Do not fret, Dabbsahib. Mr. Gadds-Addison thoroughly enjoyed his scurvy tablet, which arrived in the form of a cask of grog. What's more, the citrus component came from Australia, so all thought of hopping was banished. Or at least inclusive. In fact, when I last saw Mr. G-A, he said: "Mr. Gadds-Addison, that's rather formal for the 21st century don't you think, old chap? You may call me Rear-Admiral Gadds-Addison." I am replete.
Don't ask. Mine's the one with the cask.