Dayne coughed seawater, blinking in the sudden light and trying to force himself to stand. If it weren't for the mate's quick thinking with the rope... Wasn't a pleasant thought. The scout sat up, feeling around for his pack. That was something, at least. His equipment had come with him. It'd need some drying out, but if the oilcloth had managed to protect the more fragile items, he was in good shape.

"Any idea where we are?" He asked, looking over at the others. His wounds would need to be dealt with, but that could wait. The most pressing concern, right now, was survival.

OOC:
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Has the storm stopped, by the way? What's the weather like?