Rue set the tube down with a whoosh of breath overset by a terrible temptation to give in to wobbly knees and collapse to the deck. But as captain she had no time for such silliness. She turned to Percy. “Everything as ordered, Professor Tunstell?”

Percy blinked at her. “Erm. Yes, captain. A completely seamless hop, as I predicted.”

“Indeed, seamless.” Rue arched an eyebrow at this outrageous statement. She turned to Virgil who was lurking to one side with a group of panting decklings. They’d only just managed to lower the mainsail in time for the hop.

“Deckhands, decklings, everyone still solid? Virgil?”

“Floating pretty, Lady Captain,” said Virgil with a grin. He’d recovered his aplomb with the remarkable speed of the very young. The other decklings only seemed able to nod, awed by what had just occurred.

Rue picked the speaker tube back up.

“What now, chérie?” came Quesnel’s voice, now devoid of accent.

“How’s everything in engineering?”

“Bit of a bumpy ride but we weathered it well and good. Couple of welts and bruises, the odd small burn, nothing requiring Matron. Got us a coal spill to clean up if you could spare any hands from up top?”

It was certainly a good thing no one needed a surgeon as they didn’t have one on board. Rue pointed at the decklings. “You six, report to engineering. Back up here post haste, mind you. We’ll need that sail up again shortly. You two to the crow’s nest – I want eyes on that current. You two stay on deck at alert.”

They sprang to do her bidding. Virgil wandered over.

“Six coming down to you now, Mr Lefoux,” said Rue into the speaker.

“Ta, mon petit chou.” This time Quesnel hung up on her.

Rue replaced the tube and went to attend to her last concern.

“It’s a good thing you started out bossy before you were given command,” Primrose said from where she sat, slightly swallowed by a partly collapsed deck-chair.

“Are you well, Prim?”

“One tea-cup down. But it was empty, thank goodness, so nothing spilled. And the pot’s still warm. Would you like a refresher?”

Rue, feeling all-conquering and victorious, waved a casual hand about her head in what she felt was a field marshal manner. “Just pour it, darling, just pour it.”

When she returned to her seat, however, it was to learn that all the crumpets had overturned to land buttered-side down on the deck. “Why must that always be the case?”

“Laws of the unnatural humours,” sympathised Prim before sending Virgil to Cook for some more. “And lemon curd please this time, not raspberry jam. Lemon is so much better with crumpets, don’t you feel?”

“Indubitably,” replied Rue, sipping her tea.