We're Going to Need A Bigger Boat
If any man were to tell me that I was to spend my first few days of being wealthy crawling about the dirty pubs of Shelmerston in search of a boat and its requisite captain I would have called him a fool and sent him on his way.
Yet, I found myself once again embroiled again in the intrigues of others as Patrick insisted there was not a moment to lose and that “fortune rides upon the tide.”
This statement sounds much more impressive when the cock crows at the Crimson Unicorn, and after one has drunk the requisite amount of ale.
So anxious was Patrick to embark that he hurled himself out the doors of the bawdy house and started staggering in the general direction of north. Thankfully, I managed to persuade Patrick that our first purchase should be mounts, lest he planned to make the trip by foot. So we set off this morning, I on the back of my new mount Ajax (for Buchephalus is too noble for such tasks) and Patrick on the back of his dapple grey mare Marigold and a pleasant trip it would have been too if not for Patrick’s insistent complaints to “make haste” and “bear forward.”
Haste making proved itself more or less a minor point when we began to interview our prospective candidates. By late afternoon we had had our choice of three lechers and one man painfully afflicted with the gout. It was then that Patrick produced for me our final prospect, a derelict Spaniard who had obviously washed up during the last war. His ears had both been badly mangled by musket shot and his rakish demeanor would make Jack blush in shame. Patrick, however, was insistent that this “was Our Man” and so I know find myself the employer of one Gustavo Araoz and his good (hah!) ship the Mariposa.
When I return to London I plan to put this all behind me by anointing myself in Silk. Let Patrick explain the situation to Jack, as from what I understand he hates Spaniards as they were somehow involved with the unfortunate end of his second wife.