“Clark?” he said again. “Another drink?”

Clark did not answer. Likely because Clark had already had enough and was currently sleeping on the table.

“More!” Griffith called as he downed the rest of his drink. One of the barmaids nodded.

“Excellent service, don’t you think?” Griffith asked Clark. “Very proper procedure,” he couldn’t help but add in a low aside.

Clark snored softly in reply. Not even appreciating Griffith’s wit.

Griffith shrugged, adjusting Clark’s head so he was lying more comfortably. That was one of the secrets behind being a well-respected captain: making certain your crew was taken care of.

He’d taken such good care of Clark that his mate was getting some well-deserved rest. Albeit in a pub, his nose pressed against a wooden table.

He didn’t see the point of being sober either if he was on land, but unfortunately it took a lot for him to get drunk, since he was so large—he towered over everyone on his crew and couldn’t get comfortable below deck. His jackets always felt a bit snug too, since it seemed tailors did not actually believe that a person’s shoulders could be as wide as Griffith’s.

The curse of the Davies family.

The barmaid placed another glass on the worn wooden table in front of him. “You need one for your friend here?” she asked.

Griffith shook his head no and tossed a few coins to her, which she caught handily. “Thank you,” he said as he took a long draught. The porter was fair to middling at best, but it was beer, so that made it all right.

They usually ran out of beer aboard the ship sometime around the second month of the voyage, and this most recent voyage had been over ten months. Too long without alcohol. Or a woman, to be honest.

He did feel slightly fuzzy around the edges, which was good. It also had the benefit of disguising the quality of the alcohol. And the lack of female companionship.

He might’ve attempted some sort of discourse with one of the barmaids, but several ships had docked in London this week, it seemed, so the pub was full to bursting, and the women were scurrying about with no time for flirtation.

And, while he’d engaged in anonymous couplings in the past, he found the idea distasteful now. He wanted something more, although he had no hope of finding more for the short time they were ashore. So he’d resigned himself to looking—discreetly, so as not to cause distress—and consoling himself with beer and sleeping in a bed long enough for him to stretch his entire body out.

That was heaven for him. Even if it was a solitary heaven.

Plus there was Clark to consider—it would be downright rude to leave his first mate here alone. Even if Clark was currently unconscious, so perhaps not the best company.