“Excuse me, sir. Can I swab your poop deck? Your poop deck looks like it needs swabbing.”

There was always someone who had to be immature about this, but Jack didn’t much mind. Heavens knew the deck was aptly named, being as it was the one most likely to be smeared by passing seabirds. “By all means mate,” He nodded to where Ragetti was busy scrubbing, “I’m sure if you ask nicely, someone here’ll be happy to hand you a mop and bucket.”