Little hasn't thought about it. He's got no bloody clue what they're going to do when they run out of food. Honestly? A part of him is pissed off at that. You're a fucking lieutenant! And you haven't even thought about something he, a caulker's mate, already realized? Pathetic.

But then again, he already knew he was better than these men. That he was more capable. This only proves it.

"You'll figure it out soon enough," Hickey says, with a little shrug. "After all, the tins can only last so long. And even if you do manage to find some natives, trade for food, you've got a few dozen men left. You won't be able to feed them all. You'll need to make some choices."