“Paint,” said Rue quite primly, “can be covered over. Farts cannot.”

Aggie bristled. “Don’t you argue semantics with me, you prissy––”

Quesnel, trying hard not to laugh, interrupted what looked to be quite the argument. “Very well, captain, I’ll look into correcting the noise, or at least stoppering it over when we’re in grave need.”

Rue nodded. “That’s all I ask. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She glared at Aggie. Prissy. I’ll give you prissy. She pretended to be Mother at her most autocratic – stuck her nose in the air, put her shoulders back, and narrowed her eyes at the horrible female. This seemed to give Aggie some kind of minor apoplectic fit.

“So soon, mon petit chou?” said Quesnel, swooping in to grab Rue’s hand, bending over it gallantly.

“Gladly,” said Aggie at the same time.

Rue returned above deck feeling she had mainly lost that particular conversational battle. But disposed to be pleased that she had at least got what she wanted out of Quesnel.

The second hop didn’t go quite as smoothly as the first. For one thing, it took Percy by surprise. Fortunately, he’d stuck the Mandenall Pudding Probe up and set it to register correctly, but it squirted out the current cross-point a good quarter-hour before he’d calculated it should. Since the crew was relaxing over sustenance at the time, this was rather an upset to everyone.

They were taking tea on the main deck. Primrose had requisitioned deck chairs and small side tables, and Cook had provided them with a large pot of a most excellent Darjeeling blend and some buttery little crumpets with clotted cream and jam.

Prim was playing hostess, outfitted in a black velvet travelling suit with purple swirl detailing – not unlike one of Percy’s aether current maps – and a large purple hat lavishly decorated with silk roses.

Rue had opted to only pack and wear her most military-inspired gowns – she felt this better suited her role as captain. She wore a travelling dress of navy blue with black cord stripes, the jacket featuring prominent gold buttons and a crossover front. It was almost plain and would have given Dama heart palpitations with its severity. Her hat was an oval of navy straw with an up-tilted front and a very large feather spilling over one side which looked pleasingly piratical. The ensemble suited her beautifully, emphasising by contrast her womanly figure and mercurial expressions.

Percy was slurping his tea while reading a book on the micro-fauna of the aetherosphere and the threat inherent in such creatures to the vital humours of chronic aetheric travellers. Percy was a bit of a hypochondriac. His outfit of tweed and mismatched jacket combined with floating goggles and tool strappings was hardly worth mentioning. Although he had stuck a sunflower in his button hole for medicinal purposes.