Rum, Sodomy and the Lash

My time of late is precious and I have little of it to spend afloat, what with my Aviating commitments. I have not even been able to lurk the tents and steal egregiously from the barbecue at the Corrie at the Pimms-fest that Cowes has become..(Fowey week - much nicer)

This has caused grief among the Regular Crew.

'Oh Captain, you are leaving us!' cries one of my lesser spotted and rarer crew members. (Dulux, as it happens - why is she called Dulux? You know that dog in the paint adverts....?)

Even more remarkable was Scotty the Engineer promising me the earth:
'We will all line up and salute you, and wear matching uniforms with the boat name on them for you! And call you Captain all the time...'

Gloria Stitts even weighed into the debate:
'Oh will you hoist your pennant on our boat?'

How can I refuse such offers?

My message to you all is: Fear not, most loyal, desperate and misguided crew - we shall cruise the waters of the chops of the channel and harry the enemy shipping again - and I shall hoist my pennant aboard.

My fee - the usual. First go in the barrel and a double ration of salt horse.

Assistant Heads wiper fourth class reporting for duty, sah!