Day Eight Hundred Seventeen #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Watching the ships in the harbor last night mesmerized me. Their lights traced ever-moving, intricate patterns.

And at the same time they spoke of the affluence and commercial power we saw reflected in our surroundings today.

Quasimo took us through this area of garden-like estates, or palaces (for lack of a better word). We saw no one except at a distance, gardeners at work or servants of some kind.

Quasimo had us stop for a simple meal at one whose owner he knew. The master was away and the servants knew not to refuse him.

All was well until the time of our leaving. One of the servants noticed that Quasimo no longer bore the mark.

We ran.

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Day Five Hundred Eighty #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We took on some cargo unexpectedly.  Actually we had carried it here. The owner, one of the refugees from Stan’s tropical island requested passage and transport of his belongings.

The port authority granted him permission. And shortly after loading was completed we were cleared to leave.

The Captain didn’t waste any time taking us out.

We felt all eyes trained on us as we passed the warship. To our relief they remained in place.

Two other ships departed at the same time. But they soon split from us to take a northerly course.

We were all alone as we headed south.

Our passenger, Mr. Kagi, asked for an audience with the Captain. He proposes we make a run for it.