It's dark in the galley, as the sun sets behind the Hispaniola, captained by Captain Smollet and Mr. Arrow, his first mate. Stars twinkle over head, lending their light through cracked planks down into the ships kitchen.

"Weigh, hey, and up she rises-" A low, rumbling voice sings a quiet, low tune, as he scrapes potato peels into a watery stew. "Early in the morning." He perks up at the sound of footsteps on a rickety stair, leading into his galley. "Jimbo, my boy. Is that you, make yourself useful and grab these tatos-" He cuts off when there isn't a response and turns around.

"Ah, sorry. Thought ye were the cabin boy, the little bugger." He sets down his carving knife for a moment, hands up as he turns. His peg leg clunks against the floor, grabbing his nearby rickety wooden crutch. "Little Bilge raf must've turned in for the evening, growing boy needs his sleep. Now-" He flashes a grin, one gold tooth gleaming. "What can old Long John do for ye?"