Jack had risen early, and spent the wee hours taking inventory of the Armoury, including the scant weapons contributed by the newcomers. He paused to look again at the massive Claymore that Mr. Hawks had so masterfully restored. A fit blade for William Wallace himself, and sure to be a comfortable fit for our newly-freed friend.
He closed his ledger, and finished his list of supplies that the ship would need to remained well-heeled. Powder, shot, wadding, oil, and a fresh whetstone. He'd vet the list with the Quartermaster to procure the needed funds, but that would wait for later in the day.
Jack folded the list and tucked it into his coat pocket, snuffed the lamp, and locked the door to the Armoury behind him. The heady smell of fresh coffee wafted down to him, and he followed it to the always warm and comfortable galley.