I submit as my sample:


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By the time one of the pirates had called out land, The Archivist had just finished emptying what little food remained in his stomach. The sea did not agree with him; travelling on a ship full of cutthroats did not agree with him and his assignment definitely did not agree with him. 

It was for the fourth time since they had departed that he had thrown up a mix of fish and grog over the side the ship and he wasn't sure he had the energy to go through it once more. He slumped against the wood and looked up at the sails billowing overhead. The pirates had swapped out their signature flag, a fractured island, to one more acceptable to the locals; A mix of three shades of blue coming together in a swirl in the middle to form a whirlpool. 

Their destination had no quarry with pirates. It welcomed them, in fact, as a deterrent for even more unsavory characters. The passing ships of the royal navy would cause problems however, and the closer they were to the island the more of them they happened to come across. It would typically be an unusual sight to see hulking warships patrolling an island known primarily for its export of fungus and potent alcohol and yet the last few months had made such a sight increasingly more common.

Between ghost ships, the drowned plaguing the beaches and an unusually high amount of storms, there were plenty stranger sights to see and so despite the imminent danger of the navy figuring out that the ship The Archivist travelled on was filled to the brim with outlaws and perforating it with cannonballs would be effortless to them, their presence was welcome.
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A bit of nothing.