Don't Be So Blue

I paused for a moment, a drop of ink welling at the tip of my pen.

“I’ve never signed a death warrant before. Bit odd to be signing my own…”

Slowly, I drew the pen across the parchment, my signature a few simple loops and swirls. I took my time to clean the pen, press dry the ink, and then stand up, my shackles clinking.

“So, in exchange for not dying by the executioner, instead I die on some distant shore, after I man your third ship, what did you call it?”

Christopher rolled up the document slowly.

“The Pinta.”