"Arr. It do be look'n like our hand is be'n forced. I do not like it at all. But, if we be forced to wade into that, a cautious approach be best." The old man reaches into his coat to produce a small collection of what appear to be bones. Finger bones? Chicken bones? It is hard to tell. "Best to be sure to be what we fac'n." Then Col chants a few dark sounding words and cast the bones onto the pier.
OOC: omen of peril. Col wants to know how bad things are going to be if they rush onto the boat (which appears to be their only course of action currently).