"A boat, Vincent?" She had to shout to be heard over the crashing waves and shouts of other sailors. The increased volume only magnified the pitiful moans that layered her words. If that were not enough to indicate that she was not feeling well, almost all of the color was drained from her face. The colors that did remain were dark and greenish, a bit like the water that sloshed below her. "It had to be a boat?"

"How else did you expect to get to an island?" Vince called back cheerfully, seemingly unaware of the state she was in. Or else, he was happy to go on enjoying himself, in hopes it might rub off on her.

Rayleigh tightened her hold on the sturdy wooden railing. "Oh, I don't know. Magic?"

Vince finally turned to her, expertly closing the spyglass with all the flair of a bearded, peg-legged, port-plundering pirate. That was, after all, the look he had intended in purchasing the item. "You hate magic," came the response.

"Not as much as I hate boats."