Last Orations of the Octavius {EXCERPT}

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June 18, 1762 ~ 23˚N, 113˚E

At first light, we the crew of the Octavius shall depart from this dark land and return to the noble shores of Britain. Strange forces hasten us upon our journey, but whether fair or fell, I cannot yet say. By candlelight I hereby record the alteration in our course brought about by the forces encountered only this morning in the streets of Canton.

Through fate or mere coincidence, I have acquired the responsibility of additional cargo and express instructions for its transportation. This cargo now lies behind me in my chambers, smuggled aboard only minutes ago. Even my crew is oblivious of this decision, for though I trust these men with my mortal safety at sea, I believe this cargo could corrupt even the stoutest of souls. I can only trust myself. Only I shall claim the reward that delivery of the cargo promises.

But I have far to go before such dreams can be realized. The path to fair Britain is arduous. As one who has sailed it many a time, I can attest to the countless dangers that await a vessel on that trip across oriental seas and around the southern cape. But this time, I do not intend to sail through familiar waters. What awaits us is a journey through seas charted only on fanciful maps and in sailors’ tales. But it is this route that I – the captain of this schooner – have been burdened with following. We set off for that treacherous Northwest Passage that is believed to be the doom or glory of many proud vessels.

The greatest trouble I face is convincing my crew that this route has been chosen for a greater purpose than my own lust for wonton adventure while not betraying my true motivations. Though, even I am blind to the reason this path has been chosen for the delivery of our cargo. But if today’s events have proven anything, it is that there is much in this strange land to which I am blind. What I can be certain of is that I now possess a cargo that promises incredible riches upon my arrival in Britain. Whether due to the allure of these riches or my faith in the forces exhibited to me this morning I know not, but I possess little fear for this journey. What frightens me now is this land and the dark secrets it holds. I feel some presence lurks amidst these streets, and I am quite ready to be rid of this land altogether.

My mind wanders constantly to the triumphant return that awaits me in Britain. Perhaps this will be my last voyage, the spoils from the smuggled cargo being enough to keep me fat and comfortable and well-regarded for the rest of my days. But it is here I must end today’s writing. I can hear the son awakening behind me, and the mother is sure to follow...