"You'll have the starboard watch; we're down a man there. Mister Scott, if you would..." Lowe gave a firm nod, then turned and headed back up to the quarterdeck to keep watch on the vague, ghostly white sails behind them.

Scotty watched, a mild expression of worry, then turned to look back at Harold, and gestured, "Ahead, then, to the foc's'le. We lost a man three weeks ago, and we havena replaced him yet. Ye'll have his berth, though we'll have to outfit ye for gear from the slopchest. But pay's decent and ye'll likely not find a more fair ship. We're all hands right now, so as soon as ye have a look at where ye'll be sleepin', come back above and stand by the foremast." He wasn't quite so strict in tone as Lowe, not able to mask the curiosity in his voice, but he still had an officer's tone. "Have ye eaten, Lee?"