"Nonsense," said the steward. "We don't want anything of the sort. After all, someone has to orient the new crew."
"Quite right," said the captain. "You ought to be proud."
The first mate slammed his napkin in the middle of his food and stalked out of the mess hall.
"Quite touchy today," Nestir observed.
"By the way," the third mate said. "Wanda gave me a petition to give to you, Father."
"Wanda?"
"Yes. She's sixteen, now."
"Wanda who?" the steward asked.
"Wanda Miller, the bosun's daughter."