"I could do with a drink, Doctor," Sterling mentioned as he took his seat at his desk. Reiley was about to object when Symms quickly placed an empty glass next to the captain's elbow and went for the decanter. "To ease the pain," Sterling admitted. He looked across the small space as once again a knock sounded and door was looked to.
The other captain made his way inside. Sterling nodded but did not rise from his place.
"Welcome Captain MacCraige to the Archangel. I am John Sterling. My first lieutenant Andrew March, my steward Josiah Symms and our surgeon Dr. Reiley," he said, making introductions. "Would ye care for a drink? Mr. Symms," he added, taking a sip of his own port. He was forced to hold his expression, fighting hard not to cringe as the drink burned his mouth and throat. It would dull everything soon enough. He sat back, offering a second seat to MacCraige, then gently turned the glass of port in his hands. "How may I and my crew be of service to ye?"