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April 23, 1677

Silence and other thoughts

It seems the days pass much faster than they ought. It took nearly two days to discover Patrick behind the bookshelf, mewling like a broken kitten. The heathen, having his choice of literature to keep him company, forsook the Holy Book and instead was found perusing a stack of racy pamphlets that Jack had picked up from the docks.

Of the “debacle” I should not say much more than I find these customs both impudent and ridiculous. Having bled my country til nothing was left but her bones, these officials seem intent on assaulting their own citizenry.

I find myself in a malaise. Wealth has not brought with it contentment, and I find myself spending more time poring over papers and receipts than visiting the bawdy house. I begin to understand Jack’s nature more by the day.


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