You're struck by the fanciful notion of flooding the hold with the seemingly limitless amount of seawater you can vomit. This idea is quickly dispelled by the rational part of your brain which promptly knocks it out with a wrench.
The rational part of your mind now in control, you crouch down and begin heading to the fore of the ship and up the ramp. It's much hotter up here and you can now see above deck. You spot what was making that thumping earlier.
Nearly 14 feet tall and covered with hair, a giant with the head of a boar and the body of a man is lumbering towards an equally massive lever to your right. You hear him grumbling loudly about "damn mortals" and "cheap-ass sleep powder" as he pulls the lever. There is a loud clanking of gears and machinery below deck and, looking back down the ramp, you see a magenta mist drifting down from the ceiling. The angry mob you started seems to calm down when exposed to the mist. Turning your attention back to the giant he turns around and begins shambling back to the stern, massaging his temple.
It is extremely hot. You are wet. There is a strong aching pain in your chest. The hold appears to be calming down.
Torso: None
Back: None
Arms: None
Legs: None
Gloves: None
Feet: None
Left Hand: None
Right Hand: None
Other: None