Hans keeps quiet for a short while after the question is given him, looking solemn. He casts a glace at Elizabeth, with whom he by now had a pretty good friendship, and leans over to whisper to her.<br/><br/>"The captain is not popular. Something may happen soon. But I doubt we'll be a part of it."<br/><br/>He returns to his meal, eating in solemn silcence. This was obviously not a topic he was inclined to discuss in the middle of dinner, surrounded by men of uncertain intentions. But the general mood around the table was unmistakable: recent events, such as stricter punishments for minor infractions, general lack of respect, and the captain's disregard for the crew's opinions had led to a poisonous atmosphere. There were mutterings about the low rum rations, too, which oddly enough to Hans seemed like the worst part of it all.<br/><br/>Hans did not really care much either way. The captain didn't care much about either him or Elizabeth, it seemed, so he just stuck to his work doing menial chores. It was not until later that night that things began to happen. After having gone to sleep, Hans heard noises from the hold. Hushed voices, clinking of metal. Footsteps headed hurriedly for deck. Hans sneaks over to where Elizabeth sleeps, and shakes her gently.<br/><br/>"Elizabeth. Something's happening. You should get up."<br/><br/>He keeps shaking her, not stopping until she eventually stirs. When she does, he clasps a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, lifting it off only when he's certain she gets the picture.