I unmoored the Frigate during me now-normal night time sleep intermission and slid from the pier into the darkness.
The moon was shrouded in partial obscurity, leaving just enough visibility to avoid the array of lesser dinghies haphazardly tied off between me-self and the open sea.
Going slow and easy, I knew some madness were afoot about a third of the way into the journey.
The back o' me tongue was flavored like parrot shite and the rudder dragged bottom, dredging up murky coils of mud that smelled of Davy Jones' cod piece.
I cast a suspecting eye at the brown bottle of suds in me non-pipin' hand. That were the only variable in the voyage.
I upeneded the vessel and finished it off, for wasting bad grog is still wastin'...
Twisting the wheel until the keel broke free, I finally left the dank cove behind.
After dropping anchor at me final destination, I made entry into the log to forewarn the crew of me discoveries.
A tangy, back-o-the-tongue note from a Kalamazoo Stout, while tasty on dry land, might have ye seeking a bar pilot once the anchor's pulled.
The moon was shrouded in partial obscurity, leaving just enough visibility to avoid the array of lesser dinghies haphazardly tied off between me-self and the open sea.
Going slow and easy, I knew some madness were afoot about a third of the way into the journey.
The back o' me tongue was flavored like parrot shite and the rudder dragged bottom, dredging up murky coils of mud that smelled of Davy Jones' cod piece.
I cast a suspecting eye at the brown bottle of suds in me non-pipin' hand. That were the only variable in the voyage.
I upeneded the vessel and finished it off, for wasting bad grog is still wastin'...
Twisting the wheel until the keel broke free, I finally left the dank cove behind.
After dropping anchor at me final destination, I made entry into the log to forewarn the crew of me discoveries.
A tangy, back-o-the-tongue note from a Kalamazoo Stout, while tasty on dry land, might have ye seeking a bar pilot once the anchor's pulled.
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