21 October 2026
Wednesday. Somebody has been reading my log. Worse, they have put it on the internet, which Scarface tells me is a kind of enormous noticeboard that everybody reads and nobody tidies.
Very well. Welcome, reader. You are holding the private thoughts of Captain Calico Jack, terror of the Caribbean, scourge of the shipping lanes and owner of the finest hat afloat. Wipe your feet. Do not touch the parrot.
Here you will find the truth about my ship: the prisoners I have taken, the prisoners who have escaped, which is a separate and much longer list, and my investigations into the voice in the hold. You will not find where my treasure lies, how my locks open or the way off my galleon. A captain does not commit such things to paper. That is what memory and suspicion are for.
Scarface, my loyal first mate, says he does not keep a diary of his own. He says it while holding a small book behind his back. Sailors are such private creatures.
If you wish to be my prisoner, the management will take your booking. Arrive early. Bring a crew. Leave your hopes at the gangplank.
— Captain Calico Jack, Terror of the Seas (all of them)
