‘I assume this is yours?’ he asked her, referring to the bag. Having donned the nightshirt but still holding the covers up to her chin, she nodded... staring at him in amazement. ‘You’re the captain of this ship?’ she asked him. ‘Yes, I am. Welcome to the Aurora.’ There was another knock at the door. A sailor entered carrying a tray with a bowl of stew. The smell immediately set her mouth watering. ‘Thank you Simpson,’ Drake said taking the tray from the man. ‘This is for you,’ he said. He held out a hand, calloused as if he had grown up swinging a pickaxe."Hi, I'm Mortimer Crippen, but folks generally call me Mort or Cripps. Do I call you Des or Dave?" Des will do fine ... err ... Mort."He pointed to a chair "Sit ye down, unless you would like to stretch out on the couch?" His accent was broad Norfolk; a dialect which a makes me giggle when I hear it, not as much as a Brummie accent makes me laugh but near enough. "The chair will do fine," I said and sat. He plonked himself. More

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