Dawn over England was beautiful. Fitzwilliam had to admit that, he missed the mist rising over the buildings, the cool white rays of sunshine. His tea had long since gotten cold. The ship was quiet. Most of the crew had gone ashore and likely passed out drunk there. What crew they had, at least. He didn’t mind in the least. It was nice to be able to just sit on a barrel and drink tea and wait.
He looked over to see Nathan coming up from below deck. “Good morning.” he called to him in a clear voice.