The pirate crew of the The Pink Daffodil were a rather sorry lot. Collected here be their private musings.
Monday June 12th, 1719
Me thinks it be time to admit the truth. Well past time, if a crusty seadog like meself is still able to be honest with himself. As I pen these words across yer page I be cringin’ with the most terrible shame. But here it be:
I should never have let me mother name this ship.
“It be her dying wish,” I told meself. “How can I refuse her?”
Arrgh, I should have found a way! Told her I’d plant those bloody flowers all around her grave, may she rest in peace, every blimin’ spring! Or re-christened this poor thing the moment Davy Jones stole her last breath!
But I could hardly hornswaggle me own mother, now could I? So me and me ship were doomed before the wine had dried on her bowsprit. A pirate ship named The Pink Daffodil? There was no hope of attracting the men of ill repute needed for some right proper pillagin’.
Me crew I sail with now… ye won’t find a sorrier set of corsairs on any ship fit to sail the seven seas! Sprogs, the lot of ‘em!
Me First Mate, Bobby? He wears glasses! I found 'im this very morning reading and writing poetry, of all things! I should have keelhauled the lad the day I first laid me eyes on ‘im, but nary another soul had applied for the job.
Do ye think the First Mate on the Silent Death wears spectacles? Do ye think Blackbeard had any buccaneers nicknamed Fluffy or Baby Doll? Or that Morgan’s crew insists on scheduling daily sea shanty sessions? I should walk me own plank and be done with it.
But I be too much of a coward, so this ship of bloody fools sails on, to blunder into another day.
Yours in misery,
Captain Sandy R. Bottoms