Blurry Sketch of the Island

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Blurry Sketch of the Island

Blurry Sketch of the Island

Bloody weather. It's got me well and truly stuck, but that's no matter. The chest is buried, and that's what counts. Those filthy bums want to split the loot equally! They can go to hell! Now they will guard my gold forever. Once the rain lets up, I'll make it to Tortuga and hire a new crew. Or buy myself some land—house and servants included. I should also thank the apothecary. He recommended a fine remedy. Very effective. The gold can stay put for now—gives me time to come up with a suitably tear-soaked tale for the Brethren of the Coast. Spaniards attacked us. Or the English. Makes no difference. If only this wind would die down. It howls and bends the palms so fiercely that I start seeing… things. If I hadn't killed my own men, I might think they were still here. Watching me. Alive.

Category: Story