HMS (His Madness' Ship) Sauzam has run-aground folks. Lost in the seas of the interweb our nefarious first mate, who is also the insane captain, and mad deck hand, struggles with the ropes (made of hemp, a superior fabric). Motivation runs low, and mutinous thoughts arise in the back of our wayfarer's mind. Insanity? Perhaps? We're approximately 75 miles offshore and we're not aground as originally thought, we're jammed on the remains of an old oil rig that collapsed and destroyed hundreds of miles of shoreline.
If our champion of insanity could see the surf on the beach, surely surfers wouldn't wear the dark wetsuits in warm water such as this, but still be coloured in chromatic shiny blackness of oil clinging to their skin, suffocating them and all marine life about. The thick oil makes maneuvering difficult, no sign of booty, treasure, and if it's there, it is buried, and out of date. We're will our victim of his own madness find himself next week?
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