Food held no interest for him—though he forced himself to eat something. The rest of the lieutenants were not stirring when he left the wardroom. He took the stairs three at a time in his hurry to arrive on the quarterdeck. The crew on the morning watch had just started washing and holystoning the decks, polishing the brightwork, and flemishing any loose lines—activities Ned rarely witnessed, as on a typical day he was not required to be on deck for two more hours. But this was no typical day. Today, the open sea beckoned and Alexandra would answer. The indigo sky became gray on the eastern horizon. When three bells marked five thirty in the morning, all of the other lieutenants joined him on deck. At six o’clock, the time chosen by William as the most advantageous for wind and tide, Commodore Ransome appeared, accompanied by his wife. Ned saluted Mrs. Ransome, who graced him with a beautiful, if somewhat tired-looking, smile. At a nod from William, she ascended the steps to the poop deck, from whence she would have a good overview of the activity of weighing anchor and getting under sail.
