Cal Endria's Journal: 24th November, 4169

This has been my first opportunity to record my observations since my mates and I took our leave of Sharky's crew. A journey that should have taken only a few days has instead taken almost a fortnight. But in the end we were able to make landfall this afternoon, thanks be to God and the Rusty Scupper.

Aye, that half-rotted, moribund vessel has been to hell and back. I never thought she'd hold up under such a trial, but she fooled us all and made it through--barely. But I fear that in my weariness I am getting ahead of myself. Let me go back to the morning of our departure.

 Sharky had given his permission for myself and about 40 of his band and their families to take leave of his pirate nation in order to set out to settle in an area that we had deemed suitable. The very next morning, nigh on 100 souls loaded their belongings and some provisions aboard the Rusty Scupper, the leakiest tub in Sharky's fleet, and set sail.

That very evening a storm blew up from nowhere as if by magic. This was no ordinary storm, mind, but just about the worst gale I'd ever encountered. It tossed us around like a cork, testing the limits of our vessel. Our main mast was toppled, and our compass washed overboard. We were tossed upon the waves while rain lashed us for an entire week.

Finally, the storm abated, and we were left to count our blessings. It took almost another week for us to find our way to our destination. But find it we did. 

We are now in the process of unloading. Tonight, we shall spend one more night aboard the Scupper, that is if she stays afloat. Tomorrow we shall set about setting up a rudimentary camp, then will begin the task of laying out and building our village. I shall close now as weariness is creeping up to claim me.