From the Captain's Journal

January 5, 1717

For the first time in three arduous days the lady of the deep dark blue is calm. It has been a long journey this year from Singapore, and my men are suffering.  Two fell off the rigging when a fierce gale whipped them free.  We saved Emery, but I fear Phillippe was swept away.  Seven more are in The Kraken's belly with Stuart, their lungs full of salt and their minds riddled by fever.

It is times like these I do lament the heartier, sturdier men I once knew.  While I can find no true objection to the men in my employ this season, it would seem as if they lack the will to live, unlike those who sailed with The Flying Gang.  Avast! What would the mighty Royce say of this weakened crew?  Nightshade would leave them all upon the nearest port, I am quite certain.  And Drake?  Drake would curse them for the despots they are and trade them to the nearest slaver, should one, let alone two find it impossible to hold fast to the lines amidst a gale.

But this is my course, the one I have willingly chosen.  There is no life for a seaman who cannot abide by the maritime laws or who must live with a pistol tucked beneath his head at night.  The joys were many, but it is a greater future I desire.

Richard has proven there is opportunity in a noble life, though this I have long known.  Just before my departure from London he announced he is to wed India Prescott.  It is a shame I had to miss the engagement celebration.  I should like to meet this lass who has him so besotted.  Though, I confess, I wonder how much of his joy comes from the promise of marriage or the promise of her father's significant power and wealth.

Damnation!  The men are at it once again.  I grow so weary of the constant complaints, the whining that is more akin to woman than my ears can tolerate.

For another day,

~@ Cain