Ship's log Entry 2245

The morning was clearer than it had been in months, as if to mock us for the past night. A rough storm hit us last night. The ship held, of course, but the crew is rowdier this morning due to lack of sleep. I too could use some shut eye. I've changed course for a tiny island on the horizon, to give the crew a moment to enjoy themselves before we head to Neverwinter. It's good to remind them of the joys of "privateering" once in a while, so the departure from the city won't fall as hard on them. The rations seem to deplete faster when the crew is unsettled. Especially the drinks. Buzzard caught a strange fish this morning. Bacon, the cook, tried to make something out of it, but it deflated like air when baked. The remnants had to be thrown away. Little John dropped ANOTHER compass! The damn clutz. He's good at navigating though. Ill bolt the next one down near the rudder. Damn tired of paying for compasses. Luckily he's too fond of the maps to ruin them as well. Damn expensive those.