April 6, 1651
My heart has been racing fast all day. I can't believe it. I've managed to join the french frigates. After so many painful, long years of training and education, I'm actually on a ship. Not any ordinary ship, it's called the Sainte Anne. As of right now, we're going to be delivering goods to our territory, more precisely in the land known as America. Is that what's it's called? Whatever, I get to be on a ship and that's what matters.
Anyway, I'm kinda scared of the crew members I'm working with. Everyone has this creepy look in their eyes when they stare at me, and good grief does it freak me out! It's not just the crew, it's also the damned captain. He's an asshole though, seriously. He's the kind of person who just barks orders at you and if you do even the tiniest thing wrong he'll make you scrub the poop deck clean, not just one time, but for a whole week. Jees, he needs to calm down and stop being so agitated. Truthfully I already hate him for his personality, but the actual way he presents himself disgusts me. He wears so many outfits that look so horrible, a trained monkey can assort a better batch of clothes than him! I've never actually tested the intelligence of a monkey, nor seen one, but I mean really, that vomit green jacket with those mud-brown boots? Bleh! Ugh, I don't even want to talk about him anymore. His style in clothes make me want to vomit all over him, and who knows, maybe I'll make his outfit look better.
Not everyone on the crew is a total dickhead, but neither do they make any good company. This one guy, good grief he's annoying. He's quite the blabbermouth, and apparently knows every single thing about the ship. His name appears to be Davenport, but I'm not quite sure. That's what the captain refers to him as, at least. He's got a few pros, as he'll give me important information like what date is today, how much longer we'll be waiting to leave, and how the weather appears to be today. He's also one to talk about really boring things though, as he seems to have a fascination with shells, especially conch shells.
As of right now, Mr. BigMouth is thankfully, sleeping. To be honest, everyone is. It's night, and we depart at morning. But I can't understand how they manage to sleep; aren't they excited for the voyage we begin tomorrow? Doesn't anyone on the crew thrive for the adventure of sailing on the seas? Don't they think about the treasure we may find? The land we could conquer? Maybe I'm overreacting over all this, but what if they're simply hiding their excitement for the actual day we set sail? I suppose my only choice is to sleep and find out.
