Dear Father,
I am sorry. I have heard news of your sickness, and I know that you are desperate for an heir.
      You must understand that a life based on crime was never right for me. Scouring the seas for unsuspecting victims to loot or attack. Piracy, the word still tastes bitter on my tongue. A reminder of my life filled with unfair riches and the torture of others.
      You might be wondering what lead me to abandon such a life. It was Mary’s Grace, the British ship that you and the crew celebrated so much when it sunk beneath the waves. It haunts me, the way your men boarded the ship like rats. You ordered them to kill the king’s soldiers and women, while you took the children as workers.
     Then came the ship’s captain. You killed him in cold blood. The sword went right through his heart as he begged on his knees. I recall the crew’s cheers, but all I heard was the man’s body hitting the deck, the most deafening sound of all.
     That day was six months ago and the next time I spotted the British, I took the children and left with them. When we reached the mainland they went to an orphanage, but as I am 17 years of age, I have joined the navy.
     It is possible we will meet again. I wish you luck.
Sincerely,
Your son,
Alfred Draper