Captain’s Log, Tide Unknown

By the seas and the stars, I’ve sailed every cursed cove from here to the far ends. Three times we skirted the Maw o’ the Kraken, an’ thrice we found naught but barnacles an’ bilge. The crew’s gettin’ restless, mumblin’ o’ cursed gold an’ maps that lead in circles.

We dropped anchor at Dead Man’s Reef, where the moon paints silver on the waves. Sent two lads ashore an’ they came back with naught but sea glass an’ tales o’ ghostly lanterns in the fog. The bosun swears we passed the same isle twice, though the compass claims we didn’t. The cook says the wind talks, but only in the tongue o’ the drowned.

A sloop we crossed paths with told o’ a hidden harbour at the fifty-third turning o’ the coast, marked only for those who know how to read the signs. She flew no colors, an’ where her flag oughta be was naught but a torn rope flappin’ in the wind. I searched her stem to stern, but all she held was the groan o’ her timbers an’ the sigh o’ the sea.

Mark me words, some treasures be best left to the deep. The sea don’t give back what’s hers without a fight.

Cap’n Marlinspike