CHAPTER 2 : FOOD FIGHT

In the morning, another lovely day as before, perhaps a little bit hotter with less of a breeze. Perfect swimming weather, although I don't swim. If I am ever in the water, I swim like a horse for survival.

We had breakfast porridge, and some took sugar cookies, and pretty much everyone enjoyed a cup of coffee.

We gathered our utensils and some men had equipment. And we took our row boat dinghies to shore. We had 6 to be exact and took turns rowing from shore twice to the ship and back.

We left 25 men on the ship, and the rest of us, about 193 were on the beach, rocks and rowing to shore.

Everyone plucking at fruit and digging at roots. A few had stash maps of before. Some were climbing 3 coconut trees. We were stocking up. At the beach we had 52 boxes to be filled with resources.

We had four boxes of wood. These boxes were about the size of half a man and as broad as 4 men in width.

We took stones for spare anchors and weights for balancing as some fell in the ocean a few months before during rough weather.

As our stock boxes were about 32 boxes supplied I decided to wonder off a bit as many decided to do.

I heard a commotion. Smeathe, the one pirate man, was having an argument with Raelph about a silver necklace that he found by a tree root.

I decided to not get involved, but the swearing echoed and shortly after a few sword fights broke out about who backs who in the argument.

I go up a tree and pluck some bananas that looked like mangoes, to be honest.

"Here! Throw me that! I'm on my way to the cargo!" Richochet shouts at me.

I toss him the mango bananas, which he catches in his shirt. Voops! Raelph runs past and throws Smeathe with my mango banana.

Damn it, a food fight.

We played like this until late afternoon with some having had fetched ammo from our stock/cargo boxes. We only had 25 boxes somewhat filled left.

We all were sticky and soaking in fruit and flies and I had my face sticky with pressed banana mango pieces. I felt overjoyed. But we had a problem it would be evening sooner than we thought and we haven't stocked up yet, and it all needs to be rowed back to the ship....

I ran still, through this little river and my legs had 5 leaches which sunken-ed my eye sockets. I decided to push on, fetching wood as much as possible. Everyone followed and started stocking up again.

By 6pm, we had all 52 cargo boxes fully stocked and 3 were being rowed to the ship.

We made 4 big fires and went fishing in the rocks. I took off 56/83 leaches from my legs throughout this escapade.

That night, we had a beach meeting with 83 men on the ship. 4 row boats are floating in the water. Taking turns upon when who is at the meeting.

We were eating fish and calamari and drinking our 4th last stash of rum and purple whiskey.

At the meeting it was decided that we would sail to China and that we were to obtain at least 73 women as the men haven't had a soft touch in over 4 months.

Drinks all around. We danced and cried and were jolly as a sailor boat.

Early 4 pm we heard cannon shots from Golden Horn and we quickly got in our row boats and went back to our ship. Leaving nothing behind but perhaps a broken piece of glass.

We hoisted our black and purple sails for the evening, stitched fixed with a yellow meter by meter cloth on the corner, stealthily if you please. And drifted past the canon ship in between the shore and the ocean to where they were sailing.

We suspected we knew who they were, that they could have been none other than Blackbeard and his mates.

We nearly scraped Maroontov on the rocks by Golden Horn; luckily, Smeathe cried out about his mother vibing him before drowning. And we let the ocean pull us back deeper into its mischievous waters.

That night the ship was quiet. A creak and a queek was silenced with cloth. We were quite close to the coast and Blackbeard was a flame a way.

Just a few hours later, the sunrise and the men were dried out and hungover, sleeping and laying about all over the ship, 4 were vomiting from the border railing. And a theme of misery and deadly nostalgia is felt through the ship. No one said anything, or else an attempted slap would have seized their way.

We painfully changed our sails back to the white ones and decided to fly our Maroontov flag which has only been hoisted 4 times in tough tidings.

Just a normal ship, passing the coast. Nothing to see. Nothing to do. Or take?

We hear some more canons happening on the coast, but they're not aimed at us.

We float by, nipping a bit, but no one vibes a soul.

We do this for about 5 nautical gradients. And hit no wind south of India somewhere. This was about late afternoon 5-16 days later.

The reason why I say that. We were drinking the trip away, having drunk 2 more of our last purple whiskey and rum cargo onboard whilst sailing.

We all ate some bread. And decided to wash ourselves clean. Hoisting ocean buckets and having a wash on deck.

We took out our fishing gear and 68 of us stood by the border railing fishing, if it wasn't to the chef's satisfaction we tossed the fish back.

We fished for 4 hours, having a blast but somewhat of an unspoken disapproval. I could feel a stir happening. Someone must have felt unsatisfied...

That night with difficulty I took candles to the hammock area and tried to get everyone's attention. The moment I did that, Pob looked at me with a swollen bottom lip.

After loads of questioning and looking for solutions to make ship life better Pob spoke up and said he wants a bigger blanket in his hammock, so I fetched my mother's linen curtain and gave it to them from what they made 6-9 more blankets of.

Peaceful was the evening but 6 were sitting with their weapons and knives in hand looking to mutiny myself or Pob.