"Boys, boys," he said, sighing as he knelt before their hat-box lair; Toulon taking up most of it. "I expect such from Chalky, he's a new-come, but I thought you knew better, Toulon. Settle down to sleep like cats're supposed to, can't you?"
Some eagerly received pets and strokes, and they did curl up in a furry heap, Chalky the kitten swarming over Toulon to cuddle and lick his elder's head, which prompted grooming licks in return from his partner in crime…and how they'd come to such a close, mischievous companionship so quickly, Lewrie couldn't fathom; though it beat the first few days' slanging matches and hostilities all hollow, he could gladly admit to himself as he clambered back into bed and settled his sheet.
Thumps and grunts, slaps and high-toned trills, and deep meows. Then the hat-box was overset and a new romp was on, paws thundering on the canvas deck-cover, from the transom settee to the gun-deck door.
"Gawd," Lewrie implored the night and the overhead deck beams as he pummeled his pillows. "Give me patience…"