I told my dear, dear friend Natalie just yesterday that I wanted a pair of brown plus fours, the kind Tintin wears, because if they were good enough to last through his numerous ventures and adventures, I don't see why they shouldn't serve me just as well. And do you know what she did? She wandered into the nearest vintage store and bought me a pair, and knowing she cannot keep a secret, she told me immediately. (Read here.)
I shall now be properly outfitted to look for a ship, a gallant sea-worthy vessel to bring us this much closer to savage waters. I have already put together a skeleton crew. Natalie Moore is my first mate; Matt has already signed on (every ship must have at least one midshipman called Mr. Higgins), and I have yet to ask Fran, though I'm sure he'll accept because he seems to be the sort of fellow who likes the occasional maritime hijinks, and more importantly, he once dressed as a gondolier, which leaves me in little doubt he can convincingly portray a sailor.
Matt and I discussed our route. He thought the Caribbean and Spanish ruins had been done to death, and suggested we hunt for viking treasure in Newfoundland or seek a lost Phoenician colony in the Indian Ocean.