Captain’s Log, April 25.        At sea, north, north east.
    FINALLY!!! I can taste freedom in the air again…
    My mother once told her shipmate Mary Read long ago said the open ocean is freedom’s sweet refrain, spread before you like an endless table for those who hear the call. And I hear it.
    I hear it in every breath of wind, every wave that rolls off the prow, every timber that creaks beneath me. This freedom, this endless, boundless,  freedom, free to nature’s call with the bite of storm to prick your nostrils. Aye, this life!
    We put asea this morn, it dawned bright and clear. The storm blew over us in the night. I can still taste it in each breath. I think it might blow back on us, but I am beyond caring.
    My crew is nearly halved. All the women who returned with me last night I believe to be fine stock. All the ones who straggled in before midnight I think can be shaped up. The ones who showed up dockside this morn, just in time to watch us hoist anchor and sail away, I am more then glad to be rid of. One might even use the word delighted.
    There will be no room for failure on this voyage. There is never room for failure or doubt in the path of greatness. AND WE WILL BE GREAT.
    My crew will be the most fierce, the most daring, the most famous crew in the Spanish Main, and in the end, the world. We will cause men to tremble at the sound of our wind, monarchs to lay down crowns before us, and the very powers of this old world to be shaken to their core. We will be Great.
    My mother used to tell me that taking your life by the throat is the only way to live, and living like a dog - afraid of your own failure, is not life. It is like a half-turned hourglass, time neither passing nor retreating, only existing. You can never grasp that which you desire if you are afraid to reach -- life and fame are only a hairsbreadth from death and despair. Life is given to us to be lived, and not lived half alive.
    The Bonny Blood sails under those words.
    She used to tell me also, that only pain can make a real woman. She would tell me that right before she whipped me. Well, pain made me a real woman. Pain will make this crew real. I will make them real.
    I can hear the wind freshening above decks. We are in for a bit of storm, I think. Good.
    So the hourglass begins to turn.
   
    The lad was at my door. I had to go and inspect the rigging. The blacks do make a fine crew! And Mira, she is an able lass! I think with their help we shall have the crew shaped up in very little time.
    The sky darkened even while I was above decks - I only returned to grab my charts. We shall need them before this night it out, mark my words! A storm is coming!!
    I must return to the helm. 
Annette Bonny
Bonny Blood, Captain