Day 3

Island Arrival

Captain’s Log, 1140 hours

“Ahoy, pasta-lovers! Our mission is finally a sauce-cess!”
– The Enthused Quartermaster

The sun blazes overhead, revealing an island coastline shaped like a questionable noodle bowl — the perfect destination for our midnight pasta cargo.

Status

• Purple sails flutter in the island breeze
• The octopus figurehead is oddly shining—some claim the wooden tentacles are still dancing to an unseen rhythm
• Slight tang of marinara lingers across the entire deck

Incident in the Crow’s Nest

Upon our arrival in the harbor, the lookout nearly toppled from his perch in a fit of excitement. A mysterious figure on the dock signaled with a lantern three times—followed by a deafening call of a heron in flight.

The lookout swears the bird cawed in perfect Morse code, as if warning us of impending calamity. Moments later, a sudden gust toppled the spyglass stand, sending it clattering down to the quarterdeck, just as the heron sped off with a triumphant whistle.