Kilnday Thirdweek, Howl's Batten, 147/32

Son of a bitch. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

Keddle. That rot-damned moaning sack of crap. All he ever did was complain and grumble, in between the odd bit of semi-competent navigation. He wasn't the best, by any chalk, but he did his job. I thought that finally, after all these years, I'd found a navigator I could stick with. One that was sensible enough not to get shot, strong enough so that he wouldn't die of some unknown illness, unambitious enough not to betray me, unromantic enough not to desert for the love of some random whore. By the warty bowels of the Allsoul, I've had shitty luck with navigators. But Keddle... damn it, I really thought he was going to be a stayer.

Turns out he isn't. Turns out Silo was getting suspicious about all those engine parts going missing. So when we set down in Jander's Maw, a half-day from Scarwater and our meeting with Macarde, Silo decided to hide out in the engine room and see what happened. Saw Keddle rifling through the spares. Followed him all the way down to the workshops in the town, where he saw Keddle selling them off to a craftbuilder. After that he came back to get me.

Keddle screeched to the high skies when we turned up at the tavern where he was drinking. Course, he said he was innocent, but if Silo says otherwise then there's no question. We dragged him back to the Ketty Jay. Me and Malvery were pretty angry, to tell you the truth. We probably didn't conduct ourselves too glamourously as we were kicking the stuffing out of him. I came close to shooting the bastard, but in the end Silo stopped me. Sure, it wasn't a lot of money, but he was stealing! From me! I mean, damn it, there are limits!

Well, I had to get him out of my sight, so I put my boot in his arse and shoved him off the cargo ramp, hands tied behind his back. He went down pretty hard on his face, but he can count himself lucky I didn't put a bullet in his back.

After that, we took right off. Couldn't stay there a moment more. Figured we might as well go overnight to Scarwater. It was close enough that I could find it myself.

It's almost dawn now. We've put down in Scarwater, waiting for the place to wake up. Later today I'll go see about ripping off Macarde. Later today I'll get looking for a new navigator. After that, I'm gonna get roaring drunk and get into some kind of fight. It just feels like one of those days.

Why me, Log?

Why me?

Transcriber's note:
At the time of writing, this was the final entry in the Logbook Of The Ketty Jay. Darian Frey was never known for his diligence, and he apparently forgot about writing in the logbook after this date. Considering what happened afterwards, however, he can perhaps be excused. The affair which followed has been luridly recounted by various pulp biographers, but I direct your attention to the only official and unbiased account of the tale, written by this humble scribe, which bears a title as honest and straightforward as the words within: Retribution Falls, available now in bookshops all over Vardia.