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Whakano, the Barber: How are things aboard your ship, sir?
Faustus, the Fence: The Marylene? Oh, you know... Get a bunch of men in a small space and there's bound to be bickering and brawling. The ol' lashing arm's been getting a good workout, I must say.
Whakano, the Barber: Do they mind you spending all this time here, sir?
Faustus, the Fence: Well they don't exactly know I'm here, per se, but I imagine, rapscallions that they are, they savour any time where the man-in-charge is absent. In my day, we'd tie up the first mate, break into the swill, and see who could down the most before passing out or dying.
Whakano, the Barber: You must've met the lash when your captain came back, eh?
Faustus, the Fence: Oh, no. No no no. Most of us came from good, Innocence-fearing families. The captain knew that raising a hand to us would put him in hot water back home. We got away with murder, really. No, really, a few of the boys beat a galley slave to death. Barely got a talking to. Nowadays, of course, Admiral Darnaw lets damn-near anyone join the ranks. Horrible policy. I do enjoy doling out the punishments, though.