The steam-driven water-wheel churned the salty waters, driving the wooden ship deeper into the mysterious mists. At the prow stood the famed Captain James Harrogate, majestically gazing at the hidden horizon. His first mate, Blind Gracky, scuttled from a door on the side of the bow over the railing, feeling his familiar way over the fibrous deck with his six lower hands, until he bumped into Harrogate. Feeling his infamous cutlass with a three-taloned hand, he paused a moment.

”...what in th’ Nine Hells are ye doin’, bucko?” he chittered with his strange jaws.

The captain stared a while longer, then deigned to reply, “I am inspiring the crew.” The spider-man almost lost his grip on the boards as spasms of screeching laughter exploded from his breathing holes. ”...I fail to see what is so funny, First Mate Grackiol.”

“Well * hrar-hrar *, judging from th’ dampness of th’ air, ain’t nobody can see ye!” Fresh laughter burst forth from the strange mixture of exoskeleton and endoskeleton, to James’s displeasure.