The Pen Collecting Sailor

I was lying under a tree by the river when a boat pulled up to the dock. The captain opened the cabin door and emerged from the interior of his vessel. I recognized him at once. He was the same sailor that had docked and invited me aboard some months ago.
He wore a torn and faded cap baring a strange symbol I had never seen before. He gave a hearty laugh when he saw me and motioned for me to climb aboard. I did so and he invited me into the cabin for a glass of tea. I obliged and we were soon seated at a scrubbed wooden table, rocking back and forth with the motion of the boat.
He showed me the many pens that lined the walls of the cabin, and told me of how he had traveled the far reaches of thought to collect each and every pen, and how he was on a mission to find the perfect pen. We continued to chat until the sun sank beneath the clouds and he left port to continue his search for the pen of his dreams.