Roland leered at the scene of townsfolk desperately dumping buckets of water onto a mockery of flames. Even so, the fire unsettled his nerves. He turned his back to the warehouse and began trekking back to the beach, keeping in mind that the crew were likely far from ready to go ashore.
Massimo can handle everything just fine-- we've done this countless times before. The thought resonated in Roland's mind, like the scrape of his boots against dirt and rock beneath them. This is a quiet enough town. There will be no need for my muscle anytime soon and, if there is, Massimo knows how to contact me.
As he trudged along, Roland payed close attention to the surrounding buildings and quaint roads. He gave the view of the docks and shipping yard extra attention. In due time, no one would recognize any of it.
Roland stepped onto the sandy beach and gazed over the incoming tide. The armoured beast of a ship bobbed behind an otherworldly, false fog. The crew had two rowing boats ashore now, and the handful of sailors on the beach hailed him.
"Mate Bentoncourt, back so soon?" asked the Quartermaster. "We haven't time to raise a single tent. Half the dogfish are still gamb-- I mean, bickering over the recent raids' loot."
Roland lifted his brow a fraction of a centimeter.
"Clothing and boots mostly, as they want to look respectable in town." He rolled his shoulders back and hooked his thumbs into a fine, navy doublet. "As per Captain Flynn's orders, of course."
Roland nodded and then looked back towards the town, a column of smoke rising into the night sky and obscuring low stars.
Roland patted his hips, turned back to his Quartermaster, and tapped a finger against the leftmost whistle strung around his neck.
"A- Aye, Bentoncourt." The Quartermaster turned to a young, clean-shaven man with dark skin. "Jaleel, the First Mate wants his belt and he wants the tents ashore."
"Of course," Jaleel said, and spent another moment examining a chart and scratching his bald head.
"Now!"
"Of course!" The young navigator hastily stuffed the chart in his rucksack, hopped into a boat, and positioned himself to row.
Roland helped another crewman push the boat out to sea. He watched the boat drift towards the Dapper Carp and breathed deeply of the ocean air.
It was saltier than usual, with a hint of iron.