It look the crew of the Privateer less time than the Good Captain had allowed them to repair the damage caused by the storm. He’d initially allowed them three days but after inspections in a safe port down the coast of Salvador it was clear the damage was less than first thought.

The original thoughts the Good Captain had about the man with the pentahook being some sort of sacrificial lamb for an army of men ready to attack the crew had been proven to be nothing more than thoughts. After the old man was shot by the Good Captain the land surrounding the port was searched and not a single other soul was found, not even the presence of a soul was found, in fact the entire area appeared to have been void of humans for many years.

How the man with the pentahook had survived living in the port was as much a mystery as how he came to be there threatening the crew because the crew found no hovels, no tents, not even a small cabin. They also found no food or fresh water within the surrounding area, but perhaps the strangest thing was that when the pentahook wielding man’s dead body was dropped into the sea next to where he fell he simply drifted away. There was no seagulls, no birds of prey, the warm dead body simply floated out to sea, the body was not even swallowed up by underwater seas creatures.

Instead of worrying about the dead man with the pentahook or the lack of sustainability the area around them held the crew busied themselves with the repairs and within no time at all they were sailing out of the port and headed north east with the intention of reaching the port of their intention three days earlier.

As they sailed across the clear blue ocean the Good Captain wrote some notes of his own, the kind of notes he might one day hand down in a ledger to his own son just as he himself had received from his own father.

How did I come to this place and time? How did I come to any place or time on my life? Well that be answered in three simple words. I sailed here! Some may say I sold me soul so that I could tell ye this tale, some may be calling me a liar of the highest degree. But these words are not for those, these words are not for anyone other than you!

The Good Captain looked at the words he’d scribed on the page. He did not consider himself a educated man, well not the kind of education found in books and to him it showed in his words. However he was a pirate captain and a successful pirate captain, scribed words were never meant to be his forte.

I sold me soul to be telling you this tale, a tale I lived like a mariner’s rime. It does seem that my life has been a never ending quest for treasure and like my father before me who left his own words scribed on a page I am leaving these words for you.

Many a time I relied on the tides to guide me ways, but just as often I used the stars in the night sky as me guide, but at all times the voyage was onwards, forever onwards no matter where I was headed. I could set a course for the deepest of oceans, I could set a course for the raging seas. I could set a course unto the land of ice, or the land of sun, it made no difference to me. I might have been forever on a quest for treasure but I was also on a journey so sail the endless oceans until me days was done.

The Good Captain read over his words, they made complete sense to him and he was happy with the way they were progressing. The words were however little more than an introduction, words to begin a story, the idea in which he’d gotten from his father’s ledger. However they were also words that did not seem complete because he did not know how to finish such an introduction, in fact he wondered if maybe the introduction would ever be finished.

As the Privateer sailed upon the South Atlantic Ocean, riding the ebbs and flow of the crossing tides the Good Captain sat at the rear of the ship, up on the poop deck, alone and writing. He read the words he’d scribed three times before deciding to leave them unfinished and move on to another story.

On a new page he started writing again…

There have been many legends told of a land where the rum flows freely. A land where to plunder is as common as taking a breath. The largest number of these legends tell that one must sail all seven seas, place their feet on all three continents and feel the icy waters of the Arctic north before they can find such a land. But as I scribe these words upon this page I can surely assure you that not only does such a land exist but it shall be easier to reach than the legends report. In fact should you read these words and find within them their hidden meanings you will for sure find but a short cut to this wonderful land, because I myself have not only seen this land I have lived there.

Should you ever find yourself on a quest for gold, should you ever find yourself with an insatiable need for jewels or anything else of value, you would be wise to follow my lead and follow my words. I can show you a short path across the seven seas and I do this for you because you be my flesh and blood.

A moment before the Good Captain placed his scribe down and shut his ledger he wrote the words…

Follow my words and I shall be leading you to Treasure Island.

Previous Pirate story here.