Well, it looks like Jack’s bringing a spring on his cable again, mate. That damnable lubber of a wizard sets me to minding the most dullest practice this side of Davy’s and this after a night of full-healthy carousing in celebration of me new found appointment, too. I just barely gets in from a long and lovely evening at the Platter, me deadlights not rightly open yet when this fella says, “sit ya down there and watch this here ‘speriment. And don’t let nothing happen to it.” Meanwhile there’s this table full of shiny widgets just whizzing and sputtering and lulling a man half to sleep with wonderment . Well,Jack got to watching the wrong ‘speriments and next thing he knows, he’s flying through the air, covered in grey bilge-filth with three pudgy wee demons chasing right after. So the whole place is bilged on her own anchor, so to speak, and Jack’s getting chased around by the wee fatties when, thank the lady, a crew of big folk more’n ready to help a poor bloke out and run them demons through and through. Then the bilge-filth itself rises against us. It’s about this time that your boy Jack was feeling like the wizarding world weren’t his port of call after all and mayhaps it’d be best to weigh anchor. Seems that old lubber wizard agreed and sent Jack on his way without so much as a thanks for dealing with the fat devils.
As it turned out, the crew that wandered into the fray were looking for the Platter and, as I had me leave to go where I pleased again, I decided a nice draught would do me right and I showed them the way. While I’m procuring a bit of the bumbo and a wee clap of thunder for meself, the crew goes and finds out the whereabouts of their own quarry and, as they say, “no prey, no pay,” Jack ambles along to help out. I’ll tell you the tale of that bit of merriment soon enough.