Disorder...Charlie absolutely hated disorder.

When he woke up...his hair, his shirt, pants, shoes...no, just one shoes...! Everything was just chaos painted across his form, never mind the fact he was half submerged in the sand and water. Ironically, the morning sky was so peaceful. If he wasn't who he was, Charlie might've let the blue of the sky and the golden yellow of the sun ease his heart. Well, this is what happened when you had a captain who was (allegedly) afraid of storms. With this thought, he had to wonder if the crew and fellow staffers were alright, if the passengers were alright...then again, he could be alone in this one.

Spitting out a gritty mixture of sand, sea, and a little bit of blood--damn, it seems he had bit the inside of his mouth at some point--he tried to recall what happened exactly to cause this mess, but a headache was all he got. Reaching a hand up to fix his hair with his hands, his hand grazed some sort of painful head wound, eliciting a hiss from his lips. Great, a head injury. It seemed the longer he was conscious, the more injuries he discovered on his person. Patting his dressy pants' pockets, he was surprised that his glasses were still in, and was even more surprised when he pulled them out and found the glass was still in tact. Putting them on, Charlie finally got a chance to properly scope out his surroundings.

A beautiful beach, white sands, crystal blue [I]salt[/I] water...and in his general area, there seemed to be a lot of floating debris and luggage. Suitcases and bags floating in the water brought a brief memory of some sort of fight with a wealthy man about what could and could not go on a life boat...maybe it was he who caused this head injury...? Well, this memory and the presence of the debris was enough to tell him he wasn't alone in this. Looking out the distant right, then the distant left, there was a lot of beach shores...no doubt others must have washed on shored further from his location, as he didn't see anybody or any bodies in the area around him.

First things first, after gathering his wits about him, he decided that it'd be smart to salvage the baggage from the water. It didn't need to stay floating in the water like that, and since (with all this debris) they likely didn't have a ship, they'd need to make use of what they could till help arrives. Then...then he'd have to travel down the beach to find survivors, make some sort of consecutive decision about the situation with the crew, and then spend some time reassuring the passengers. Then, there'd be setting up some sort of camp...there'd be the crew, gathering the bodies of the less fortunate at some point. Still...keep to the plan, keep organised, and things should go back to running smoothly. For now, that was the plan...

And so, Charlie started wading through the waters, pulling the baggage onto shore. A suitcase under the shallows, a large case floating out a pit further away, a leather satchel, a small purse...