The captain winced dramatically and rubbed at the back of her neck with a little chuckle. “Yeeeeeeaahhh...perhaps we’d best keep some of the more, ah, personal recent developments to ourselves for a while?”
Her smile was a bit sheepish, which was about as odd a look on her as surprise was on him.
She didn’t have time to linger on it though, because then Crav was calling, “Land ho!”— as if they all couldn’t already see it— and the Storm was suddenly approaching port almost more quickly than she could keep up with.
The crew had to be taken stock of, and informed that they’d have five days’ shore leave on the island. A few of them grumped about there being nothing to do on the tiny speck of sand, but most just seemed relieved that they’d gotten through the voyage without any casualties.
That done, she had to take stock of her ship, take note of what had been damaged and what they could afford to fix.
A man, lanky and graying, turned up at the docks as the conspicuously flagless ship pulled into port, and just hung back watching the bustle with a wistful sort of smile. A stranger to most of the crew, the younger set, but a welcome and familiar face to the rare few who’d served under him.
“Cap’n.” Crab nodded to him as he came down the gangplank, a pack over his shoulder.
Abraham chucked. “Not anymore.” Grey eyes lit on a familiar face and he raised a hand in greeting. “Hoy there, sailor! Thought ogres were mountain folk— what’s a big brute like you doing on the deck of a ship?” he called, lips curved up in a lopsided grin.
