Had the lizard just called him a child? Carrn figured he had, but decided to let it slide, now that the offending boot was back on the deck.
"It ain't about ye damaging it, scaly-one. Its about respect. Ye have to respect yer ride when out in the deeps, as it is the only thing keepin' ye from an early, watery grave." He patted the mast lightly where the lizard had kicked it, the scuff mark from the boot and slight depression from said boot noticeable to his practiced eye. "Next ye'll be tellin' me I'm bein' childish for tellin' ye all not to lean on the railin' too much!"
He turned his attention up to the crow's nest, some thirty feet of thick wood reaching high into the air between the small basket and Carrn's position. "Besides, what is kickin' it goin' to do anyhow! Yer thumps ain't gonna wake up someone sleepin' up there. Only droppings from the gulls will do that." By then, the lizard was up in the ropes, and Carrn nodded, hoping that the lizard had understood his point.
Then he had a job for the harpy girl, and he strode over to her and nudged her with his boot. If she awoke, he'd launch right into his loud orders. If she didn't awake, he would do exactly the same thing.
"Hey, bird-lady! Ye say ye have experience sailin', then get up in the nest and keep an eye on the water! Ye got sharp eyes, I'm assumin', and ye'll have to teach this one," he jerked his thumb at Scottie, "how to tell dangerous waters from the safe ones. Can ye handle that, or does it interrupt your beauty sleep!"