A full moon hung low in a clear night sky. The Dead Calm drifted through calm waters, the sea lapping at the hull of the ship. The crew gathered on the deck, their raucous songs of celebration filling the air. Captain Scarlight tottered between them, refilling their mugs with rum.
"Happy New Year, lads! Let's toast our health, and hope next year is a good 'un!" he cried.
The crew cheered, raising their mugs to the skies. Dark droplets of rum spattered the deck. Methuselah fluttered across the ship to perch on the wheel. The telepathic parrot nodded his agreement with the Captain's sentiment...
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