Seventy days until we reach Key West.
The storm caught us and blew us off course, or rather, blew us right on course. Our journey parallels the Black Swan's exactly! Poseidon himself has intervened and though this gale be fierce, we persevere with all our might, sails furled tightfisted, as we be tossed about this way and that like a toy boat on an endless ocean yet knowing that where we be headed be our fateful direction.
Alvida the Pirate Princess be mystically connected to her ancestorship of the Ancient Mariner. Me own parents be dead now, for almost as long ago as the Black Swan began her journey into the unknown sea. An orphan I am. No family- no mate, no child; Utterly alone and lacking connection.
What are me anscestors singing to me? What be the vision I have been crying out for? If they have contacted me, I did not listen and would not hear: Too outside meself to see what is and what always has been. I have this feeling rising, that like Alvida, somewhere in me lives a warrior. Lo! And an artisan, storyteller, and weaver of words and pictures. The ancient ones have spoken to me in signs and symbols I pretend not to recognize. Me father, I know, has been talking to me- pounding on the door of me heart and soul for some time though I answer not.
I be not lost, though I act like it. As if I do not know me way. As if I be blind to me vision. As if someone else far away held the key. No key be necessary, eh? Me own life be the vision quest for this sailor man. Not a solitary existence on a mountain top. I have the power of me bloodline, and it be time I start consulting it.
Me Brethren be counting on me to find the way.
Your Servant, Captain Billy Jack Wordsworth