Wheeling Gull Isle blackened was the banshee's wail

Their claim no more than a day or two behind them and already Roach was working to explore the isle. It wasn't much as far as islands went, but it would suit the crew decently. Or so he presumed — really, he wasn't quite one to tell. There had been minute chaos here and there, no doubt as others scuffled and bickered; there were exclaimations of joy in their wake as well. Whatever treasures they had found to plunder were bound to be fought for and truthfully, he tried to stay out of it. As far as Roach was convinced he wouldn't find himself entirely comfortable in their lodgings until he was certain what intentions were around him.

And so, he skirted the sands of the rocky shores, following the terrain as it varied both in width and height. Today's venture had brought him to the eastern shore which he had crossed only once, and at night. The midday brought it into a new and literal light and already he found he was discovering one of its little gifts ot them. Mussels had revealed themselves in the absence of the high tide and as hunger gnawed at him, he had set to freeing some for himself.

flogging molly — salty dog