How do, Captain. We’ve a job fer ye, if yer up to it… The Admiralty has managed to cock everything up as usual… One o’ their ships, sent out on a Royal Society Expedition. Well, the Captain has managed to sail that ship straight into the shore o’ some island near Auckland ‘n’ marooned his crew… In broad daylight. It’s a 200ft cliff, I’ve been there meself! It’s not as if it can sneak up on ye. Daft bastard. Ye couldn’t make it up…

Anyway, they’ve got no food, ‘n’ the Admiralty’s feared they’ll start chowin’ down on one another when they run out o’ provisions – ‘n’ that cannibalism’s not somethin’ they fancy bein’ associated with. They want us t’ take over as many provisions as we can, t’ tide ‘em over while they prepare a rescue expedition. Put ‘oles in every Spanish galleon ye set eyes on lad, and bring me every provision ye find in the pantries. On yer way lad, this needs sortin’ quick.