ship’s captain. Several of the recovering wounded, now including those who had suffered in the recent storm, had either come or been brought up to enjoy the air and, given they were sailing easy on that breeze, the crew were occupied in making, mending and prettying themselves for a hoped-for run ashore in Gibraltar.Michael, Rufus and Charlie were with some of the Hinslip’s crew, jawing away while they tended to each others’ pigtails, the sight of which, even if they had become familiar on the heads of his fellow Pelicans, made Pearce stop and think. He could not recall their growing to the length they had: these standard accoutrements of the British tar had just seemed to appear naturally, but it did force upon him an unwanted thought – what in the name of the devil were they all going to do once they got back to England? Michael could go back to his old life of digging ditches and foundations for the spate of speculative building which afflicted the capital city.
