Wheeling Gull Isle but why is the rum gone?

He would go to collect his skull, he had decided. But the tide was high, and the sea and the air was too cold, so he passed his time by pacing his own shores, until the tide receded and passage was made available. There on the other side of the plank, however, would be something to distract him: one of his crew he had left behind to bring a supply of rum. In the dead of winter, the ingredients to make it were nigh impossible to find, so it had been of utmost importance to him to bring some along, and he had tasked his crew with figuring out how to do so. He had gone long enough without a dose of alcohol, and so was with a brisk, jaunty step he made his way to the wolf.

He saw the pirate had procured a seal hide to use to transport the rum. Good. He saw that almost all the rum was gone except for the mushiest bits that stuck to the hide. Bad. Then he saw and could smell, as he drew close, that his crewwolf had helped himself to more than a fair share. The worst!

Ferahgo roared, bristling and spitting like a scald cat. "WHAT HAVE YE DONE!? WHERE IS THE RUM? WHY IS THE RUM GONE?"