An age where the sea washed upon distant shores. It was no longer thought of as a square.It, a majestic ship, constructed from the finest wood in the forest. Designed for transporting goods, or doing naval battle. Built with three masts, each towering a hundred feet, and it with a fuselage of over forty cannons. A slow behemoth, of strong oak. Lumber that had been dragged to the water’s edge and built with sweat and hands. Sealed tight by rope and pitch. It was audacious, and showed little respect for an enemy-ship, to sight its sails.Now under sail of the winds, from Tortuga to Spain laden with goods to sell and barter. A voyage of several weeks. Tortuga, a port of call for pirates, swashbucklers, heathens and prostitutes. It was a safe-haven for those willing to pay the gold, in exchange for not answering questions. At any one time, ships of many flags dropped anchor. Rum and carnal knowledge was sought most frequently.Her benefactor, a textile merchant, had given her all she could. Since you refused to talk to me even at dinner last night before you went off on what I'm beginning to suspect it was a prearranged date, now is certainly not the time to talk. I want to sit down and talk tomorrow before I file for divorce. Please stay around tomorrow, Susan." What!" You're drunk on your ass, Susan. There's no sense talking to you now, you wouldn't understand a word I was saying." With that, Pete stormed out of the house to sit on a lounger on the back patio."What? Wha'da you mean divorce?" she called after him. She tried to stand up, but was so dizzy she just sat back down.A half hour later Susan followed him outside, showered and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Her eyes were bloodshot, her complexion still a sickly yellow. When she sat next to him he caught a whiff of the vomit she had left in some toilet. She started to sit down, then got up, staggering back into the house, returning a moment later wearing sunglasses.Leaning her head back, she put both hands to.
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