The Caravelle family were proud but downtrod.
Hunted for food to fend of their hunger.
Watched as a star came falling to sod,
which a hole through the world it did tear asunder.
The family so proud rode out to the fire.
and passed through a gape in the air and the soil.
“Its a deamon from hell?” we at once did enquire.
For the ground was all burnt and the pond water a boil.
But Father lurched forward as if drawn to a drain.
And grasped in his hand the stone as it glowed.
“Its talking to me,” he stated insane,
Then picked up the stone and to us he showed.
“It says we are home, for here is our hearth.”
And then set down the rock, which dented the dirt.
A retainer walked up, and dug at the earth,
but soon coiled back, his hand he had hurt.
“It ways so much more, I’d say fifty ton.’
like a boulder he could not as much as disturb.
Then Father returned and lofted it on.
“its as light as a feather, as the smallest green herb.”
From that moment forward and from those days so old,
Did the Star Stone Scepter only call to its kin.
Only Caravelle can lift it, command it and hold,
No imposter can wield it, only family can win.
Caravelle Family Saga.
I write this for all of you now who may not believe that this old man once sailed on a sailing ship, felt the salt of the wind swept sea on his lips, and lived life on the raggedy edge. Now, in my old age, clothed in silk with Mitre in hand, that may be hard to believe. Once long ago I came to Caribdus from Earth, as many of your fathers and grandfathers had (although not too many of the Originals, as we call ourselves, remain). Almost immediately I fell in with a sailing crew, who God Almighty propelled on a sacred mission. We didn’t know it at the time, but we had been selected to challenge the Sea Hags, to stop the flood of this world. We fought many battles side by side, and in our final battle, at the Devil’s Cross, we finally defeated the hags, with the help of so many. With the help of Jomba Town and Tulago (now known as the Maori Federation). With the help of the Atani (now the Atanic Empire, full and glorious once again as it spread into many of the Receded Lands, lands that were reclaimed from the receding waters). From Admiral Duckworth (God rest his soul), and from the women of Asy Cay, including Annie Mason, (who you know as Madame Daxson).
I often find myself longing to sit on the deck of Liberator’s Wrath once again, to talk to my many friends who we lost long ago, and that thought brings a smile to my face. So as I write this, I raise a small glass of Scotch (who would deny me one small drink, after all, I am the Archbishop!) for my friends Crow, and Liam, and Daxson, Mordecai and Brachus. They are all gone now, having lost Captain Daxson in the final climactic battle when we defeated the Caribdus Inquisition naval forces off New Madrid. I leave this letter to you, Mi Abuela. As a Masaquani, your long life promises that you will outlive me. Just as well, for I miss my shipmates. I end this with a quote from one of my favorite English writers, Shakespeare:
“Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.”
Archbishop Rodrigo Salvatore, June 19, 1611 AD