Right
spoiler-free
set immediately after POTC1
from the personal log of Lieutenant Andrew Gillette, Port Royal
"I rescued a kitten this morning. On my way home, after commandeering the sacred vessels from a church, setting fire to an alehouse, and bashing an old woman whose misfortune it was to impede my escape. But I did rescue the kitten, so I'm sure it's all right."
This specious (and false) absurdity comes to me now: after midnight in the solitude of my rooms; it was 'in absentia' earlier.
In the Fort courtyard this morning I attempted to counter Groves' unconscionable
(and unnatural? surely not!) admiration for that wretched pirate. But I become inarticulate and stutter when pressed by a mind more facile than my own, and Groves demolished me. He left, shaking his head at the folly of a man who blunders unarmed into a battle of wits.
Groves parroted the prevailing wisdom at Fort Charles. There will be no serious repercussions from yesterday's debacle.
Prevailing wisdom--a contradictory cliche.
Have you observed a surfeit of wisdom prevailing among mankind? But I digress.
Ah yes, repercussions. Governor Swann will certainly use his money and political influence to shield himself and his faithless progeny, and her pet blacksmith. As ever, the aristocracy will emerge unscathed by their foibles.
What about us?
Groves came to me later, half apologizing for winning an argument I started.
Then: "You worry too much, Andrew. It'll be all right."
The words are a litany between us, so often has he repeated them over the years.
Perhaps, once more, he is right.
But I don't think so.
Not this time.
set immediately after POTC1
from the personal log of Lieutenant Andrew Gillette, Port Royal
"I rescued a kitten this morning. On my way home, after commandeering the sacred vessels from a church, setting fire to an alehouse, and bashing an old woman whose misfortune it was to impede my escape. But I did rescue the kitten, so I'm sure it's all right."
This specious (and false) absurdity comes to me now: after midnight in the solitude of my rooms; it was 'in absentia' earlier.
In the Fort courtyard this morning I attempted to counter Groves' unconscionable
(and unnatural? surely not!) admiration for that wretched pirate. But I become inarticulate and stutter when pressed by a mind more facile than my own, and Groves demolished me. He left, shaking his head at the folly of a man who blunders unarmed into a battle of wits.
Groves parroted the prevailing wisdom at Fort Charles. There will be no serious repercussions from yesterday's debacle.
Prevailing wisdom--a contradictory cliche.
Have you observed a surfeit of wisdom prevailing among mankind? But I digress.
Ah yes, repercussions. Governor Swann will certainly use his money and political influence to shield himself and his faithless progeny, and her pet blacksmith. As ever, the aristocracy will emerge unscathed by their foibles.
What about us?
Groves came to me later, half apologizing for winning an argument I started.
Then: "You worry too much, Andrew. It'll be all right."
The words are a litany between us, so often has he repeated them over the years.
Perhaps, once more, he is right.
But I don't think so.
Not this time.