Rohaan scrubbed at his eyes and gave one final spit before he opened them and looked up at Hana, who had clearly given up the gentle coaxing strategy. If Berlin had been paying attention, he would have been proud of that. The lad often needed a little force to keep in line. The boy glowered up at her, and considering he was already somewhat soapy, he snatched up the bar and, grumbling, scrubbed. For all his dawdling in the bath, he made quick work of it--the sooner over, the better. When he'd rinsed, he shot out of the tub and proceeded to toss his clothes in for a scrub. When those had been sufficiently wrung dry and hung over the lip of an empty barrel to dry in the sun, Rohaan shamelessly streaked down to the crew quarters and found his spare pair of pants. They were a more fitted cut but were too big for him by a little bit, so he cinched them around his waist with an old piece of rope tied in a square knot that would have made Pieter proud. He didn't have a spare shirt, as the one that wasn't currently hanging to dry had previously been lit on fire. 

Rohaan found Hana again and was about to ask her about this linament he'd so dutifully bathed for when he caught sight of Berlin. He'd spent a lot of time relying on visual cues rather than verbal ones, so he was fairly perceptive of those things for a ten year old. And he knew his captain. He didn't know what it was exactly, but something had happened. 

--

Berlin turned sharply, suddenly alert. He assumed it was another vessel, and as magically gifted pirates they really had little to fear out on the high seas. The captain considered merchant ships to be opportunities and naval ships to be a nuisance at worst. So it was with an intrigued expression that he pulled out his spyglass from a pouch at his belt and squinted through it to  peer at the faint dark shape Pieter had indicated. The little smirk he had melted away almost immediately. For a while he was silent, but whatever he was seeing was clearly not at all what he expected and not at all comforting. 

Then in typical Berlin fashion, he calmly handed the spyglass over to Pieter and said, "Priest...mind telling me what I'm looking at?" He assumed that if it wasn't a vessel, then it had to be something of The Salt, and he guessed and hoped that Pieter would have some idea of what exactly he was looking at. "Is...that...something in your jurisdiction? Or is that something else entirely?"

--

Uban plunked down hard in a seat with a tin mug of rum with a wedge of lime floating in it. As soon as he sat, he realized that it would be some time before he was willing to get up again; the high of his power was fading already and it left him feeling absolutely exhausted. For once, Uban was actually quiet as he drank, and by the time he got to the bottom of the cup he was beginning to nod and more than once the cup almost fell out of his hands. "Damn..." he muttered, suddenly as groggy as if Berlin had just commanded him to sleep with his influential touch. But even he could see the dark shape out in the distance. He couldn't make out exactly what it was, but he assumed it was a ship and groaned. He even entertained the idea of getting up, but instead just leaned back with a sigh and said dismissively, "Eh. Just don't let 'em kill me, mate, yeah?"