But Lotti was wrong. Baby Philip was not fine. From the moment his sister shoved him into Lotti’s arms, his indignation had been growing. Until now, there had been just enough distractions to stop that indignation from tipping into full-blown rage, but now he was alone, and it was dark, and in the dark the dogs were snuffling and he was afraid.

Baby Philip began to whimper. The dogs, who were still baffled by him but had accepted him as one of their own, yipped and whined in sympathy. Baby Philip wailed. The dogs yowled. Their combined cries bounced off the walls of the tunnel like the howls of souls in torment. The children cursed under their breath. Lotti swung off the roof and climbed down to calm them all. As she reached the cabin steps her heart skipped a beat. The half moon of bright daylight at the entrance of the tunnel behind the Sparrowhawk had disappeared, replaced by the soft glow of a boat’s navigation light …

Another boat had entered the tunnel behind them.

Up on the roof, Ben froze. What should he do? He knew that the Sparrowhawk had no right to stop in the tunnel, but he couldn’t move on now! How long did Albert Skinner need to get to the lock at Anfield? And to come back again? If they could only have a few more minutes …

The Sparrowhawk swayed as the other boat drew near. Ben blinked in its approaching light but didn’t move from his position on his back with his feet braced against the tunnel ceiling. The other boat’s engine died down. From below, Ben heard Lotti desperately try to shush the howling baby and the dogs, then …

“Well, blow me down,” said a familiar voice as the other boat came alongside the Sparrowhawk. “If it ain’t our old friends!”

It was a sort of miracle, really. Not only that the other boat should be the Secret Starling, but also that Jim should be so good with babies.

There was no conversation possible while Philip was crying. The Starling pulled up beside the Sparrowhawk, Jim threw her center line up to Ben, hopped aboard and took the sobbing Philip in his arms. With a few practiced bounces and a firm rub of his back, he brought the wailing back to whimpering. With the heel of a loaf fetched by Lotti from the galley, the whimpering turned to slurps. And with a click of Jim’s fingers, the dogs sat, then lay, in a silent heap at his feet.

“Raised a baby myself,” Jim explained, as Lotti looked on with amazed gratitude. “My brother Jack. Comes in useful. You’re gonna have to change him soon, though.”

“I think we’ll just give him back,” said Lotti. “I really don’t want another one.”