Wheeling Gull Isle but why is the rum gone?

Ruffian did not have much sense in life – but he did have the sense to hear the roar of his Captian, and to feel the prickle of fear that came with the anger. Wide-eyed, Ruffian hadn’t kept tabs on the gateway to the island, and so when Ferahgo appeared, voice blazing, Ruffian reeled from the aftermath, trying to string thought together.
 
Why was the rum gone? The rum was gone?
 
Glancing down, he noted that aye, quite a bit of the rum was gone. Some of the berries lay lumped together in the middle, some juices still cloaking the seal hide. If anyone could make proper rum, however, it was Ruffian – the fruit had been selected at only the best locations as a mixture of berries, and even some crabapples. Sporting a bit of juice from his previous fermented batch as a starting culture, his batch had been underway for a bit – and aye, it tasted wonderful.
 
No sooner did the drunkard notice just how much he had drank and Ferahgo’s rage did the wolf crumble his behemoth form down in pardon. “Cap’n,” he rumbled, his words a slur as he blinked. “I saved ye th’ best,” he attempted to soothe – the fruits themselves would hold the most juice and fermented alcohol, and would taste just as sweet. An ear flipped to the sound of a woman, and as some strange girl came storming out to him, Ruffian cast a glaring scowl in her direction – he answered to none but the Captain. “Now lass,” he began with a darker rumble, his tongue slithering out between his lips as he licked his teeth. “Who the f—“ Hiccuping roughly and cutting his words short, Ruffian continued to scowl at her. “Are ye?”