The Rumpled Bedsheet being more or less seaworthy, sails go up again and the boat begins making way for Salty Bill's. Soon you come to Salty Bill's tavern. A rotting hulk that might have been a warship two hundred years ago. It lists about 10 degrees to port and several empty casks have been secured to that side to keep it upright. The sails have been replaced with a couple of canvas bladed fans 10 feet across that catch the wind to power pumps to keep up with the incoming water. Most of the interior of the boat has been removed and replaced with one large room. A few upper cabins remain, presumably as living quarters for the owner. A large bar runs down the side of the room that would look appropriate in any big city tavern, but seems odd in the guts of this perpetually sinking old wreck. The walls are decorated with stuffed birds and sea life suggesting that "Bill" is a taxidermist of some skill. A couple of rough looking barmaids with large daggers on their hips serve the patrons. Behind the bar a large mirror with a pronounce crack in it reflects the dim light through a variety of liquor bottles and a half dozen kegs are on stands and tapped. Several large axes hang on the wall as well, such that one will be in easy reach where ever the barman stands.
OOC: Who is going in? Everyone?