"Well, as the old folk I'll take this bottom bunk here thank-you very much. Can't be doing with climbing ladders in my old age you see, plays havoc with my back." Samm replied goodnaturedly, even if it was obvious given how he darted around aboard the ships that he had no problem with them, unless it had developed in the last couple of hours. As he lay down on one of the bunks, tucking his trident underneath it he drew forth a lump of, well, something. It's corners were mostly rounded off, and its surface studded irregularly with some small, black, wrinkled-looking lumps, along with the occasional pit where one had clearly fallen loose. It was vaguely cream in colour - the uncharitable would have called it grey - and speckled with fine dots, which may or may not have been dirt. He tossed it towards the huntress. "Here, have yourself some hard-tack. Aged to perfection it is, and not a weevil in sight! It'll fill you right up, and it's good for yer teeth," he cackled as he stuffed his net into his rucksack to form a makeshift pillow.