Four men on the port were looking for a penny stuck in the sails. It was the 4th Annual Whale Hunting Organization of America's Penny Party. Hidden somewhere on the great masted ship was a penny and there was a great amount of backslapping and thumbs-upping to whoever found it. It was generally a nice evening, plenty of deep flavored drinks flowing. Gave everyone something to think of fondly, and drunken stories to recount through the long winter months ashore before the ships went out again toward Greenland, toward the Horn. The first year, the penny (different penny) was pinned with putty to the wheel, but each year had been more and more challenging. Stuck with candlewax behind the shipmaster's ear, hidden in a cluster of barnacles on the hull. This year it is between the biggest and second biggest toe of the baldest, biggest cook, but they're up in the mast for now, searching for that tarnished penny. It's all in good fun. No matter.