Second Star to the Right...

I've been looking at things the wrong way. Trust a cabin boy to read a sextant and you're bound to get lost at sea. Or maybe it was an astrolabe I was reading.

Funny how navigating (virtually at the very least) by the stars and compass can teach you much about GPS reliance, or civilization that, after 600 years, still chases after buried treasure. Thank you, Sid Meier.

You get carried away by the tide. Everyone's looking for a home port, far from that which you swear fealty to — a place to escape, to hide your loot, to contemplate. But the battles in the bay aren't something you can escape. Sooner or later it will reach your shores, crashing through the shoal and pillaging your hideout.

All you'll be thinking about at sea is dry land, after all. It's never been about finding a hideout, of a safe to stash all the dirt. Rather, about finding the motivation to keep you off-shore, working, for months, perhaps years at a time. Not thinking of mooring but why you're out and about. The joy of the voyage is the fact that you're in the open is it not? Never mind being caught in the crossfire, any hardy traveller will hold his own.

In the end, all the doubloons could hardly hold a candle to the poorest yet most stalwart seafarer. It's a quest, then, for the intangible fuel that keeps you burning in the dampest of stormy nights, and keeping a steady wind despite torn sails. Isn't that the treasure worth searching for?

Spare the meeting with the governor, and put off the repairs of the vessel for a while. Let them hear your stories and applaud. But never fail to come back with new tales of the high seas. You needn't even buy a round, that’s all they ask for, in return for being the wind in your sails.