A Year in the Open

Friday. More than a year since my log went up on the noticeboard, and I have learned a great deal about myself, mostly from strangers.

I have learned that my prisoners come in private crews, never mixed with anyone they do not know, which means every crew that robs me does so among friends. I find that touching and also suspicious. I have learned that they book me on a calendar, as if I were a dentist.

I have also been thinking about the voice in the hold, the signs on the wall, the letters that never arrive, the locker key and the wink. I have been thinking about who carried my sea chest, who built my shanty, who goes to Sydney whenever a ship opens and who knows about the noticeboard.

And I have concluded that it is the parrot.

Scarface agrees. Scarface always agrees. He is, I think, the finest first mate a captain ever had. I shall tell him so tomorrow. He was out late tonight, on watch, with a little book.