Captain McCrenshaw is looking out over the horizon with faraway eyes and a grim expression on his face when he hears the commotion.
"Mr. Arfaliunium, this ain't gonna be...a common occurrence, I hope? Ships're made o' wood, ye know, an' wood burns. D'ye think y' could at least fireproof yer cabin, if y'r gonna carry on with these...eh...experiments?" he asks, with a momentary flash of good humor.
The Hullish coastline is rapidly fading behind, and the sun rapdly fading ahead of you, when Captain McCrenshaw turns and addresses Mr. Lang.
"Mr. Lang, call the men aft fer th' division o' watches," he says commandingly.
Soon, the crew is arrayed at the quarterdeck, with the Captain McCrenshaw standing imposingly at the rail.
"Well, men, we're finally away from shore," he says. "And away from thet nasty mess wi' them runners. Ye all know thet them six crew're gone - canchinged away. I collected some replacements over in th' city. Th' big man over there is Vemuz Thrice-born, our new bosun. I'd advise y' not t' trifle wi' him - I've seen 'im split a man from neck t' groin in one blow. Our new pilot, here, is Malthas Swifthand - a bit on th' short side, but an excellent seaman and a perilous fighter, at thet. His handsome-lookin' friend over thetways - " he points to Malachi in all his witch-doctorly glory " - is our new navigator, Mr. Legba, an' a priest o' Calypso at thet, may She guide our ship. The other short one is Bimzoole Marper, short of height but long o' wit, an' he's our new Master Gunner. I want all o' ye t' be gunners trained an' true by next week. Th' sunburnt one goes by th' name...Jonah. But, afterall, what's in a name? He's our supercargo...an' he'll be a real tar, too, afore this voyage's over. His exotic-lookin' companion is Miss Silvershell - Xanaphia Silvershell. She'll be yer surgeon, an' I hev it on good authority thet there's none better. An' th' helpful bearded one here is Mr. Arfaliunium - the Ship's Mage. Mr. Lang, Mr. Ames, y' can divide th' watches now. Mr. Lang has Starboard watch, Mr. Ames has Port watch."
Mr. Lang steps forward.
"Ben Stern. John Stout. Arthur Orville. Lupe Sanchez. Mr. Thrice-born. Mr. Marper. You are my watch; we take first watch tonight," he says.
Vemuz, you survey your watch. You know Bimzoole - the gnome that roasted the runner's nest. Ben Stern and John Stout look like honest enough seamen, stout and bold, but respectful of authority. Lupe Sanchez is a slim, dark Espirantish man who moves like a cat. There is a certain shiftiness about his manner, like he was ready to spring at any moment, but didn't want anyone to know. Arthur Orville is man who you had noticed earlier in the rigging. There is a laziness about his manner, sloppiness that has no place aboard a well-run vessel.
As for your Watch Officer, he seems a bit rigid and formal for your taste. He is, you suspect, a product of Navy discipline.
(OOC: The boatswain's whistle cost you 15 gp. The list price is 150 gp, but I thought that ridiculous as that would be six month's pay. So it's 15 gp.)
Mr. Ames then steps forward.
"Luc d'Erville. Lem Harvey. Jean Orleau. Ishmael Jamison. Mr. Arfaliunium. Mr. Swifthand. We take second watch tonight."
"Mr. Swifthand, to let y'know, John Stout'll be yer relief pilot. If yer feelin' tired, call him up, tell 'im th' course, an' 'ell steer so y'can get some sleep," Captain McCrenshaw says to you as you stand at the wheel, listening to the officers dividing up the watches.
(OOC All: Note that the Surgeon, the Supercargo, and the Navigator do not stand regular watches unless many seaman are ill or injured, as their duties are quite different from a common tar's.
Also, Jonah, I hate to do this, but since you don't have any ranks in Profession Sailor, I'm afraid you'll have to make a Fort. save against seasickness (DC 20).)
He has his sextant and other gear secured and grins happily at the prospect of once more being at sea.
