"Mo oui, oue are so'gallant," Emmaline replied sweeping the hat off her head in an elaborate bow. Clothing offered a degree of protection to a civilized person that was beyond mere protection from the elements. Even so she gave Amal a playful pinch on the rump while he fiddled with the lock on the first chest using a rusted nail and a sliver of wood as improvised picks. The ship looked as though it had been reasonably well cleaned out, there was little in the way of tools and nothing in the way of supplies left, as though everything that the surviving crew could carry had been hauled out of the vessel. Emmaline could easily imagine the surviving crew gathering up everything they could for a march... somewhere. Unfortunately whatever navigational records or charts had guided the ship here were also long gone. It was clear that they were somewhere far to the west of Brettonia but where exactly that was, or whether there were any settlements here was beyond her knowledge. Perhaps the crew had merely been searching for a stretch of coast not ringed by shoals and rescue might be more likely. Or slightly less unlikely.

"Almost got it," Amal muttered as he fiddled with his lock picks. Emmaline drew back her foot and bought it down hard on the lock of the second chest, the hasp sprang free as the ageworn timber crumbled. Amal clicked the lock open on his own chest and looked at her critically.

"Well sure, but no points for style," he admonished. They both threw open their chests. Inside were an assortment of personal items, quills and paper, a leather bound book that looked to be the captains journal, an old hurricane lantern and some more clothing. More practically there were a pair of jeweled daggers and a short sword with a leather bound hilt. Emmaline's chest was less usefully stocked with several bottles of liquor a darning kit and some navigational equipment including an astrolade and sextant. These were of limited use without charts but Emmaline gathered them up and tucked them into a leather rucksack that lay neatly folded at the bottom. A further search of the ship revealed nothing much of use, though they did gather up some rope, some canvas and a few of the large metal decking nails before reluctantly wading back ashore.

The sun was already going down so they strung the rope between to palm trees to make a tent and Amal began to construct a fire. About halfway through he realised he didn't have anyway to light it, but Emmaline conjured a flame that set the kindling alight. She also was able to use a spell to stun some of the fish that ventured into the shallows and they prepared a meal of fish grilled on short sticks which seemed heavenly in comparison to days of hunger and the meager fare provided by the strange fruit. It might have been possible to fashion a pot from the metal they recovered using magic but such a feat was beyond Emmaline without proper preparation. Once they had eaten Emmaline tried to read the book by firelight. Her Brettonian was not really up to the challenge however and after divining that the name of the ship had been the Caroline and she was a merchant out of Bordeaux she had to give up the text as impenetrable. 

"Well," she said at last as she lounged against a large log of driftwood beside Amal, walking her fingers up his chest absently.

"What do you think we should do?"