The Chest Is Closed

Saturday. The business with the chest is finished. No more crews going down after it, no more singing from the deep at odd hours. The captain has not said one word about it all day, which for the captain is a sort of medical event.

I will not write much about the chest either. Some things on a pirate ship are best left at the bottom. All I will say is that the crews who went after it had mostly come through the ship and the island first, and I like to think the island taught them a thing or two.

So now we are back where we began: the galleon and the shanty. Two places to be locked up by Calico Jack, and one first mate who would rather you were not locked up for long.

The captain spent the evening polishing his hat and staring at the sea. I made him a cup of tea. He said it needed rum. I said it had some. It did not.

The ship left Northbridge three weeks ago. The shanty is lonely on Lake Street. So am I, a bit. Do not tell anybody that either.