Barnaby resurfaced back to reality, sobered (momentarily) by the discussion taking place on deck.

"Lereau De Creau, you say?" The dwarf rolled himself into a ball and rocked back and forth. The momentum lifted Barnaby off from his back and onto his feet. He groaned as if rising from the shitter, his arthritic joints crackled like boots walking on pebbled shores. After gathering himself from the abrupt shift in movement, he stood upright, then belched: 

"Attendees, we've ourselves the Scarlet Swordsman of the South!" Barnaby pointed at the man. "Why, he once slayed an entire company of privateers with but a fish hook!" 

The psychedelic mushrooms kicked in once more as the floor boards started fluctuating in shape and size, the moon up above now radiating a vibrant spectrum of colors. "Good Goddess, Maletria, the Moon is a rainbow!" Barnaby danced as lithely as a wounded gazelle, unaware that the ship's marauders were in the path of his spirited jig. "Lereau De Creau, save us from peril!"