Later Sunday evening.

Leat blinked. Well, that explained it well enough; Perry and his damned letter... though he had hardly expected to get the truth out of Oxley so easily - or anyone for that matter. Quinn had made it sound like the Conspiracy of the Year.

"And there was nothing more to it than that? Just a mis-judged leap?"

"I... I think so, sir." He couldn't tell the officer - any officer - about the disagreement that had happened before Miss Emily decided to go and get herself covered in ink. That and the fight... they were lower-deck matters.

Leat raised an eyebrow. Oxley's hesitation had been an answer in itself.

"You think?"

Oh, damn. "None of us made her do it, sir. I swear."

Leat resisted the urge to smile. He recalled the incident not that long ago when Emily had decided to make herself at home on Cross Johnson's red jacket and how his resulting reaction had delighted the Marine corps to the extent that the lieutenant swore she had put on weight for that month. That 'choice' had been nothing to do with any of the men either.

"I think it would prove extremely difficult to force her into doing anything she did not want to, Oxley."

"Yes, sir. She just... jumped up where she oughtn't have." He tried not to shuffle his feet. "Think she was just curious 'bout the new sailor, sir."

"Aren't we all, Oxley?"

He turned to look at the cat, who had paused in another attempt to clean herself to stare accusingly of him. He would have to ask the steward for some hot water...

"Hopefully she has now satisfied her curiosity. Thank you, Oxley. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He remembered to salute before leaving, wondering how he'd managed to get out of the interview without giving anyone away.

And his jacket was buttoned crookedly, which made him groan to himself.