Another silence, just for a moment, and then Sawyer lets out a faint chuckle.

"Under most any other circumstances, Mr Wellard" -- and the soothing tone is back, suddenly -- "I would suggest that you have a touch of the sun. Or is it something else that ails you so?"

Judging by the way he is studying Wellard, taking in the lad's pale skin and anxious expression and apparent inability to form a coherent thought, he knows perfectly well what might be ailing his young midshipman.