The sea, the ancient sea…
And mighty deeds were done! We swarmed them under, our swords four hundred strong, indeed, swamped their feeble cannon, and though we lost a score of men, gained as many yet again, freed from the lash and tackle of the Navy. We swore them in, and signed their pledges, and gave each man a vote and aye a share. Hobbs (that is the Quartermaster) saw them to their bunks and slotted them each a slot upon the duty roster.
Four days out, and we have had good sailing, good winds and good luck. Halfpipe (that is the sailing captain) knows his trade, and works us hard enough but no harder. So many hands make for easier shifts, though we are sore strained to catch our feed. Were these waters not so heavily trafficked we would be thin-bellied indeed, but Mickle (that is the battle captain) is canny and brutal, and can scent blood in the water like a shark. He is much better than Sturges, who we voted out in our assembly and sent down into the waters where he can entertain the fishes and the barnacles with his roaring.
Tethys rings us round, the patient, unsettled sea…