I've been at sea longer than I remember, although the ship's log tells me that it is about a thousand years. I vaguely remember being summoned to the royal court and being promoted. That was a good feeling. I was being given command of a new kind of ship - the caravel. "Where do the oarsmen go?" I asked the shipwrights on viewing my new command. But there weren't any. It seemed strange to me, but orders are orders.
"Where I am to sail?" I asked the provincial governor. "Sail west", he replied.
"But we have no maps of the west, and we will fall off the edge of the world", I pointed out to the governor.
"Do you want to meet my friend the Inquisitor?" The governor asked. I set sail the next morning. We carried a religious gentleman with us, though happily not an Inquisitor.
After many years sailing into the west we encountered barbarian pirates. I was happy to see that even with only a skeleton crew our caravel easily disposed of these scum of the seas. And strangely our ship seemed to get stronger after a couple of these encounters. And then, joy of joys, instead of falling off the edge of the world we found... "A New Land!!". We were all excited, and soon a trireme bearing messengers from the local king came to us. He offered us friendship, and the religious gentleman with us ordered us to put him ashore.
"Do we then sail home?" I asked. "No," he replied, "keep sailing west and discover more."
That was so many centuries ago. Since then we have sailed constantly. After some centuries my bosun noticed that we were able to sail faster. And my helmsman noticed that the currents were very familiar. And a message appeared to us "You have proved that The World is Round, so think no more of this foolish 'falling off the edge of the world' myth. But don't kill any dolphins or shoot any albatrosses. That stuff is still right out." We felt no elation.
We hoped that we would be welcome at home, and the sight of our home country off our port side gave us cheer. But a message from the "president" (what happened to the king?!), told us to keep sailing.
Since then we have discovered the world, always sailing, sailing, sailing. We have seen the ice sheets at the poles, and the jungles of the tropics, never setting foot on land, condemned to constant travel. Occasionally we have seen strange armoured ships of metal on the horizon. They frighten us, for how can metal float?
I am now very old, and I have criss-crossed the seas so many times. What I want most is to set foot on land one last time, to walk into a bar, and to get completely smashed. But the only orders we get are, "keep sailing, and stop asking for more orders."
Cheers!
STUPID BARBARIANS!!!!!!
