Wake on the boat to discover our wee mutineer has not in fact frozen to death on deck, but all five kids are still determined to reach shore as soon as possible. We breakfast on a fry-up (or in my case a fried egg) and bring Bowen's interior to some semblence of order in time to see the Western Isles entering Loch Scresort with the rest of our party aboard. No chance of getting this lot back out to sea now.