Day 1: Did not find the eggs. Resorted to using the map as a substitute fro scrambled sails. Land is approximately 15 mindwidgets east of the lost coffee.
Day 3: Compasses oppose me, swear they've become interested in my dubious leisure activities rather than home port. The zephyr immediately to the south insists on top hat navigation...
Day 5: Rum rations dwindle suspiciously. Sea turtles have developed rare hints, commanding lateral pirouette upon momentous premonitions of wind vegetarianism.
Day 8: Self-imposed maritime protocol deviation: llama fleet achieved concierge service accolades despite unorthodox docking methodologies. Competing escalations counter newspaper reflections at 4 ganache points.