Dancing winds, frozen bows, and a restless crew made for all the excitement a Captain could handle and yet our future was far beyond what we knew we were able to withstand. I had seen many a raging sea and wrestled through them all with a dignified respect and growing affection for all those who braved the waters of this great world. All the yarns of ships laden with war time treasures and aggregated souls charting a course for glory.

The hearts of the ancient mariners swole with pride, as seaman of all sort and origin braved the troubled currents of the open sea. To hear it told from young and old, times of longing quenched in the depths of the lockers below. I had my worries, no doubt, but my passions would prevail and hopefully steady the hands aboard the Mercy. We had been ashore weeks ago in some native isle, where I’d taken me only prize, a wooden steamer trunk that had washed up on the south side of this worried shore.

Inside the antique victorian steamer trunk was a hundred stories, now lock in pictures and fancy trinkets of sort. The lady that had her was for sure a catch to be had, or so it seemed to me. A size good for a man and the care in all her detailed writings. She, like the most of us had yearned for love, and ended in loss. Well, I wouldn’t let her dream die if I could. Ya see, as salty a dog as I was, me heart was deep and privately tender for romance, that I myself had lost.