"Ship astern, aft starboard," a voice echoed from aloft.  "Three masts and runnin' full!"

     Captain Morton grabbed his spyglass and moved to the rail.  Steadying himself against the firm railing he peered toward the horizon and searched for the approaching vessel, hiping his eyes would quickly adjust to the morning glare that was just making it's presence known.  He frowned when he finally saw what he was looking for.

     "What is it, Captain?"  Mr. Deprior softly spoke by his side.

     "It's her," he replied, lowering his glass and pondering.  "It's the Merriam!"

I was born in the year of 1282, in the very early spring, just outside the Sicilian city of Palermo, but had no recollection of it since my father had fled with his small family soon after my birth.  Though the province at the time was mainly Sicilian in race and culture, it was then ruled by French monarchs, whose presence often caused an air of resentment amongst those whom they ruled...

"Listen my infant ones," father would dramatize, waving his arms frantically while in the telling.  "We fled out of fear for all that was ours, for our very lived we would forfeit if it were not so.  Oh, the death that rained about our very feet that day!"