One morning Edgar walked the sandy beaches, a glass bottle green with algae was pushed by the waves to his feet. The wax seal was faded, but there wasn't a crack or opening in sight. The paper inside crinkled and tore as he retrieved it.
A crude drawing, of a sailor securing ropes was framed in delicate lettering. "Ale in the hull, I'll be there when all's asleep. Raise your sails, lower your anchor, and rest your ship in my bossum tonight."