It was the sound of something clattering against stone. He just made out scuttling shapes over the form of the strange vessel off their bow, separated from them by a thin veil of water vapour, not making a sound other than what their movements would allow. He couldn't make them out, their hulking, distorted forms dark and mysterious on the other side of the mist, crawling over the terrible mass of the vessel that bore them passing them by. Handy felt his skin crawl. The sheer menace the presence of the passing ship inspired was enough to dredge up the horrors of the Greenwoods, of being surrounded by wood and mist and the things they hid.