Jarrik rolled out of his hammock, in a motion long honed from practice, feeling even more refreshed than from a bed of fine merchant lord's linens. A lust for greater adventure had kept him from the life of a sailor, but being aboard a ship brought back fond memories of yesteryears, spurred on by the familiar sensations of scent, sight and sound. It felt good, and he could not recall the last time he had slept so soundly.
He used the small basin of fresh water, a luxury reserved for passengers and ranked crew, to freshen up before stalking off in search of food. The galley was meager with an wizened man missing a hand preparing food, it was common to have injured men take up the duties of ship's cook. The old timer was surprisingly deft, quickly presenting a plate of salted pork, cheese, ration biscuits and a cup of ale.
He sat reminiscing picking at his food and took to mumbling out a few words from the old songs. "Farewell an' adieu to you ladies of Antiva...We clewed up our tops'ls, stuck out tacks and sheets..."