Stavanger Bay there she shot poor william taylor

She dove a final time at the stick, teeth ripping at the sandblasted surface.  It was barely scratched, as all that was left was the rock-like heartwood.  Not a wiggle yet again, so she growled at it and tried to follow the branch to its source.  She plunged her face into the water, but couldn't tell much -- she couldn't really open her eyes with all the salt and sand in the water.  Ug.  Her nose followed along the surface and it just kept going.

Eventually she pulled her head out of the water, and trudged back out, annoyed.  She growled once more in its direction before looking back to Smokestep, her voice pointed, ears slicked back on her skull, It won't move.  Apparently for now Godot was giving up, but she wasn't happy about doing so.  She didn't know what else to do about it, but aside from doing a full-on excavation, it wasn't looking good.  Instead, she looked to the captain for some sort of idea.