Just in case any of you were wondering, it's not just that the ships won't sail. A rowboat doesn't go any further. Not even if you row for that scarp of cloth on the horizon just as hard as you can.

Cherie and I are on the way back now, mon capitan. Guess the hull of the launch was caulked better than I thought.

[A certain parrot is fluttering about town, perching on various things - houses, signs, horses, heads, y'know, the usual - caroling in a sing-song imitation of a certain young street-rat.]

Bored, bored, bored, booooored~ There's nothing fun to do. Someun needs somefin, sure! Gimme somethin' to doooo~

[The parrot does a remarkably good job of reproducing the creaking, echoing sound quality of the space. The singing, while cheerful, is a little creaky as well, and more than a little jaded.]

When I was just a lad looking for my true vocation
My father said "Now son, this choice deserves deliberation
Though you could be a doctor or perhaps a financier
My boy why not consider a more challenging career

Hey ho ho
You'll cruise to foreign shores
And you'll keep your mind and body sound
By working out of doors

[He breaks off with a weary laugh.]

Well. That didn't work out as intended.