It was time to set sail again. It seemed like the new men had been integrated surprisingly well. That meant there were no open quarrels and the portions served by the kitchen helper to the former mutineers were equal to those of the old crew.
There were only a few goats left on the ship, but there was plenty of the dark bread that everyone else seemed to hate. Its taste had grown on Serenica. She came to associate it with the northern parts of the ocean and the Princess itself. There was a certain rough sweetness in the doughy interior, the crust was crunchy and she found herself fishing for crumbs in the fish soup that had become a staple after Little John and his untimely death. It was customary to take a piece of bread and stir the soup with it, and spoons weren't popular for bringing the food to the eater's mouth, either, people would just tip the bowl in the correct angle and drink the soup or the broth or whatever delicacy was being served. Serenica adopted these habits.
