He then pulled the hood of his cloak over and grabbed a washrag, dunking it in a bucket of water and tied it around his face up to the eyes, the freezing cold shocking him as he pressed it to his face. He could be concerned about it being dirty or not when he wasn’t worrying about being boiled alive by steam. He braced behind the door, losing his grip as yet another blow struck the ship, this time from the opposite direction, sending him to one knee and causing the entire ship to groan from the strain. He got back up, readied himself, and pulled open the heavy door, allowing the steam to billow forth into the storage hold.