EDITOR’S NOTE, PREVIOUSLY: Ahab has been killed, along with several others. The ship has been haunted by his ghost. The crew has managed to sail to Tahiti for more food, water and crew if that is possible. Starbuck, as the new Captain, has fired several men that attempted knifing Fedallah. This backfired when the said men attacked Starbuck, but are now all dead because he wasn’t alone after all. In the inn Stubb and Bulkington have encountered a strange shipwreck-survivor. Meanwhile Starbuck, Flask, Ishmael, Queequeg and Fedallah are teaming up to bury the dead before anyone notices. Statistics: 1 sunken ship (not the Pequod), 35 drowned men (see previous), 6 killed men (Ahab, the ships doctor, 4 sailors), 1 killed whale, 3 (?) mutinies, god only knows how many murder attempts
//// @mrstubb-2ndmate WROTE ////
Stubb hadn't noticed much difference in who was gone. He gathered that Flask had slipped off, but that could've been easily explained by any number of things. Perhaps he’s off trying butter for the first time in an eternity. The man mused, his arm thrown around another drunken stranger, caterwauling any old song that came to mind.
What he did notice, though, even in his state, was the bedraggled man looking like he'd just crawled back from the gates of hell. Didn't miss how Bulkington looked at him too. A shipwrecked sailor, alright. Stubb wanted to snort, sticking his pipe in his mouth, but held his tongue just quick enough to remember that there was a good chance the man was a shipwrecked sailor.
He slid down from his perch on some table, away from his new comrades of a roaring, woozy choir, and stumbled right on over to the man, who was now crying.
Couldn't help but be a bit nosy, huh?
“Cheer up now, lad, you're on dry land!” The first-mate offered, grinning through his teeth. Which, in fairness, probably didn't do much to help.
Ishmael and Queequeg returned with the ’borrowed’ boat and the utterly wrecked and nearly-forgotten sail for a fabric.
Starbuck didn’t really do much else than stare at the blood drying in his hands. He tried to think of it with reason. The bay was too shallow for a burial, which meant that they had to wait for night or sneak the bodies onboard the ship, hide them somewhere (God knew it would be the barrels). Then he thought of it. That wasn’t a good plan, either. They had to get rid of the bodies as soon as possible, before they’d start rotting. Which meant tonight but deeper water. Perhaps using the ship herself as cover and just praying nothing got close enough to witness anything. It they kept the lights down it’d be as dark as the surrounding night. It was already gone dark. Besides he had to return to the ship and get himself looking like a civilized person again.
He told of these plans to the others, including Flask who seemed to look a little sobered up. The plan wouldn’t need much time, either. Sails, a few stitches, some weights, a prayer just to keep the ghosts out, done.
”I’d like to stay on dry land for the rest of my life.. if it’s all the same to you, sir,” the man managed to reply. Either because of the shock or because of poor meals and fastly drank spirits he’d began to look a little tipsy. ”Have you got any idea what’s out there?”
Several curious (including Bulkington) had already began gathering around.