Loose lips sink ships - Part 2

Daybreak on the Beast and there's a changing of the watch. A tarp has been thrown over the big table to protect against the elements while people catch up on some much needed sleep. Soft calls through the fleet as people muster groggily for their duties. A number of launches have occurred to ferry people back and forth between ships and Arks to facilitate repairs and transferring work crews. There's been alarming reports of feedstocks running low for the critters on Ark #2 but the shepherds haven't been permitted to break into the mass seedlings and other provisions meant for sustainability when landfall is properly made. The last shadow, a place of decay or heightened entrophy, resulted in a number of livestock being dumped over the side. Unfit for food and stinking up the joint.

A prisoner has been tied to the main mast of the Beast. She's unable to move anything but her head, but she is under watchful eyes of a guard throughout the shift changes. She has been lightly ba-donking the back of her head against the mast in rhythm and humming dryly to pass the time. Ruby's near the prow and is watching the female prisoner with a heavy-lidded gaze. As if she stared long enough something would magically happen. A weary sailor nearby calls out the fathoms while the ship is at anchor. By their tone, they are bored and don't expect a change of depth after a whole shift of such.
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