Snoring. The most common sound in the hold of the Molly Whop. As it was where Boatswain Gilligan, the Boatswain, had set up his hammock. Back in behind the hardtack and just left of the rum. There was also a crate of fully rotten fruit in there somewhere. You could almost smell it over the rum. Odin knows where that was. Not like anybody cared.<br/><br/>An eyepatch on either eye, each limb draped over the sides, and a scruffy cat sitting idly upon his naked torso, chewing on a rat. It wouldn't eat the rat, of course. Nibble it a bit. A small bite here or there. But the rat was a gift for its favorite crew member. Gilligan hadn't woken up without a dead rat under his nose since they'd left port. Cats were bastards.<br/><br/>A sudden shifting of the ship sent the poor sod hurling from his post. Screaming awake. The cat leaping to safety. The rat landing on the damp wooden boards of the ships hull, just moments before Gill's face hit the same spot, open mouth clamping around the feline saliva soaked fur of the dead animal and silencing the Boatswains cries.<br/><br/>He was on his feet in and instant, face red with rage, mouth chewing muffled obscenities around its fetid cargo of vermin. Swiping the creature from his mouth, he bit its head off, spit the skull across the room, and hurled the rest towards the mewling bastard that had brought it to him in the first place.<br/><br/>"Ya fukken cat! I'll kill ya dead I swear it!" The cat sauntered away as the frothing pirate lifted both of his eyepatches to reveal two perfectly working eyes. "Sonuva whore, can I not get one bloody nights sleep without you and your damned rats? Odin's beard I probably have the plague already."<br/><br/>His fury subsiding almost as quickly as it came, it occured to him that the floor was all slantwise. This was it. They were sinking. "Welp. S'been a good run. I'd rather have drowned in my sleep but at least the cap'n won't expect me to scurry about the deck and die tired." He made to move back to his hammock to await the bitter end, only to be hurled into one of the rum casks skull first by the ship righting itself in the water.<br/><br/>Cursing, he made his was topside. The sun blazed down on him, and he had to shade his eyes with his hand to see anything at all. Turns out, hiding down in the hold to avoid doing any work had its own downsides. But then, who's to say he wasn't doing his job? He was the Boatswain. And though he didn't quite know what a Boatswain was, neither did anyone else.<br/><br/>As far as the world was concerned, he was the best damned Boatswain this side of the pacific, and his work was absolutely essential to keeping the ship afloat. Probably.<br/><br/>As his eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight, he made a meager effort to make himself appear presentable. Spitting on his hand, he swept his stomach length brown hair back out of his face, and stroked his small beard. Torso bare to reveal a relatively unimpressive build lacking much muscle or meat of any kind, and too big pants stuffed into a pair of boots and held up by a fine leather belt with a shiny metal buckle. Pulling a bandanna from his pocket, his tied it over his head. He'd stolen the thing from a certain leprechaun years ago after making it to the end of the rainbow. He'd have made off with the gold to, but a Rainbow Hunter had chased him off. One does not trifle with Rainbow Hunters.<br/><br/>No weapon hung at his waist. His weapon was his dagger sharp wit and incredible ability to run away from things that would kill him.<br/><br/>Well... not really. His actual weapon was all the other poor sods on the ship that carried swords and pistols.  They would give their lives for him should the need arise, whether they intended to or not. It was for the best, really. After all, he was far more important than any of them. He was the Boatswain. It was his name.<br/><br/>Perhaps he should go back to sleep. When the first thing you see upon leaving the bowels of the ship for the first time in days is a whale with a horn, glaring at you over the ships railing, you have scurvy. You're slowly going insane, and you need your rest. Maybe he'd hunt down that crate of rotten fruit. Or maybe not. Better death by scurvy than dysentry.<br/><br/>At least it was an interesting dream. Someone had drifted in from the sea and declared himself captain immediately upon setting foot on the deck. So was the story told by the swabby Gilligan had dragged over to demand an explanation. An explanation he had been forced to give because he was a swabby, and Gill was a Boatswain. He outranked him.<br/><br/>And when he nonchalantly punched out that same swabby, he had no choice but to accept that knuckle sandwhich. Gill outranked him. Gill was a Boatswain. Gill was important.<br/><br/>It was ridiculous. This was ridiculous. The new guy was ridiculous. His horny whale was ridiculous. But the ship and its real captain? Much worse. Gill shoved his way through the crowd and stood up to the blonde man. His arms crossed in front of his chest confidently. Of course he was confident. He was a Boatswain. Not some nancy quartermaster or helmsman. He was important. Though being slightly shorter than the bastard did kind of trod upon the effect he was hoping for.<br/><br/>"You. You're Ned? You think you can captain this ship with your fancy whale and your... uhh... you're not really... well I guess you're... tall? Doesn't matter. Leumas is getting us nowhere." He spun on his heel and raised his hand to the gathering crowd of men not doing their jobs, whatever those were. "Hear me, men of the Whop Molly. Tom Leumas is a terrible captain. This guy couldn't possibly do any worse. I , the Boatswain" much of the crowd oohed and awed at his title despite having as much idea of what it meant as Gill himself. "support this mans bid for mutiny! We should throw Tom over the side immediately, if not sooner."<br/><br/>Mutiny was always great fun.<br/><br/>The rest of the crew simply stared at him. Apparently they did not agree. It seemed he would need to use some of his immense persuasion skills to convince them. "I am the Boatswain. I outrank all of you."<br/><br/>The crowd murmered to themselves, mostly commenting on how it was true that he was indeed the Boatswain. No doubt making a futile effort to puzzle out what a Boatswain even was.