Captain’s journal 14th January, 1674
G
reetings dear readers, this could well be my final entry. I’m currently languishing, well sitting really, how does one languish? I digress… I’m currently sitting in the cells below the Governor’s Mansion in Jamaica writing with a borrowed quill on parchment begged from my jailer. This is supposed to be my last will and testament, although what use someone would have for sizeable gambling debts and my collection of comedic wigs is anyone’s guess. You can likely deduce from this that my attempt to access the Governor’s library didn’t exactly go as planned. All began well, as instructed I left the ship in brilliant disguise as a member of the clergy (it’s astonishing what you can get away with when people think you have the ear of the Almighty) and made my way to the Mansion. Introducing myself as the
Reverend Summer, I gave the austere-looking head of household the parchment with the disc in it that Mother gave me. Looking at the seal on the parchment, he very quickly went from austerelooking to harassedlooking and finally settled on weary resignation. “If you’re going to impersonate a Minister, you should probably remove your earrings.” This was a fair point. Maybe it wasn’t such a brilliant disguise after all. “Tell Ethan this settles our debt and please be swift. The Governor is in residence.” Ethan being Mum’s male alias, I agreed to pass on the message and followed him through the kitchens then to the library itself and what a library it was. A panoply of volumes stared down at me from every corner, nook and cranny. If the answers to the supernatural puzzle
10 Pirate Plunder c May 2019
plaguing my crew and I weren’t in this splendid collection I can’t imagine where they would be. I had barely started to peruse the shelves when I encountered my first bit of bad luck, the Governor along with a small retinue of servants walked into the library, straight over to me, and started quizzing me on what brought me to his home. Fortunately, I am an accomplished and inventive liar, and have been ever since my youth spent hunting unicorns on the isle of Atlantis. The second bit of bad luck came in the form of his maid-servant, while I was busily inventing Reverend Summers back story in conversation with the Governor, I became aware that she was staring at me. As our eyes met there was a flash of recognition. Kate whose dress I wore… oops (Editor: see letter to Kate in issue 7).
“Captain Burt Lancaster! And he’s wearing a dress again!” Leaping on to the study table before the great double windows, I bowed theatrically as the Governor called for his guards. “This be no dress dearest Kate, it’s a cassock’ and saying so I jumped through the glass window and made good my escape. That was the plan anyway. Instead, I tripped on my cassock and jumped headfirst into the nearest wall. When I awoke, I found myself here. So if this is to be the end of my adventures, please know this of me: “I regret nothing! I’d do it all again twice as hard with a tankard in one hand and a cutlass in the other. Life is for living and boredom the only sin. Well, that and badly thought-out disguises. “Farewell my friends and raise a toast to me when the rum flows.”
