[Alfred has reclaimed part of his meal only to nibble it some then put it down again. He feels as if he may or may not regret speaking to Blanc of these matters. It is personal in the respect that it refers to Alfred Newendyke, not to Monsieur Orange, but Lawrence wouldn't know that. How unfair and cruel you are, Newendyke. No, Holdaway would say this man would not return the favor. Oh but he would for such is the trust I've cultivated.]

My grandfather taught me to shoot fowl when I was a boy but I found the game poorly matched against our superior weaponry. It wasn't unlike shooting fish in a barrel. I insisted we seek out fairer game, even a buck would do. Once in colder country we chanced upon a very large bear and I daresay after that experience I chose not to take up such bigger game ever again. But it whet my appetite for the challenge, only preferably in another form.

[And up again to his mouth. He finishes the meaty morsel, looking somewhat disappointed in himself that his story did not have a more adventurous ending like the stories of the crew aboard the Fantastick or Lord Iron.]