The wind awakened Alice just as the clock struck three. Or perhaps the clock woke her and then she heard the wind. Either way, it felt good to lie in the semi-darkness, cuddled warmly against Sir Horace. The gas flames of the asbestos hearth made flickering shadows on the walls and ceiling. Alice watched them dreamily, enjoying the sensation of peace and safety.

Horace coughed and she thought he was wakening. But he laid his arm over her shoulder and seemed to fall deeply asleep again. Suddenly, the calm dark was interrupted by the shouts of passing revelers in the street outside. Alice felt the admiral stir.

"Is it eight bells?" he asked sleepily.

"What is that? Eight bells?"

"Four o'clock. Change of watch."

"Oh. No, it's three. Or a little after," Alice explained.

"So late!" Horace rose on his arm and looked about the room. "I'm sorry, girl. Never meant to sleep this long. I'll have to take you to that cinematographic show some other time."

"It's all right, Horace, I slept too." Alice smiled in the warm darkness. "It was ever so nice to be at your side. I liked it very much," she added shyly.

"If I'd had you at sea with me, I'd have slept a hell of a lot better." He laughed. "Or maybe not at all."

"Do you miss it, Horace?"

"The sea? Yes. It's frightening and beautiful. Bigger than you can imagine. There's a freedom I can't really describe. And a tight discipline. A man depends on his crew. They depend on him." He fell silent for a long while and Alice thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep again. But at length he continued. "It's never quiet you know. Doesn't matter what kind of ship you're on. The rigging's always creaking on a sailing ship. You can hear the waves and the wind. The men shouting or singing."

"Really? Do the sailors sing?" Alice was surprised.

"Well, they used to. Sea shanties. There were different kinds for different work. Halyard shanties, capstan shanties, short-drag and forecastle shanties. There's some for hauling ropes, others for turning winches or heaving the anchor. Forecastle shanties were for when the work was done and the men could rest on deck. It's all different now. On an ironclad it’s the machinery that sings, not the men."

"Could you sing me one?" she asked eagerly.

"Not sure I remember. It's been awhile, you know," he added apologetically. "I'll try though. This one's for breaking anchor." He cleared his throat and began to sing, "

Yeo, heave ho!
Round the capstan go.
Heave, men with a will, tramp and tramp it still.
The anchor must be weighed, the anchor must be weighed!
Yeo, heave ho!"

Alice clapped her hands. "That was wonderful. How long would you stay out?"

"Months sometimes, depending on the station assignment. Not so long in local waters." He stretched and yawned. "You know what the first thing is you smell when you're fresh from the sea? Horses! London stinks of them. You don't notice it after you've been ashore awhile. I suppose the automobile will change all that. Petrol is a clean smell by comparison."

"Clean?" Alice wrinkled her nose. "It doesn't smell any better to me than horses. Just different."

Horace laughed. "So you're a country lass at heart?"

"Oh, no. I've never been to the country."

"What? Never?"

"No. I've not been out of London. There's been no reason to."

"My poor dear." He kissed her forehead gently. "We'll have to see what can be done about that. I'd like to take you on holiday somewhere."

"Could we go to the seaside? That would be something like!"

"Something like what?"

"Just… something like! It would be wonderful." She rested her head on his chest. "I always dreamed of seeing things. Like the sea. At the orphanage, we all hoped we'd get a family that would take us to the country with them. Maybe even to Scotland! But matron said there's more work to do in the country and no chance of vails for the underservants. Only for the ladies' maids. Like when some gentleman wants tipped off where his particular is sleeping. The footmen get nothing because if there should be something to fetch or a message to carry, stands to reason one of the grooms would go."

"Maids don’t get tipped in the City, do they?"

"Oh no. A lady's maid might, if her lady is flirtatious like. The footmen do, of course. Running errands and such. But at least in town there's the shops and that."

He frowned slightly. "'And that'? Alice, Mr. Niall can't be teaching you to speak in that fashion. Is he?"

"No," she replied in a mortified voice.

"There, there. I'm sure you're trying." He pulled her into his arms and patted her reassuringly. After awhile he sighed heavily. "Well, my dear, it's very late. I ought to be going."

"Must you?" she asked wistfully. "Couldn't you stay awhile and tell me more about being in the Navy?"

"I ought to go."

"It's very cold out." She slipped her hand under his back. "But it's warm here, with me."

Horace smiled, touched by her obvious desire for him to remain. "I suppose there's no point in having a wardrobe here unless I use it."

"Good. Kinver can dress you in the morning. And I'll pour your coffee! But now you can tell me, if you please, what it's like to sail all the way to China." She settled in at his side, happily tucking the blankets over his shoulder. "This is ever so nice."

"Yes," he replied. "Yes, it is."