My companions and I have signed on as crew to Captain Terrapin’s ship, Freedom. The sense of foreboding that I felt before boarding the ship dissipated as soon as we were welcomed on board. Indeed, The captain and crew have been nothing but warm and friendly to us. There seems to be an unnatural affinity among the crew, there’s hardly ever a punch or drunken insult hurled that isn’t met with laughter and more drinks. At first we thought we would have a hard time fitting into such a tightly-knit crew, but as I said, they welcomed us warmly.
Captain Terrapin and the rest of the crew have been trying to make sailors of us so that we could be useful on this voyage. Everyone seems to have found their niche, except me. Sophia has been using her magic to help calm the seas, and Nightshade was born to be a pirate, or so it seems. She has been teaching the crew new knots and ways to hold things (or people) firmly in place. Even Runt has had few problems adjusting to life at sea. Even now he is up in the crow’s nest, howling at the wind as if to challenge Ahto himself.
But Ahto help me! I have never felt so helpless, so useless, so lost in all my days! I swear the ship pitches just when I think it should roll, and rolls when it should pitch. I can’t seem to find my footing, and I’d rather not think about what would happen if I were to try to eat something. Three days ago I was thrown overboard and have been confined to my cabin ever since. I’ve decided to take the time and update my journal.
I have had the opportunity to talk with Terrapin, and have learned about our mission and destination. It seems that we are headed to the Nahuatl Jungle, a journey that will take two or three months, at least. Apparently Terrapin does some trading with the natives down there, and runs his cargo back up to the Pirate Isles before rounding the Horn and stopping off at Bloodshire to replenish his crew as needed. The jungle is a dangerous place. Still, there’s nothing that seems out of place. There doesn’t seem to be any reason for the secrecy involved, or why the crew is kept under such tight restriction while in port at Bloodshire. That in itself is no reason for alarm, but I can’t help but wonder what has happened to the dozen or so trained assassins that have seemingly disappeared from this ship.
The crew is fiercely loyal to the captain, and I can’t say that I blame them. He pays every one of us in gold every single day, right before supper. He is fair and impartial in his resolution of disputes, and his punishments always seem to fit the crime. He is a natural leader of men.
There’s been no sign of Trick. It’s unlike him to remain hidden like this, especially when the food and drink have been flowing as freely as they have been aboard Freedom. This seems to be his perfect home. If nothing else, though, he is a survivor, and I’m not worried. Perhaps a little concerned, but definitely not worried.