“Bring me the star charts!” roared Captain Sterling. He raged about his cabin, looking for things to stab. Nothing presented itself.
First Mate Jenkins, recognizing the captain’s mood, stood outside the door. “Don’t think the star charts’ll do much good, cap’n.”
Sterling threw a rum pot at the door and cut a candlestick in half. “Damn your eyes, Jenkins, bring me the bloody charts! When we get lost, we look to the stars!”
“Have you looked at these stars, sir?”
Sterling hefted his cutlass, then stopped. “Why?”
“Well, for one thing, they’re purple. For another, they move around. A lot.”