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I seen my own blood more times than I cold ever count, but seein' the ragged mess that just come up out of me lungs just now is the only time I ev'r been afraid of it. I guess I should be gettin' to the last bit o' me story.
Me and me crew were trapped down here, never to see the light again or some rot. We tried diggin' out. We tried blastin' out. We tried callin' to the nines and the daedric princes for help. Nothin' worked. Some o' the men went crazy when we figured out that there were no gettin' out, but most of us just accepted what fate had dealt us. We made the hulk o' the Black Flag into the best home that we could and tried makin' a life of it down here.
We had plenty of stores with us and since most of the crew were killed in the fight, it was more than enough to go around. I will tell you though, that you ain't known suffering until you ate nothin' but hard rations for twenty-some years. All the pain I ever caused anyone has been paid back to me tenfold in havin' to eat the same filth every day for the whole time I been down here.
Then Grim died off.
Grim was the first and one by one, the boys had been droppin' off. They all got the same sickness I ended up with. We buried 'em when we could, threw 'em in the water when we didn't have strength to bury 'em. Finally, we jus' made 'em walk to the far side of the cavern a couple of days before the sickness ran its course.
I'm the last, an' I suppose that makes sense. The great cap'n Dugal, defeated by Fasil Umbranox and buried alive forever. I wonder what became of Anvil. Prob'lly let it burn and swept the ashes into the sea. Umbranox prob'lly went back to the Imperial City to pat himself on the back and be rewarded with lands an' titles.
Like I said way back in the beginnin', I don't expect nobody to ever read this but if by chance someone does find my carcass down here in this pit, do an old seaman a favor. Track down whatever descendents [sic] that fat old sack Umbranox may have and tell 'em that Torradan ap Dugal says hello.