Snippet #1290308

James watched Maggie admonish the broken captain gravely, pity lurking behind his expression. To lose one's livelihood and one's friends was a blow indeed but it would not do for a person in a position of authority to go to pieces. Though he would never show it, he felt embarrassed at the Ulsttorman's lack of dignity; weakness in business, even human weakness, should be reserved for behind a closed office door or during a walk through winding city streets. Men had died, yes but more could die if someone did not take the lead.

Thankfully, Maggie's words seemed to ignite a little fire in the other man's eyes and after a brief moment, anger overtook despair and he strode past her to bark out orders to the remaining crew.

James tried to make himself as useful as possible, slinging the sacks of supplies down onto the beach as they were passed up from the hold. Soon the ship had been stripped of everything useful- food, tools and clothing. Even the vat of freshwater that had survived the storm had been carefully lowered down onto the sand. All that remained was the ship itself.

"We will need shelter," he said to Calder; the only man remaining on deck. The rest of the crew- only a dozen or so men- were milling about on the beach below. Graves were beginning to be dug further inland beneath the palms. "If there's another storm or if the weather turns. The sail would do for tents and the rest of the ship can be used for walls or firewood."

James was not a sentimental man but from the way Calder was looking at the husk of his ship, he could tell the other man would not submit to such practicalities easily. The ship was his and he would of course be loathe to see it broken up. But there was no other choice and to refuse would damn him and the survivors to exposure or worse. And James was fully prepared to tell him so should he indeed refuse.