He simply strolled on board, rudeness and impertinence come to life, and... fondled me in a most unseemly manner. The nerve of the man.

And then he took me away; away from my lovely harbour, from all my finely-dressed sailors and soldiers who know how to behave toward a lady. Away from my commodore, who is always so proud and respectful. Oh, how worried he must be for my safety, and well he should be, for this port is... disreputable. The very water is scandalous; who knows what it is doing to my hull?

That dreadful pirate even treated the Dauntless as if she were his for the taking, climbing all over her as if she was nothing more than a jollyboat. Even now, miles from my own port, I can feel her outrage. The poor thing; she is used to being treated as a grand lady, and well she should be. She is a grand lady; not for no reason is she our flagship. No regard for rank or age, has this pirate. I hope our commodore soothed the Dauntless properly, for she does not sail well when she is disraught.

I do not like this port; I do not like being mired here between a crusty old galleon and a cheeky little sloop with a mind like a cesspool. The insolent things they say! I will remember them; when the commodore finds me again, they will be the first two ships I set out to capture.

Good; we are leaving this low place. Back to the open sea, where it will be easier for my commodore and sailors to track me down. It is well-nigh intolerable, the way these pirates run to and fro on my decks, with no discipline or purpose. But I am a ship of His Majesty's Navy, and I will not let this rabble see how they make my keel shudder in revulsion.

I must prepare for the worst, I think. I know that my men are looking for me. But I am the fastest ship in the fleet, and if this pirate has the sailing knowledge of a powder monkey, they will not be able to catch me. I know my men. My lieutenants will do all in their power to recover me and see me safely home, but I do not think they are ruthless enough to sink me, unless it meant their own lives.

My commodore, however—he would rather see me rotting on the ocean floor than captured by a pirate. It is a disgrace for a fine, sleek ship such as myself to be in the hands of these heartless brigands, and I am sure he is outraged that such a fate has befallen me. I have faith; he will do what must be done, and I will be grateful to him for it.

Though I hope it does not come to that; I would so like to see my own harbour again.