He was sure that the beam was inordinate for blue water sailing. They were a wide ship and with the limited quantity of sail board they'd be cutting too much drag. He worried, though perhaps just worried as he looked upon the under-deck portion of the main mast, that a stiff wind would break the mast for want of being able to capsize the stable vessel. Their speed mattered, but only the in its capacity to get them out of trouble spots. Rarden could not begin to panic about their travel time or what provisions they had when the task of keeping a boat alive with such a skeleton crew was what they faced. The worst case scenario would be ending up dead in the water, they could avoid that because of the amount of islands they'd be near in the trial phase of their journey. That sole fact was his controlling solace as he paced aboard the interior, triple checking that everything he had prescribed had been brought aboard and stored properly, typically by his hand. Not so much satisfied as accepting, he arose through the deck hatch and searched briefly for the captain, who seemed content to pose on the deck. "We're ready to embark whenever Fitch shows up, Louis," he said, presenting a lackluster salute that was the only imitation of his father's he could manage.