Approximately 200 miles from nearest land
Over the past few weeks on the Sweet Revenge, there hasn't been a breath of wind. Food and water are low, and we have about two hundred miles to go until we reach our next port. We found a stowaway recently. He is Spanish, and was stealing our leftover food. His name is José. Reluctantly, we agreed among ourselves that he should stay on board. I have a grasp of Spanish, which turned out to be beneficial. The boy didn't help us at all with rowing or cooking; he was lazier than Peter! On that note, Olivia, Lexi, Dylan, and Peter are all being equally helpful for a change. There is a good reason.
A couple of days ago, we were having a break from rowing. It was noon, and Olivia decided to cook a new meal. But no sooner than she went down to the hold to get food, she came up hollering, "That Spaniard is hoarding our potatoes!" All of the crew, including me, went down to the hold and saw it was true. José was cowering down, trying to cover the lids of some empty barrels we had brought to transport wares from the New World. Inside the barrels were stuffed all of the potatoes we had brought.
I asked him (or demanded to know, depending on how you look at it) what he was doing. José answered that he needed to take precautions against scurvy. He would steal all of our food to save himself! I had enough of him. I knew that a punishment was needed, so I ordered a flogging. If that didn't get the message into his thick skull, nothing will. Peter and Dylan are now being helpful around the ship again, they're probably frightened of me by now.
Oh, it's time for the afternoon rowing session. We have a long way to go. At least, José now helps us as best he can.
One more left!