Moving at a measured, steady pace, William Mycroft watched carefully as the HMS Pegasus loomed closer, eyes taking in every detail that he could possibly discern. As he approached the gangplank his stride slowed, allowing him a longer look at his new posting. The ship was, even from a glance, unlike any other that he'd ever seen, let alone served on. Armor plated, the brig was supposed to be both faster and tougher than other designs, a real lightning bruiser if he'd ever laid eyes on one. Her biggest problem, however, was coal; All that armor didn't leave a lot of room for coal storage, which is what most of these smaller ships used to keep the boilers going. Magicians, traditional thinking stated, were for Man 'o Wars and such, not for smaller vessels. Coal was plenty sufficient for them, no need to devote even one magician, let alone a team.

Which is why it was [i]most[/i] unusual that he found himself posted here. The logic was sound, of course; Without much coal storage, the admiralty needed another fuel source on board if it wasn't enough. The logical choice was a magician, but instead of sending the usual minimum of a three-man crew, they sent him. He'd had a real shock at that one, nearly choked on his coffee. The more he heard about this posting, the more he had a sinking feeling about it. Mycroft had been pretty good about keeping his head down, but Trafalgar... Captain Martin hadn't bought his explanation of his whereabouts, and they both knew it. So much for not standing out.

[i]No good pondering it.[/i]

Hands in the pockets of his coat, he noted that he'd reached the gangplank a few moments before, and had paused at the end of it. Shaking his head, as if his musings were cobwebs that he might dislodge, he began the ascent, setting foot on the deck of the ship a short time later, boots impacting against the deck quietly. The usual smog hovered about, but after a few year it was just expected. Twenty eight guns, by his count, and what looked like gatling guns in a few spots. Yes, the Pegasus was a new breed indeed. 

His eyes didn't have to roam long to note the somewhat eclectic gathering of individuals around a central figure, clearly Captain Lorraine, judging by his garb, present up on the forecastle. Better report his presence, hand over his papers, et cetera, et cetera. Faster he did that, faster he could get belowdecks and see what, and who, he'd be working with for the duration of his stay. Truthfully, the "who" was more important. He could adapt to different equipment. But these smaller ships... Well, magicians weren't usually aboard, and being a living power source on board a ship where such people were expected yielded enough prejudiced people, he [i]really[/i] hoped a lack of familiarity wouldn't indicate an abundance of prejudice. 

But, dwelling on it wouldn't change things one way or the other. Time to get focused.

He crossed the deck to the forecastle, moving at a brisk but measured pace, coming to a stop a respectful distance away, hands still in his pockets. The captain was already having a conversation; Butting in wouldn't be polite, and judging by the apparent ranks of those involved, might in fact be downright foolish. He would speak when he was spoken to.