Sandro considered the dripping girl. Her eyes downcast, the wreck of her dress... Still she managed to be attractive. Her way of speech suggested she was a slave perhaps, or had been once. "You are welcome. If it were inconvenient, I would have left you on the plank," he said casually. It wasn't entirely true- unless the survivors were Ghiscari he didn't see a reason not to help. Or at least to present them with the gift of mercy.
"A blanket," he requested from his manservant, "and water, to my cabin." He looked at the girl and offered her his arm. Slave or not, it didn't do to offend the gods by treating their sendings rudely. "Come, you are distracting the crew and that would be inconvenient. I'd hate to have to drop you back in the water."