Thar be wind, and thar be teh Devil!

It were a tough day fer me n' my crew. Restless we be, fer the taste of adventure be rottin in our memories like a rum runners teeth. I can smell the wind, and it blows not fer us. It smells stale tellin me it be past our time here in this fetid port.

Time be nigh fer leavin, so a leavin it must be. Ports be many and scattered, so leave it to the wind we must, be it fair breezes, or be it the Devil! Away we must be!

Moab