Alright, here's part two: You'll learn the rat's name.

The rat wearily eyed the ferret's wicked cutlass. There was no doubt that the owner used it often and well.
Although they were his new mates, he didn't trust them. If there was one thing he learned during his past and humble life, it was to never trust a pirate.
Even if you're one of them.
The rat suddenly realized he wasn't armed, having left his scimitar on the ship. His heart stared pounding, wondering what he would do if they attacked him.
He started as the ferret mockingly called out again.

"What are ye', a cripple? 'Urry up and git over here!"

The rat glanced up at the ferret, who wore an insolent and sly grin about his scruffy face. Thankfully, he had sheathed his cutlass.
The rat sped his pace, the dock moaning in protest. He stepped onto the boardwalk that connected the dock to the main settlement and finally reached the three. He stood silently with his head tilted downwards, watching for sudden movements. He knew they were peering at him, almost critically, weighing him out, testing him.

"There now, that weren't so 'ard, were it?"

The rat looked up into the eyes of the ferret. Or the eye. The scraggly beast must have been in a tough fight, for a sickly gash ran from the ferret's cheek to his forehead. He did not wear and eyepatch as most pirates would. A torn and hollow eye socket was all that was left. His other good eye glinted darkly at the rat. He was tall and muscular, with a broad chest and shoulders, and wore a faded red tunic tied by a frayed rope. He looked aside at the burly rat, and two brass hoops dangled and clinked together as he moved his head.

"Doesn't say much, does he? Well, don't just stand there starin' at me, say something!"

The rat opened his mouth, but no sound came out. What should he say?

"Tongue tied, are we?" The ferret shook his head. "Ye' 'ave a name, lad?"

The rat finally mustered the courage to speak.

"Doesn't everybeast?"
He nearly slapped himself. That was the wrong thing to say.

The two rats laughed. The ferret for a moment looked surprised, but he too chuckled.

"Well well, aren't ye the bold 'un! See there mates? He's got guts when he want's to 'ave 'em, eh?"

The burly rat slapped him playfully on the back and thrust into his paw a beaker of dark ale.

"'Ere lad, sit down and 'ave a swig! Us crewbeasts gotta get t' know eachother! The name's Shivclaw, mate!"
He was a huge gray rat with ragged ears and finery.
The rat let out a sigh of relief and seated himself on a crate. He tilted his head back and ravinously gulped down the ale.
The three corsairs were watching him and smiling. The burly rat spoke.

"There now, that's better, eh? So, accordin' to ye', everybeast 'as a name-"

"Clipjaw," said the rat beside him. He was a scrawny beast with light brown fur, and wore a tattered vest and a necklace of shark's teeth. A blue headband wound about the rat's head. He grinned. A scar ran down the length of his jaw. Clipjaw must have noticed the rat staring, for he touched the pink wound with his claw.
"Shark. Nearly bit me 'ead off. See?"
Clipjaw lifted his neck and pointed. A crest of pale scratches ran up to his chin.

"Lucky fer me though, I rammed me spear down the bugger's throat, an' got a lovely necklace in return!" Clipjaw lifted his sharktooth necklace and erupted into a fit of laughter.
"An' I never saw me spear agin'!"
The young rat had to smile.

The ferret who had been laughing along with Clipjaw stopped and introduced himself.
"I be' Slitfang, the capn's favourite."

Shivclaw guffawed.
"Aye, favourite deck swabber. Ye' probably got that fancy gash from moppin' the decks! What did ya do? Run into a bucket o' splinters?"

Clipjaw pounded the rat on his back and burst out laughing. Slitfang growled.
Still laughing, Clipjaw patted the rat's leg.

"C'mon mate! Tell us yer name!"

Although still slightly nervous, he quietly answered.

"Tiller."

Slitfang grinned.

"Tiller. Well ain't that pretty! Did yer mother call ye' that?"
Shivclaw slapped Slitfang's shoulder.

"Go easy on the lad, eh? He be a new beast in these parts."

"My father named me. He fished, I steered the boat."

Clipjaw draped a friendly claw about Tiller's shoulders.
"Well Tiller me lad, We'll show ya the ropes o' the place, won't we mates?"

Shivclaw and Slitfang answered in unison.

"Aye!"

Okay, that's that. Just some background info, Tiller, obviously, was not born a pirate, but you'll learn more about that in the next parts!