boat maintenance thread

So my mother - Winter I'd call her, for the long stretches it was me and Mom living in London - was a modestly successful, well-travelled sea captain who was torn apart by mutineers the one time she took a dip into the human trafficking business. Apparently her reputation as a cannibal queen of the high seas didn't mean squat by the time the crew hit breaking point.

I'd always figured I'd follow in Winter's footsteps, eventually, maybe, once living on subterranea firma like a normal Londonite stopped appealing to me for some godforsaken reason.

Mom's will was delivered a few months back by a lady with a face like death and an utterly inscrutable laugh when I asked her if she felt alright. She was the surgeon on my mother's ship, and wants to hold a similar position under my captaincy.

Winter left me a gun, some steamy literature and her surgeon, willing the townhouse to Mom. She gave me the go-ahead to sell off some of Winter's old cabinets and curios and scrounge enough funds for a partway decent ship (One that would have actual space to mount my inherited armament.) Mom's getting on in years, but I still remember her talking about Winter's promise that all three of us would live in a mansion one day.

Dear diary,

I brokered a peace treaty between some rats and guinea pigs, then they all partied so hard they were mercilessly crushed by an invading fleet of mask-wearing weirdos. Whoops!

you should go to the beach catching sharks so you can sell them as pets later, that's how most captains get their shipmoney

I don't know about sharks but I did find a strumpet! She was hanging around on a beach near London, then she ate two of my crew before I managed to put her and her benthic snakefriend down.

you fool, she would've been worth at least five crewmates

the snake, seven

i'm just saying you could've traded two crew for twelve

While hiring the snake and harlot for crewing purposes did cross my mind, it sadly occurred to me that a snake is lacking in hands and is thus grossly unsuitable for managing all a ship's fiddly bits.

Fortunately, I was close enough to home that new crew were a half-tankard of fuel away, and still far enough that aspersions upon my managerial skills hadn't yet reached the taverns of London. I popped in on a few occasions between some exploratory jaunts to the Corsair's Forest and other key points of the soul trade, and found myself some intriguing individuals to join my crew:

-A guy with a really nasty looking tattoo, and a deathwish involving a trip to the frigid north.
-A hook-handed engineer; calls himself a magician.
-A devil-consorting maniac of a gunner whose idea of a dinner date involves torpedo components.

I've got no pressing goals beyond amassing enough money to make a Master jealous, and finding some place out east called the Empire of Hands. My bro in the Admiralty's Office lent a book or something to a friend out that way and wants it back. If any of my correspondents have suggestions or known avenues of easy money, I'd be happy to hear them.

steal houses and sell them back to their owners

I hear that there's some sphinxes made of rare stone out eastways that're falling apart, apparently the stuff's worth good money back home.