Back
Our ship was wrecked during a violent storm, I'm told. My mother was able to get a shore with the aid of the Dolphins; however, died a year later from an illness that had been plaguing her ever since that night. In my mother's Journal, which she gave me just before she died, it tells me what had happened to my father. Apparently the day before the storm a fellow seaman hadn't been paying attention to what he was doing and ended up clouting my father on the back of his head, also sending him over board. The man didn't realize he had done this so my father wasn't missed until much later. The man remembered something jarring a beam he was holding. I was adopted by a native family, after my mother died. And spent many years in the quest of knowledge, wisdom, and those little fruit thingies.