Captain Freinhaul's Log
After more than a month's travel, we've reached the port at Cairan. And a hard month it was. The crew has suffered more than they deserve. During our first week at sea, a freak storm flooded the hold and ruined a fair portion of our better provisions. The steward's been forced to dole out smaller portions than I'm sure he'd like; there were more than a few threats to his life come mealtimes.
To add to the lean conditions, a particularly bold band of native pirates attempted to board the ship from a small canoe as we passed near the Tarken Islands. I didn't know what they were thinking at the time as they had little chance of sacking the ship. Not a one of them was fully dressed and only two of the five were armed, if you can call it that. They carried no more than roughly fashioned spears. Little did we know they were so lethal. The crew's response was expectedly concise and the attempted raid was stopped almost before it started. However, two of the crew, Barken the deck hand, and Rennet our new swabbie, sustained minor injuries from the incident. Both took ill and died no more than a day later. It turned out those half naked bastards were planning to poison us all in our sleep. They got what they deserved, hogtied and keel hauled. Some of the crew suggested less savory ends but it's important not to allow the rabble to run rampant in such situations. As it is, I allowed them to keep the hands. It's a foul practice, if you ask me, but they do fetch a fine coin if you can source the right buyer. I'm sure the old boatswain Yarik will have no trouble finding someone to sell them to here.
This is to be the first of three nights at port as the ship's cargo is sold and her hold replenished. I've given the crew their leave which I am sure they will take at local taverns and homes of ill repute. As is well deserved no doubt. I shall tend to the ships business and attempt to source cargo for our return journey.
The Cairan port is truly a sight to behold. Many times larger than any this captain has seen in his many years at sea. Hundreds of ships make landfall and just as many, with bellies full of cargo, wait at the mouth of the river. The docks churn like a well-oiled machine and the pristine city beyond glistens in the moonlight as if bathing in its rays. Yet, in my short time ashore I have seen the all but hidden evidence of the dark underbelly that bolsters any successful port. Back alley dealings, wealthy merchants treading on the less fortunate, a ship whose hold is overflowing with bound and chained folk, stolen from a far-off land. I am certain our return journey will be a profitable one, though I hope to haul a less unsavory cargo.