[h3][color=39b54a]Danneil[/color][/h3]
After finishing for the day with the waterline, the Carp went down to the Orlop and organized the new timbers, before heading to the gun deck and replacing several boards that had been scorched from both the powder monkeys, and the pitch catching alight during the last fight. It was a constant process. New, wet, swell, shrink, leak, rot, replace. Not too much all at once, but over time, it would all get replaced. And Danneil would see to it. It was well past dark when he finally made it to the galley, ripped off a chunk of bread, and poured a dram of rum. It would be reported as allotted to him, but he was owed it, and then some. Every seaman was allotted a certain amount of rum a day, and Danneil rarely met his quota. He was too damn busy. 

He went up on deck for awhile, getting the night air, feeling the ship creak and move underneath him, listening for the sounds of his world, any telltales that the ship was telling him she needed care and attention. But tonight, all was the sea, and the sounds of the crew. They weren't overjoyed -- the last raid had been a bust -- but they were afloat, they were fed, life went on. Spotting the Master Gunner at a distance, he approached with reports. [color=39b54a]"Ms. Huron, Ma'am -- I replaced two dozen planks damaged in the last action on the Gun Deck. Ship-shape and sound for now, but on the morrow I'm going to shore up a joist from below that took damage. Nothing aboard to replace it, currently."[/color] He paused, looking out over the rail. [color=39b54a]"You reckon Cap'n will accept the Black Beard's offer?"[/color]

[@HyliaIncarnate]