One by one, waterlogged figures draw themselves upright, dotting the beach for perhaps a hundred yards in either direction. Of course, not all rise. Some lay unmoving and still upon the sands.<br/><br/>When the crew gathers, perhaps a dozen stand with the passengers, half that lying in a row at the high tide mark where their comrades have carried them. No one saw, or commented on, Morgan's removal of one pair of boots, as their own no longer requires them.<br/><br/>Soft words indicated that perhaps another ten of the crew were still unaccounted for. Perhaps they had been swept further along the beach or carried out with the tide. Or perhaps ... just perhaps ... some lay still trapped within the hull of the ship where it listed offshore.<br/><br/>"We ought to go out there. See if there's still any aboard, and gather what we can." The speaker was the ship's purser, as both Captain and First Mate were not among those ashore. "Anyone a strong swimmer?"