The last day.

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Sunday the sixth day of January Seventeen hundred and twenty.

Captains Log Entry

Today sees a storm all a raging around us, as we lay in our final course to the new french port of charlesfort, on the coast of the northern americas. At our back the strange port of somerset, its ghostly windows now fading astern. I can't help but wonder what riches and pains lie in wait for us all. I have made an offer to this Confederacy which now awaits this ship and her crew. What minor cargo I carry will be of little import or worth. But it should see us through the first days in our new settlement.

This storm is of such power as I have never seen before, but it also carries a feeling with it, almost a trace of kinship, a sence of waiting, foreboding.

Sleep now beckons me, I have already given over the watch to my trusting first mate, Carl Stuart, he is a solid sailor and a sure hand to guide us the remaining journey. In him I have absolute trust.

New friends await.

Ships Captain,

Argyll Struthers, Heir to the Shire of Bute.

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Captains Log Entry

We have arrived. Charlesfort is a wonderful port to behold and soon we expect to be berthing.

We wait for the tide to be albe to enter the docks where the pilot tells us we will find a more permenant berth for the next few days.

Other ships are coming here as well, none are looking less than would be expected, the french navy patrol the area well. So far on our jounryney here we have seen no ships of ill repute. Although after my conversation with one of the patrolling captains, I've now heard many stories of piracy. Something to deal with in the future.

I have seen no ships of the confederacy, evidently they have not yet settled on a enblem, the captain I spoke to said he also did not recognise the name of any such group or society, but I only hope thier ships also are waiting like ours for the tide.

The tide has already turned. High water will be in about three and a half hours...

A.S.

Ships Captain