Ahoy there mateys! Ye may have noticed that these here log pages have for these past two weeks remained mysteriously blank. I was not onboard to keep me charts and take me bearings! Did ye wonder where I had disappeared to while ye whiled away yer leave time in port? Did ye think ye had been abandoned or were ye too busy drowning in yer cups to notice? Well I will tell ye scurvy rats what adventures be inadvertently transpiring . . .
Ye all had rowed to shore while I be content on me ship for some much needed peace and quiet after listening to all yer caterwauling, complaining, and racketeering all those long days at sea. I strung a hammock across deck to enjoy the salty breeze and had nicely drifted to sleep when a intense squall arose, quickly turned the waters black, and caused a hundred foot swell to toss me overboard.
A great white whale swallow me up and dove to the watery depths, taking me away from me ship. Blasted whale! I had to fight me way through its belly with me cutlass while dodging all manner of flotsam and jetsam. Twas a messy bit of business. Using a salvaged rum barrel from the creature’s innards, I kicked me way to the surface only to realize that there was nary a speck of land in sight!
Undaunted, I sang some sea chanties to pass the time while I pondered me options. This drew the attention of some sultry sirens who surfaced to investigate me singing. Seeing me a fellow fierce lass and having enjoyed me more rather ribald tavern ditties (sung with gusto if not skill), they called on a dolphin to give me a ride to the nearest atoll. Obliging fellow.
Luckily this ground had enough alexandrian laurel to make a crude raft. Absent even a single novella to pass the time, there be nothing for it but to hunker down and work. Me raft was finished and I was sick of coconuts. She not be the speediest of vessels but at least the skies had cleared to navigate with the stars. I set off for me ship.
One shark attack, two close squid encounters, and three XXX later, I dragged me weather-beaten carcass back onboard. As I gazed at me ship in all her glory, I recalled the words of Matey John Masefield in “Sea Fever”:
“I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.”
Now that I have me feet firmly on deck and waters be calm, there be books to read and plundering to plan. Look to me log for more adventures next week. Arrrr!
x The Captain