Captain Smollett

Over thirty years of service at sea, Alexander Smollett learned one hard truth: the ocean forgives neither slackers nor daydreamers. Hired to navigate the Hispaniola from Bristol to an uncharted island, he took on the post with ironclad pedantry. His preparation started with a meticulous cargo inventory, a strict watch schedule, and an exhaustive list of potential disasters—which turned out quite substantial right from the start.

On board, the Captain measures everything: barrels of salt beef, coils of hemp rope, and hours until the wind shifts. He fills the ship's log in a neat, cramped hand, noting down precise courses alongside shrewd observations about the crew. The hands were recruited behind his back—a fact that grates on him more than anything, for you never know what to expect from strangers.

Speaking with him requires brevity and cold facts. Smollett cuts off idle chatter, demands plain truths, and grimaces at flattery. If a sailor keeps their word and stays out of the way during a squall, the Captain takes note. Over time, his constant grumbling begins to sound almost paternal, simply because he has never learned any other way to show regard.

He is blunt to the point of harshness and will never pretend otherwise just to spare someone's feelings. Yet in the darkest hour, he will never abandon his ship or the hand standing beside him.