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the storm, the captain seemed shaken, and kept mentioning a newborn grandson he had yet to meet. Retirement seemed his future.
    So what would Jack’s be?
    “I may not have your faith, Mr. Fletcher, but then I have never had the same love of this ship that you do,” Whigby said, seemingly nonchalant.
    One, from afar, might think that Whigby had no sentimentality in his soul, but Jack knew better.
    “How could you not?” Jack asked jovially, playing his role in the argument they loved to have. “She’s a beauty down to her bones.”
    “Her leaky bones.”
    “A little water is…
    “…good for a navy man! Keeps him fresh.” They finished together, quoting Captain Healy and one of his favorite sayings.
    “Come on Jack, she’s creaky and small.”
    “She’s light and fast.”
    “I can name a hundred ships that are better than this one,” Whigby declared.
    “Really. You can name a hundred ships?” Jackson’s eyebrow went up.
    “I can.” Whigby boasted, his chest puffing out.
    “A hundred ships that have done you a better turn than the
Amorata
?” Jackson smiled. “You, who felt to your knees, crying in joy, when you managed to secure your post?”
    “I was never worried about securing my post! I passed the lieutenant’s exam well enough.” Whigby smiled.
    “I passed the lieutenant’s exam with top marks, and I was damn glad to get to stay on this ship.”
    “That’s only because you don’t have—” But Whigby stopped himself, hesitant.
    “It’s all right, Mr. Whigby. I’m all too aware that my well-connectedfriends are few, and even then, have no influence with the Royal Navy.”
    “And I do,” Whigby said quietly. “Jack,” Whigby said, dropping the formalities that ruled on board. “I want you to know that if I get the opportunity, I’ll speak well of you to my uncle. Surely finding a position cannot be as terrible as we’ve heard. It seems absurd! After all, I’ve already—”
    Jack looked up at Whigby with slight shock in his eyes. Whigby had the grace to look down at his shoes, somewhat ashamed.
    “I … the mail frigate that met us at the mouth of the river? It had a letter for me from my uncle. I’m to report to the
Dresden
when it makes berth in two months.”
    Jack felt the deck shift beneath him, and this time, it could not be attributed to the sea.
    Of course. Thanks to his uncle, Whigby, who was second lieutenant under him and had two years less experience, was to be assigned a berth on a first-class ship of the line. Whigby wasn’t going to have to live in the queasy dread of limbo, waiting to hear if the
Amorata
would sail again. Whigby wasn’t going to face the horrible proposition of signing the affidavit quarterly, going on half pay. Unable to seek work outside of the navy without giving up that meager income, and unable, without a miracle, to receive work inside of it. Jack wanted to growl in frustration.
    Instead of giving lease to that impulse, Jack shook off the gray cloud of worry that had overtaken him, and slapped his friend on the back. “I’m just surprised that you gave up on our girl so easily. You’ll have twelve superior officers to report to on the
Dresden.
I doubt they’ll even let you wave me off when the
Amorata
sets sail herself.”
    “I’m sorry, Jack,” Whigby said, nervously picking at his nails. “If it’s any consolation, he made the arrangements without my asking.”
    “Don’t apologize,” he said, watching relief wash over his friend’s face. “After all, it’s not your fault your uncle is a rear admiral who retired with enough metal on his chest to make an eight-inch gun.”
    Whigby laughed at that, the buttons on his somewhat snug uniform waistcoat straining slightly. “I dare say he wouldn’tallow that—it would deprive him of wearing his full dress uniform at any and every opportunity. Church,” he intoned. “Every Sunday.”
    Jack clapped his friend on the shoulder. They stood silent for a moment, listening as, from