The sailors lowered their cups, cast a blink at the kid, and glanced at each other.

"Oy," crooked-nose barked, leaning on one knee, "who're you callin' a clunker?"

"It's called sarcasm, boy," baldie huffed, peering down at him with only slight amusement. "Different people have different ideas about what makes a hero. Only one I know of that would consider a mountain one of them."

"I'd rather not be a hero, by that definition," crooked-nose pointed out, waggling a finger at the kid. He sighed and leaned back. "But no use fer it. Unless we mutiny we're not shovin' off at all. No captain, no sail. We'll die miserable and alone in our beds."

"What are you hanging around for, kid?" baldie asked, and his eyes had turned suspicious.