Jan was walking around the harbour, looking for someone who needed more sailors but it seemed all under-crewed ships he found had people speaking foreign tongues; Bretonnian, or even from Araby. Dismayed, he went to the blacksmith with whom he often had a chat who could always us a strong young lad for help and thus got some pay after banging a few breastplates straight. It was enough at least, keep afloat. 

After a while he went along aimlessly until he saw a paper on a lamp posting. He was not illiterate but he nevertheless wanted to ask around if anyone knew this Captain Florian. A large Bretonnian overheard him asking locals, and apparently knowing of him marched over to say that yes indeed, Florian was a good Captain; he had just bought a load of Bretonnian Cognac off of him and naturally had a good view.

Once he reached it, he sat down and ordered a small serving of ale, not being fond of alcohol and looked around. It was really hard to distinguish a Captain from other peoples. It surely wasn't written on their foreheads, and he doubted there was much to the idea that they all wore big wide hats with a plume in them. Thus, he settled for standing up, filling up his big lungs and simply asking out loud "Who here is Captain Florian?"