Mr Pligitt

Dear Diary

Choppy waters tonight I noticed. Boat rocked a bit. Often people feel very queezy when the boat rocks. Especially Tubby; he threw up the night before. But he didn't see me, which is just as well. Nobody ever does, really.

I must admit it is a tad lonely spending all my days and nights on the specially made crow's nest atop the mast, so much so that sometimes I even wonder if they know I exist. I think Hans  looked up my way the other day, almost as if to say 'I know yer up there Mr Pligitt, and ye can come down any time ye please." Or perhaps he was looking at the seagull that just deposited on his face, it was hard to tell.

As I write, beneath me, I can almost hear a ghostly wail. Though perhaps it is the wind.

I do see plenty up here. When it isn't too windy (like tonight) and the sails get in the way, I mean. I see all the goings on. It's just as well that a seagull managed to steal an empty diary and carry it all the way up here, so now I can write about it all.

Those trusted seagulls - always bringing me objects, and of course providing me with a source of food. Of course, it is very hard to find organisms up here, and the occassional seagull that flitters by on some unknown sea-based errand has to make do. Unfortunately, the wind isn't very nutritious.

Nothing else comes up here. Perhaps, if I tried shouting down now and again, I might remind the crew of my existence. Actually, now I think of it, I can't even remember even joining the crew at all. And for that matter, I wonder what my first name is...

The End

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