14th Octavus, 1647
Today I watched in horror as we took another Castillan
merchant. The Blackstones looted the vessel most efficiently as I
stood by, powerless to aid them. Why the Blackguards will not release
me I still do not know – I have promised rewards, threatened, even begged.
The small one – Aaron – simply laughs and fingers the fabric of my officer's
jacket, which he still wears. It is clear that they do not need me
– Aaron is certainly a competent navigator. I must escape.
19th Nonus, 1647
I have not written in some time for I have been recovering
from the forty lashes given to me for attempting to jump ship in Carleon.
Conrad administered the beating himself, and I swear he took unholy joy
in its performance. Try as I might, I could not keep from crying
out after twenty strokes, much to the amusement of the crew. But
my intent to escape is undiminished. I will be free of these wretched
Avalons, I will see Castille again. My son or daughter will not be
without a father forever.
7th Secundus, 1648
It is amazing how one can adjust to anything – a tribute
to the power of the spirit of Theus in all of us. Has it been truly
a year since I set foot on Castille soil? Has it truly been so long?
I was working with Aaron to chart a course this afternoon, and I realized
quite suddenly and unexpectedly that I had not thought of myself as a King's
Officer in months.
21st Quartus, 1648
Something is up – I am certain of it. Since
we captured the Vodacce merchantman, the Blackstones have been speaking
of splitting up our profits and breaking up the ship's company. The
crew is excited at the prospect of riches, but I don't trust them.
Something about the way they speak of the prospect strikes me as too jolly,
too easy. Whatever they are planning, I cannot think that it bodes
well for us.
4th Quintus, 1648
We sail an empty sea, far to the west of Avalon.
Where we are bound I know not – Aaron Blackstone plots our course alone,
and will not let me at the charts. The crew seems nervous.
I fear the worse.
9th Quintus, 1648
Last night I noticed the light on in the Captain's
cabin during the middle watch, and crept close in the hope of learning
of their plans. To my surprise I hear the voices of three men – Conrad,
Aaron and the Bosun – all singing softly! It was some sort of shanty,
and they seemed to be memorizing it. I believe that Aaron was composing
it, because he sometimes changed the words. Each of the three sang
a different part: first Conrad, then the bosun, then Aaron. I will
put it down as best as I can remember in the hope that it might prove useful.
[Unfortunately, a large smear obscures most
of the shanty.]
[Illegible line]
[Illegible line]
[Illegible line]
All but one were lost at sea
The single ship that did survive
Her men they numbered fifty-five
[Illegible line]
[Illegible line]
[Illegible line]
[Illegible line]
[Illegible line]
[Illegible line]
12th Quintus, 1648
I am doomed. I had thought the bastard Blackstones
had forgotten me, but I was wrong. They have sunk the ship and drowned
the crew, leaving only me and the Bosun alive. Myself they have stranded
on this desolate island, so far from home, and have sailed away on a bark
they had hidden in a cove here, taking the Bosun with them. Aaron
sneered and spit on me before they left. "Enjoy it," he said.
"It'll be the last water you ever taste!" I know not what I have
done to deserve this cruel treatment, but Aaron was once again wearing
my officer's jacket, which I thought long discarded, and seemed to derive
some cruel pleasure from my suffering. Conrad looked somewhat uncomfortable,
and the Bosun looked apologetic, but Aaron's word ruled, and I am now left
on this spit of sand, with no more than the clothes on my back. I
am cursed. I shall never see my wife, my child, or my land again.
Theus, why have you cursed me so?
