[He knows this can be seen by others, but chooses to write it as if it can't, as if he's just writing to himself.]

Dear Journal,

I'm still alive.

The storm was a beautiful thing, wasn't it? Beautiful and terrible, and this old fool nearly fell overboard with the sheer wonder of the thing, stopping right in the middle of trying to get the ship under control just to stare up into the darkening sky. Terrific and terrifying like a good woman, she was, the kind that might eat your heart out but you'll love every moment of it.

Perhaps that's just the way an old man like me thinks, after all.

Still.

Going out on a boat by myself might not have been the best plan after all, but if I can survive that storm, I can't be doing too bad. Guess that lad will have to wait a little longer to see himself a friendly ghost after all.

I do hope the young people made it through all right. Maybe once things settle down a little I'll take a look through and get to know more of them. Sure would be a waste to come to a whole new world and not make any friends. Right now I ought to be cleaning up some of this mess though, I guess. Sure does take a lot more work to run a ship than I'd have ever known.

-- Akabayashi