"That sounds like quite the experience. Somewhat reminiscent of a cleric-choosing, but not enough to be decisive.

"'Demons' where I'm from are a kind of being from the fiendish planes which takes nourishment from mortal suffering and generally seeks to cause more of it. Among my previous duties was fighting them and opposing their influence on the Prime Material. Only a handful of the most powerful self-style as gods, but they have few worshipers among the living. 'Angels' were in many ways their celestial counterparts and longtime foes." A pang of absence, acknowledged and allowed to fade. "They would usually say which god they serve, but in a world with only one Good deity, that might be unnecessary."

A pantheon of Evil gods could perhaps explain why the Good one hasn't squashed the monsters yet, but he notes the differing connotations between "one God" and "pagan deities" and suspects there's still a communications gap. He asks a few follow-up questions.  

"Would you consider 'monsters' to be 'demons'? Do you know of any demons by name? Approximately what fraction of the population gets a vision? And to be clear, it is uncertain what force prompts the visions?"

"I don't think the Church's said about monsters being demons or not either. Like they might be but normally you'd expect demons to like, tempt people to sin and stuff, not just chew them up. They might be more like magic bears or something. I know a few demon names like, uh. Beelzebub? Mammon? ...I think I know more than that but not off the top of my head. I don't know the fraction, it's not most of us, it's like... there was a girl at the nunnery who said she got the chance but didn't take it, and... I heard a rumor that the butcher's third daughter took it but she didn't have wings or anything so I don't know how she would have hidden it, maybe she had scales or something all over under her clothes?... and there was the spinster who lived all by herself and people came to her when they needed magic, she had four arms... but most people don't. And yeah, it's just the stars and ourselves, no - explanation."

He doesn't recognize the names, but he commits them to memory.

"Magic bears? And are the extraordinary physical traits mandatory or merely popular?" 

"There aren't magic bears, I just mean, if bears were magic, they'd magically bite people and wouldn't be demons. No specific thing is mandatory but you have to do something, or it goes away."

How curious. A Chaotic Good god of beauty, maybe? Granting suitable mortals power would be in character for some. The existence of a Church without clerics who know themselves to be clerics is also very strange. Two different gods, one Lawful, one Chaotic? "I see. I would like to speak to a representative of this Church at some point, I think. You also said you can do magic if you are pretty enough? Could you elaborate on that?" 

"Like a priest? Sure - I mean there's different kinds but whatever kind will probably be able to answer your questions. Uh, my magic is this," she appears a hailstone in her palm. "And I couldn't do it if I were dressed in rags and had... soot on my face or something? I have to look nice and the nicer I look the more of it I can do."

"Ah." He looks up from the maps and smiles. "You must be quite powerful, then." 

She giggles. "I had a stylist help out a bit before setting off with this ship."

"They did an exquisite job. I particularly appreciate the frost motif." 

"Yeah, I was doing the fabric in like, a marbled pattern at first, but that was dumb of me."

"Learning the particulars of a new skill is rarely easy, even for those with an instinct for it. I had terrible taste in humanoid clothing for decades." 

A small exertion of will renews his human form, but the act reminds him he's on a time limit. 

"I'm going to try out a weak spell for identifying magic." He flicks a tiny thread of soul to cast detect magic, and pauses. Then: "It tells me you are strongly magical, but not made of magic like a summon would be, and that your clothes are magical conjured objects." 

...huh. The hailstone doesn't appear to be magical. It's just ice. That could have...implications. 

"The ice isn't, though. Is it common to be able to create objects out of nothing? And may I ask you to make another hailstone?" 

"Oh, sure," she makes another one. "I think most magical girls don't make new things? I mean besides clothes and stuff, we can all do that."

"Thank you. Hmm. That doesn't look like any spell I've ever seen. More like an unstructured supernatural ability." And all their magic works like this? Curious. 

He's still on a time limit though, so he checks another map. "May I ask you to explain America, England, Ireland, the other places I see here? Are they regions or political entities, how are they organized and governed, and such?" 

"Oh boy. Uh. England colonized America but then America rebelled and they're on their own now, a bit before I was born, I forget when exactly..." The rest of the geopolitics lesson proceeds gappily at about that quality level.

He seems delighted anyway. He notes the gaps, but it's still way more information than he had before.

After about twenty more minutes: "Thank you, Rebecca, this was enlightening. I would repay your kindness, and that of your Captain and crew. For all aboard the Shotley, I can offer healing to the sick and injured, favorable winds, and protection on the way to England, if you believe such an offer to be wise. I am in your debt as well, if there aught I may offer you personally in thanks."

"Gosh, okay, there's some men laid up what with one thing and another and I haven't got the slightest bit of healing myself and I'd love not to go it alone against a sea monster if we run into one."

"To the sickbay, then?"

"I guess so!"

She knows where that is and leads the way.

He introduces himself to those present. "I offer magical healing to any who choose to accept it."

About how many patients are there, and what proportion of obvious injury vs disease?

There's a man down with ten lashes, some of which are threatening to become infected. Everybody else has garden variety issues like diarrhea or a nasty cold or a twisted ankle or a broken finger.

A handful of cure moderate wounds takes care of the injuries. He doesn't have remove disease, but he does have the positive-energy sledgehammer that is heal and there isn't much that it can't handle. Three for the worst of the diseases, he'll reserve one for emergencies, and one to the...lashed man.

"Those don't look accidental. Disciplinary action?" He's seen plenty of harsh discipline before, but it's still slightly alarming they'd risk infection over it. 

"Yeah. I don't recall what he did," says Rebecca.

"Drunk on duty," supplies someone else.

That doesn't seem horribly disproportionate, and he's still a stranger here. He doesn't comment further, and instead excuses himself to return to the upper deck.

As he prepares to depart: "Rebecca, would you convey my offer of escort to the captain?" 

"Yeah, okay - are you going to be a swimming dragon or a flying dragon or what -"

"Flying dragon! You'll see."