Been thinking about that

Since he first considered captaining his own ship Brenan knew that he would have to find a way to recruit able bodied seamen (or women). It is easy enough to find untrained youngsters willing to sign on in exchange the promise of travel adventure and wealth, but a swift runner like his is different than a lumbering merchantman or a warship. In order for the ship to handle perfectly each crew member had to be a trained sailor. There could be maybe one slot for some promising youth, if he could find someone good with big guns, he could use his help training the crew in tactics. But what he really needed were two junior officers he could trust and three or four experienced sailors that were quick with their hands and minds.

If he had already had a few successful runs under his belt, the best sailors in the island chain would be knocking down his hatch trying to get aboard but without a reputation to stand on Brenan needed an other way to find and recruit his crew.

The best officer he ever knew was Red Arlensen. She was the most junior officer on the first ship he served on “The Kranderkill” named after one of the sea’s indigenous serpent-like hunters. As the junior officer, Red had been put in charge of getting the landlubbers up to speed. Her understanding of what made a ship sail smoothly never failed to impress Brenan, even after he had mastered the basics Red taught him and the other rookies the finer points of sailing that were well beyond what was needed to serve as a deck hand. Although not afraid to punish lack of effort with a whip or brig, Red had little need of either. Red recognized success with a genuine smile and word of praise; when one of her charges erred she offered encouragement and suggestions more often than curses or lashes. Ocasionally Red would even reward stellar achievement with an invitation to visit her bunk, for both men and women.

Red had retired just a year after he received his seaman’s cap. Said the salt water was ruining her smooth skin and took her share of a particularly rich prize and left the Kranderkill. Brenan knew there must be more to the story, it was very odd to retire at the age of thirty-three, and with only a small cut of the prize. None of the other officers approved of her training technique, and after she left the training was much more reminiscent of the brutal military indoctrination camps, but by then Brenan had his sea legs and no longer needed her extra coaching. He did miss her though and when he decided to buy his first ship he asked around to see where she was.

He took it as a reading from Xelta’s Console when he learned that Red lived only a long day’s ride away from Freeport on the far side of this very island. He could either rent a horse and ride over himself, or if he could find even a skeleton crew he could sail his new ship around the island and show Red her sleek lines. Turning to Davy he asked:

“Who do you know looking for work – and no offence, but I’ve seen both your sons, and they won’t fit down these hatches.” He knew Davy wouldn’t mind his joke, his sons both took after his wife and although only two and four years old, already were as round as ice seals.

“Oh, I was going to suggest my wife as your ship’s whore.” Replied Davy “But I’m not sure she could fit down the hatches either.” The two men's laughter fills the small cabin and then Davy continues. “You hear the Cryn navy caught up with Wild Oscar, and sank the Dorian?” When he sees Brenan's nod he continues “Two of his lads were out scouting the mainland when it happened so they didn’t go down with the rest of the crew. They don’t look much like fighters, but they’re quick and light on their feet. You want to meet them?”