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A tiny little port called Marystown. You recall it being a small, but lively little port town, populated by thieves, whores, and pirates. Your kind of town.

You flip to the next page of the Journal.

April 4th, Our Year Of The Lord, 1771

Captain's Log: We expect to cross paths with the Dutch tomorrow. As our Navigation officer as well as Captain, I'm confident in our path and position. Of course, the Dutch may not be exactly where we want them, but I'm sure they'll be close enough. After all, they can't well expect to make money if they can't Navigate!

Some of the younger lads are getting anxious. Can't be helped. I'm sure the older salts are getting a kick out of it anyway.

Going to get an early night. By tomorrow eve, we'll be rich as Kings, for at least a week anyway.

Bob Hope.

April 5th, Our Year Of The Lord, 1771

Damn that thieving son of a swine what sold me that Manifesto!

The whole thing was a set-up. There was not a single Merchant vessel there, but rather FIVE Dutch Warships! Blood and damnation, I never thought I was enough of an irritation to them that they'd come after me, much less plan a reverse ambush! Using an empty galley as bait, then swooping down on me from behind that island... I'll be damned if I don't make him pay.

We turned to run as soon as the warships showed themselves, but they managed to get a few shots in. We lost two crewmembers, and old Will lost his leg. I fear the worst for him.

We also lost a pair of cannons, but those can always be replaced. For now, we have to outrun those Dutch.

Bob Hope

...Shit. Well, that starts explaining what happened. Read on, or continue to search the room?

Find a piratical cage to put the pages in. We may have caught tinkerbell or somesuch thing.

Buh?

You decide the hammock might come in handy if you can find a large pole (or if your island sprouts another tree), so you remove it from the wall. You go to open the chest, but you can't open it because it's locked. Confound it.

Since you can't open the chest, you decide to try reading the book. You flip it open to a dog-eared page.

April 1st, Our Year Of The Lord, 1771

Captain's Log: Managed to get ahold of a Dutch East India Company shipping manifest and discovered the route it'd be taking. Sneaky bastards. Well, this one won't get away from me either. The English are paying me right well to ransack the Dutch, and so long as the money's good, I plan to keep doing so. Told the boys we had another haul to look forward to within the month. I wouldn't be surprised if I could retire in a few years. Not that I would. Ha!

Leaving Port tonight. The best spot to hit them isn't far, so we'll be floatin' light, except for a wealth of cannonballs. Don't want any surprises if they have more warships than the manifesto claims.

Bob Hope

You glance at the map. An ornate pin marks a spot about 4 days sailing southeast of a circled port town. You're starting to recall things better now, and the pin marks the ambush point you'd worked out for those greasy merchants. You also notice something is disturbing the pages of the journal. It looks like something small inside the book.

Keep reading, or what?

You decide the best way to honor the memories of your fallen comrades would be to rob the sea-dogs blind.

You make your way to the crew quarters, and begin your search. Aside from the smell of pirate, blood, and salt water, all you find are some tattered cots, several knives, two more pistols, a small leather pouch of powder and shot for the pistols, and a small flask of rum (some scallywag was holding out, apparently). Well, and several dead bodies. But I have no idea what you'd want those for.

Nope. Booze is in the food stockpile, and I have my 2 stills set for constant brewing, and I have a wealth of empty barrels. No burrows set either.

Oh well. Spring came, and with it, melting ice.

You grab the defeated coconuts from earlier, and use them as flotation devices as you strike out for your poor broken ship. They don't seem to be helping a lot.

But that's okay. You seem to be a decent swimmer. You're pretty tired by the time you get close to the boat. Around you float dead bodies. As you search for a way into the ship, you contemplate that knowing how to swim is considered bad luck, as it tempts the sea.

Seems to have worked out pretty well for you.

You spot a hole in the side of the ship, partly underwater. Do you wish to swim through, or attempt to get back to the island?

You wander back to the island, and attempt to punch the tree into wood blocks.

...Your hand hurts now.

(I was thinking golden age of piracy, which if I remember correctly was around the 1770s?)

Ah, yes, that's right. Your name is Bob Hope, the French Englishman Pirate Extraodinaire.

As you climb up the tree to beat down some coconuts, you wonder to yourself why you're on an island by yourself. At first, you question the possibility of being marooned, but you have two pistols, rather than the customary one.

As you reach the top of the tree, and prepare to lay the smack down on some coconuts, you see a ship, half sunken and beached on a rock, filled with holes by cannon fire (probably the dutch East India company. Jerks.), and definitely abandoned.

Damn. You're pretty sure that was your boat.

Done. Unfortunately, the ink is magma, and the typewriters melt, and burn the hands straight off of your monkeys, causing them to suffer always, unable to die....

I wish I had super strength!