The days passed and Blurtseau filled the hours with fishing, surfing, and drinking. Then one day he found himself staring at the sea…



He remembered his first job as an apprentice sailor in Marseilles, ferrying goods to the Château d’If. Once a week for seven years he journeyed there, loaded with fruit, bread, and meat. He knew that the prisoners tasted only the leftovers discarded by the guards—rotten fruit, moldy bread, meat too rancid to be swallowed—but Blurtseau was young, and he thought only of his fortune at having secured the job. He readily accepted his nickname “L’un d’If,” given him by the longshoreman when they greeted him upon returning from the Château, as a badge of honor, and promised to wear it the length of his days. His happiest times were after he had unloaded his cargo, and his unburdened skiff could ride the winds back to Marseilles. The afternoon light made the city shine, like a crown atop the harbor, and he was struck with the irony that only the guards, and prisoners with windowed cells, could see the beautiful scene.



He also remembered his first bonafide tour, on board the Éspérance, learning the ropes and getting his sea hoofs beneath him. He thought of all who had helped him along the way, lending an ear, or shoulder, or laugh, and of those who had not. By the time he made First Mate he was sailing regularly to Tunis and Algiers, and it was then he met Pableau, the starry-eyed ensign whose heart spoke to him. A year later, when Blurtseau received his first command, he knew that the only sailor he could trust with his life was Pableau, and he hired him on as First Mate for six years in the Navy of the King. Then Blurtseau fell in love. There was a ball thrown by the King for the captains and admirals of his fleet, and all the world changed when Blurtseau’s eyes met the eyes of Blurtsoiselle. Unfortunately the prince set his eyes on the same prize, and from that moment forward the King received damning reports of Blurtseau’s conduct aboard his caravel. There were accusations of volunteerism, embezzlement and misuse of goods, and, most damning of all, faithlessness and fraternizing with the enemies of France. Soon after, Blurtseau lost his commission, and would have lost his ship if he had not got wind of the news and sequestered the vessel. Branded as renegade and outlaw, he continued to sail, flagless, with his faithful crew and trusty First Mate, in the service of his lord.



Blurtseau thought of all these things as he watched the dying light flicker on the sea. He knew that the book of youth was closed, and its pages would be consulted no more. It was time to write a new tale, sail a new sea, and find a new beacon to illuminate his possibility-filled pages…