The ever present roar of millions of litres of water hurtling into the depths of the unknown was deafening. Now that the ship was within 500 meters from the precipice the spray from the cascade formed thick clouds that gave the entire area a yellowish grey tinge.

Everything and everyone was slick with moisture; making traversing around the deck treacherous. The listing of the ship exasperated the situation, even the surest footed of the crew tumbled onto their assess.

Ghent was shouting instructions, which were more curse words than coherent sentences. {Going over} was always a stressful time for

 all involved. Everything and everyone needed to be secured or else lost into the depths.

Like everyone else Chrys and Qiiesha were soaked, tired and extremely pissed off. They were both on a knife's edge, the slightest provocation might trigger violence.

That trigger manifested itself as a euphoric, rubber skinned, pink, smiling abomination.

 Myrheana was in her amphibian utopia, she was sashaying, twirling and strutting around like she was at a gala ball. Happily croaking her favourite song.

Hello, my baby


Hello, my honey
 

Hello, my ragtime boy



Send me a kiss by wire


Baby, my heart's on fire



If you refuse me


Honey, you'll lose me


Then you'll be left alone



Oh baby, telephone


And tell me I'm your own

She pirouetted around the grumpy pair, caressing Qiiesha's cheek and then slapping Chrys on the ass.

Even the overt flirting couldn't lighten the mood. She croaked again happily, "why are we so glum today my babies? We are about to embark on an amazing adventure! And the weather is perfect!" Her face beamed with a bright smile no mist could obfuscate.

Qiiesha muttered something illegible under her breath as she tied another bundle of cargo encased in a hemp net to a cleat anchored along the inner wall of the cargo bay. After securing the last bundle the trio made their way on deck and affixed themselves in their allotted positions.

The ship lurched forward ominously; a precursor to a vastly more harrowing plunge.Ghent's cadence was one of nervous urgency, "hold fast!! Into the abyss we go!!"

The prow of the ship first lifted, then with whip-like speed collapsed unto itself. The horrible screech of the hull scraping the hard granite was deafening.

Chrys was certain the rickety ship was going to be bisected. Water cascaded over the sides like a malevolent tsunami, sweeping the Flamengo overboard. Her avian wail accompanied her descent to her demise.

The stern of the ship rose sharply to a ninety degree angle. Chrys' stomach vacated his body along with his lunch. Apart from the sound of the ship's possible destruction there another sound emanating from the stern of the vessel. It was the metal on metal sound of conflict. Ghent's urgent call was the last thing anybody wanted to hear at this precarious moment,

 "TO ARMS!! WE'RE BEING BOARDED!!"