Vemuz,
Ben Stern, the crew's nominal chanty-man and commonly accepted as the best seaman aboard comes down from the rigging, having completed the overhaul of a frayed clewline on the maintopgallant sail.
"Beg pardon, sir, but there's some chafin' on the lee maintopgallant brace that'll need some seein' to, an' if y' don't mind my sayin' so the shrouds on all three masts seem a bit slack t' me."
He grins at the Orcs, who are looking distinctly "green at the gills."
"What cheer, mates," he says easily. "If you're goin' t' be chummin' fer the sharks, be good fellows an' do it over the lee rail, would ye? Now then, 'bout this here foretopsail halyard, the one who belayed this must be all thumbs, beggin' pardon. Here, loose thet an' tail on, we've got t' sweat it up a little."
He pulls the pin out of its hole, releasing the tangled knot, and the three Orcs who had command of the foretopsail halyard "tally on" to the fall.
"My name it is Dan-Dan...
Heave![/I]
A sailorman I am...
Heave![/I]
Somebody took my rum...
Heave
Thet no-good son-of-a-gun
Heave!"
The foretopsail yard slowly returns to its proper perch, and Stern sets about instructing the Orcs in the proper way of belaying a line.
"Now, then, mates, ye do it like this...well, damn my eyes, how d'yer expect me t' teach ye when ye're all at th' lee rail? Alright, finished chummin' fer sharks, eh? Right, then, ye take the line, an' ye put over the pin, under the pin, make a loop, slip thet over th' pin, an'...oh, Davy Jones take yer, the sea ain't thet bad; give thet poor lee rail a rest, will yer? Now, coil the fall like so..."
Now that the GRACE is feeling the first heave of the ocean swell, the remaining Orcs line up at the lee rail and almost to a man commence "chummin' fer sharks."
The few not struck by seasickness gather in a small knot abaft the foremast. Their old slave instincts take hold, upon hearing you are not pleased with their knot-tying, and some cower as though they expect to be beaten.
They are relieved to find they are not, although a few surreptiously massage their fingers, having been made to retie lines three or even four times. Finally, though, they seem to be getting the hang of it, and a pair of Orcs, lithe and darker-skinned and not as bulky as the others, take it upon themselves to inspect the remaining hitches, correcting mistakes they find without resorting to your instruction.
Malachi,
"Aye, y' can go below," the Captain says amiably. “Why don’t y’ set our course, while ye’re down with yer charts, Mr. Legba.”
(OOC: Profession: Navigator check to set the proper course, please…)
He appears much more at ease on this voyage than he had on the start from Hull on the previous voyage. Perhaps this could be attributed partially to your solving his manpower problems.
As you go below, you catch a glimpse of Vemuz, barking orders in true boatswain style, at a small knot of Orcs, herding them from belaying pin to belaying pin; under his beady eye the Orcs tie and then retie the hitches in the lines.
The greater number of Orcs, however, far from learning the correct way of tying a belaying-hitch, are lined up at the lee rail, giving up their offerings to the gods of seasickness.
Nicodemus,
As you sit in your cabin and work with your mysterious substances (the sailors giving your quarters a very wide berth), you hear a knock at the door.
Malthas,
You hear Vemuz barking orders up forward, by the foremast, there is flurry of activity among the Orcs, and then you feel the GRACE easy back into her usual gentle, rolling motion, no longer fighting the hand on her helm. It appears as though the boatswain has corrected the problem, whatever it was.
