11 June 2027
Friday. I am a man of letters. My log, my wanted posters, my orders to the crew: all in my own hand, with flourishes.
Tonight a crew came aboard with only one strong reader among them, a quiet lad of about fifteen. The others were visiting from overseas and had a little English and a great deal of enthusiasm. I thought, here at last is a crew that will be undone by my prose.
The lad read. The others listened, pointed, fetched and carried. They worked like a proper crew, which is to say nobody did everything and everybody did something. They were off my ship before dawn, and I swear the lad was doing my voice.
Scarface says one reader is plenty for my ship, as long as the rest are willing. He says the speakers tell the story in English too, so the ears do some of the work. I asked how he knew so much about my speakers. He said he had a cousin in speakers.
I have begun writing my orders shorter. Duchess prefers it. She eats the long ones.
— Captain Calico Jack, Terror of the Seas (all of them)
