Beth had felt the strangers eyes asses her. She grinned at the joke about the drink. "It ain't much drink." She added, in her roughed voice, long damaged from yelling in the top masts down. "I was, but my ship decided to leave without me. Been crashin' at my uncle here's place." She nodded to the well intoxicated man beside her. There was no point gettin' into why she had been left, unless asked. Then she'd tell the truth. The navigator was pissed that her corrections, which he hadn't admitted were right, were in fact right, and they had ended up a couple hundred miles further south than desired. 

They eventually got up to Florida and the ship had left about five minutes before Beth had made up to the dock. It had technically been her Uncle who had delayed her, but she wasn't late, and that pissed her off the most. 

Beth pocketed the tool and held out her hand to the stranger. "I'm Dave Wakefield, Navigator." She decided adding the title would be the best way to make sure she didn't get put in a shit job again.