|
The Tale of Sir Isaac Roberts |
|
|
|
|
|
|
14th May: Have launched own expedition to rival brother's. Only one ship, but wish to explore previously inaccessible patch of ocean. Looking for island chain, likely to contain vast amounts of spice if calculations are right.
17th May: Seasick. Sea life definitely not for me. Ship captain by the name of Martel tells me that most ships don't pass this way due to storms, which is why ocean had been unexplored. Asked him if it would be a problem. Martel said no, not in this season, but sailors are very superstitious. Asked him if he believed in mermaids. He told me he didn't much care since they're useless for all practical purposes. I turned away in disgust.
30th May: Have sighted land in distance, very heartening sight. Storms approaching but we should make landfall long before they arrive. Unfortunately may have to spend at least month on island. See green trees now, should indicate water and allow us to forage for food. Own food stores definitely will not last so long.
1st June: Have made landfall! Thunder in distance, but island is very tropical. Sun beats down but is not too unpleasant. Rowboat tied up in stream, freshwater. Found fruits as well, and animal tracks. Unfortunately no sign of spices. Will search further, but island is pleasant enough. Will report, may make successfully colony in future. Have tentatively named island 'Isle of Isaac'.
2nd June: People! There are natives on this island. Speak no language I know! Cabin boy found two of them, man and woman, refuses to say what they were doing but keeps giggling to himself, the silly fool. Beckoned us to village. Very primitive, small houses laid haphazardly. Rudimentary tools. Surrounded by fruit trees. Fruits very sweet, very nutritious. Will have ship's doctor have a look at them, but crew have already started eating and noted they felt full after eating only one. Tried to communicate with villagers. They seemed friendly but to be safe we remain in a guarded portion of the beach.
3rd June: Crewman not of European descent knows variant dialect of language spoken by these natives. Translation takes time, but questioning proves enlightening. Natives seem quite simple, barely above childlike intelligence, but exceedingly content. Their language supposedly is lacking several basic concepts which may impede trade when Isle of Isaac is colonised. Can easily see why natives are content; fruit, game and water plentiful, storms never reach island. Natives hold strange philosophy according to the translating crewman (name of Rosh): say that 'do what you want, nobody stop you'. Invited crewmen to take up philosophy for themselves. Will puzzle this out later.
4th June: Crewmen have begun consorting with native women. Naturally, I, being of a strict pedigree, declined to take part in this debauchery. Festival tonight according to natives. Coming of age ceremony where children become part of society and are properly able to indulge. Crewmen invited to take part and join. I didn't bother stopping them, natives unlikely to enforce anything.
Rosh puzzled out meaning of philosophy this afternoon. Apparently, no person on island is allowed to prevent another person from obtaining their desire, no matter what they want. Seems very strange philosophy, but innocent. Will make friendly trade with them impossible, of course, but they will be easily subjugated.
5th June?: after me they are after me why why why Martel never should have said he ate human oh god help me this may be last message of SIR ISAAC ROBERTS
7th June: Escaped with Rosh, safe aboard the ship! Only half crew still live, Captain Martel dead.
Ceremony very wild and amusing at first. Crewmen painted up and danced around fire, speaking rudiments of native language. Later, big feast around fire. Captain Martel asked what other things there were to eat back home. All manner of strange things, he told them. Was asked what was the strangest. Said he once tried human flesh when becalmed for a week without food. He damned us all.
Nearest native bit him in shoulder like a savage, cried out something. Rosh later said it translated to "Good taste!"
All natives swarmed upon Captain Martel. They numbered far more than us, and so we were their next target. Good god, they ripped the next man to shreds, feasting upon him like wild animals. Some tried to fight back. Natives called back to us in our own language, saying "Liar, no join, no join!" Picked up spears, tried to kill us. We had superior tactics but were desperately outnumbered.
I was separated from group in chase through tropic forest, wrote last entry. Rosh and other crewmen found me curled up in rotten, fallen log. We are now safe and heading back to port.
Naturally, we will come back. Once the armada arrives, we will have a fine colony. After all, the fruits are ever so sweet.
 Nocturnal Emissions · Thu Sep 11, 2008 @ 10:36am · 1 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
