Trente struggled greatly as the boat bucked, and the splintered crack came form below them. Moving to the centre was smart, he could agree with that, but staying in the boat was the best any of them could hope for at the moments. His years at sea, and training in poise helped, but not enough from stumbling into somebody. Nai'shee, they fell together, then her body seemed to spasm a moment, feet connecting firmly to what remained of the deck beneath them. Consciously he was confused, worried, but somewhere he knew in that instant was she would do. One hand grabbed unrelenting to the side of the boat he had be tossed against, the second made a staggering attempt to reach out toward her. His hand miraculously managed to grip her, but not tight enough. She was gone, and any remnant of calm within Trente was instantly obliterated.
Splitting up was not the answer, the Konti was right. And Nai'shee, as brave as she thought she might be was taking the role of a leader, and without warning had left them all. He couldn't help himself, as his hand was left empty, he shourt, "Fool!"
The boat still shaking, water pouring in through the hole he knew full well the ship itself was doomed, even if no more damage we to be taken it wouldn't float, not any longer. Trente asked himself if this made it useless, the answer was a clear no. It hid them from the sight of these things had a chance of injuring the assailants as they ripped through it, and they still had the oars. Yes, the oars.
He wanted to save Nai'shee, he wanted to dive in after her, prepare to fight. He knew he couldn't he knew this would end in both of their deaths. More importantly, there was leadership, strength to be found in the numbers upon the ship. The Konti above all else knew the waters, and she had commanded them closer. And such an order must be followed. His free hand fell and touched Yuna, looking her over. She was fine, no blood, and so he firmly squeezed her as he hoisted himself into the middle with her. The hand we was using to steady himself fell firmly on one of the bench seats within, and he stared a moment concerned into the quickly flooding hole below them.
"Yuna, the oars. Untie them, use them to prod at the thing. Girls-" the boa began to still, not from time but the weight of water inside steadying it. "Help Yuna. Boys, if the boat rocks again jump toward the side that goes up. Put your full weight in it." His command wasn't to save the ship, it was to make sure they didn't all get bucked out of their floating coffin before they got their oars loosed for some element of defense, as pathetic as it might be.
He then grimaced, he hated the idea but he knew what he must do, and it didn't involved sitting comfortably in the middle of the ship. Somebody had to get above the the water, look down and try to see these things coming. The glare from the grey clouds above were blinding when hunkered down near the floor of the slowly sinking boat. He would have made the Konti do it, but he knew very well he was probably the least likely to be kicked from the boat while standing. He could also prepare to lunge down at the creature from up that, as the only one with a noticeably suitable weapon.
His mind did not stretch beyond the situation, there was nothing but the barrage from below, the diminishing wood at their feet, and the four beating hearts around him. He wished he could forget about Nai'shee, but that was impossible. He preyed they knew what she was doing, and he vowed he would do his best to pull her out when she finally pushed herself too far. Idiot.
"Requesting permission to stand and scout for the creature, Yuna." The request was slurred out as quickly and clearly as he could muster, as he began to realize some aches across his body. Being banged around had hurt him, but no more than some bruised. So he studied the rocking of the boat, and if Yuna gave the affirmative he stood up, slacked his knees letting the boat sway beneath him, and proudly moved to the bow of the ship, searching the waters below for some sign of their creatures. From there the glare would be less, and he hoped for a clear shot now that he had modes far enough from the group toiling below. From there he would finally extract his blade.
The ocean belongs to Laviku, salt and water. Though Trente knew only one of life's liquids mean shyke to the god, he knew this well. Blood. His or these creatures would quell the waves below, and nothing short.