Roger looked up at Bane, from where he crouched beside the woman. Bane was a tall, muscular black man with a West Indies accent. He wore a white shirt, smeared with the blood of his enemies, and a pair of tight black breaches. He had always though Bane was a sensible sort, especially after living such a difficult life. Bane was the son of African slaves and had only been free himself in the last few years.

"Indeed, she must have come from the pirate ship. Either that or she is a stowaway, though I've never seen a simple stowaway fight like she did." Roger carefully worked his arms under her thighs and upper back, and then lifted her off the desk. "I'll take her to the cabin and make sure she is settled in. Go see if you can be of any help to the doctor." Bane nodded and trotted off along the deck.

Roger felt the muscles in his arms and back strain as he carried the woman. She weighed more than she look. He carried her below deck, and into the spare cabin. Once he had her laid in a bunk, he impersonally ran his hands over her, looking for wounds. Mostly she seemed half starved, and the blood was not her own. Satisfied that she just needed some sleep and a good meal, he covered her with a blanket and headed towards the door. He turned around for a moment. "I'll return with a wash basin, a change of clothing and something for you to eat. Your safe enough here, so stay put."