It was a clear day, and the sun was shining.

I had slept late, and I stepped outside with sudden energy, bent upon making up lost time as befitted a dweller on Endeavour Island.
And when outside, I stopped short.

I believed my eyes without question, and yet I was for the moment stunned by what they disclosed to me.
There, on the beach, not fifty feet away, bow on, dismasted, was a black-hulled vessel.

Masts and booms, tangled with shrouds, sheets, and rent canvas, were rubbing gently alongside.

I could have rubbed my eyes as I looked.