Mizzenmast

I awoke late one night to the fierce giggling of a young squab I had never laid eyes on before, but who me best mate Ol' Peg Leg informed me was our newest hand aboard the ship. Evidently, while I slept in the brig, Three-Fish had taken the vessel to sea and had started taking in an early catch. The boy had landed a fine haul on only his first trip out onto the mirrored blue, in the dead of night, no easy task for a fresh grunion such as he.



Still, as I lay there in bed, sick with the Brine Fever, and the boy stood above me, cackling, I couldn't help but think that something was wrong, that this new addition to our crew, once solid and dependable as a rock, would weaken the joints of my proud and stoic band. I was beginning to have reservations.



Reservations indeed.

Bloooooo black blue.