The mess of the ship begins to fill with the sounds of laughter and camaraderie as afternoon turns to evening. Gregor's smile at Storms' question doesn't touch his eyes. "Oh! This little one?" He finally reveals the tattoo, "I picked it up - well, you'll never believe - a story for the ages, it is - you see, first you need to hear how I -"

"Captain on deck!" Alessia suddenly shouts. Crewmen and women stop whatever it is their doing and stand straight-backed in place. Cups clatter to the planks and music stops mid-note. Gent clams up and stands with the rest. The Captain strolls down the ladder and over to Master Gent and Storms. He says nothing, but nods appreciatively at their work in the galley. He doesn't partake in a dumpling. Instead, he once more glances at every man and woman in the mess with those unnerving eyes.

Then, very slowly, he draws a piece of folder parchment from his inner jacket pocket. "At ease," he says to his crew, "Tonight's poem is called 'Moonlight over Alistair' . . ."