Alfred shot the healer a derisive look at his question. "Of course I can," he replied, honestly offended that the man even felt the need to ask. The damage to their main sail would impact their speed, but it wouldn't entirely cripple his ship. The Voyager was built for battle, and she could operate through a good deal worse than this if it came down to it (not that Alfred had any desire to put the principle to test). And even if she had been a much less capable ship, did this man even know who he was? Alfred had, infamously, survived being shipwrecked in the mountains of South America. He was hardly going to roll over and die after one well-placed blow from a sea creature. He was a survivor, and nothing if not resourceful.

Sterling seemed to be on the same page, at least — hopefully between him and whatever sailors Alfred had who could make themselves useful with a wand, they'd manage. Sailors didn't always even have wands, since this was one of the careers that didn't necessitate a magical education, and those who did might not have them on their person or might not know any particularly useful spells, but there would be at least a few hands to assist in a crisis like this. "Alright, I'm bringing her about," Alfred called out to the two on the main deck before dashing back up the ladder towards the quarterdeck and starting to bark out the necessary orders to maneuver the ship the way he wanted her to.