Room for Ten

Tuesday. Counted heads at the shanty door today, as the captain likes a tally. Ten. Ten prisoners, one booking, one very small beach hut.

They all fit. I know they all fit because I built the place, and I built it roomy on purpose. The captain asked why a hideout for one man needs space for ten. I told him a pirate captain should be ready to entertain. He liked that. He thinks he is very entertaining.

What I did not say is that ten heads make light work of a locked room, and that a crowd of prisoners arguing over a map is the happiest sound on any island.

They asked if they could bring an eleventh next time, a cousin. I had to say no. Ten is the most this hut can hold, and the captain counts. Bigger families take two rooms at once and race each other to the finish. The cousin will survive.

Note to self: hide this journal better. The captain went through my sea chest this morning looking for his good hat.