“Gather round ‘n listen me young pirates, time has come fer me t’ tell ye me tales.” The Good Captain said as the crew formed a circle around his table. It was a large crew, but it was also a large room and the Good Captain had a loud voice. “’tis a grim legacy o’ these pirates I once knew. Torrid tales o’ how thar lives did cease t’ be.”
The crew of the both the Privateer and the Revenge were enjoying a tipple or three of Buckfast Powersmash in the tavern of the distillery that created the wonderfully powerful and hypnotic brew. It was at the request of the owners that the crew partake in drinks at their tavern.
It might have seemed like an odd request to some people not in the know, after all who would willingly invite a bunch of rowdy pirates, not known to the barkeep, into such a pristine tavern to drink and be themselves? But there was good reason for such an invite, it was the same reason Buckfast Powersmash was in such demand throughout the world.
The powerful brew took it’s sweet time to distil and with an order as large as the good Captain had placed, no less than five hundred barrels, there was no choice but to wait and what better place to wait than within the walls of a tavern offering the brew, the same brew they were purchasing by the hull full.
As the crew enjoyed their drinks the Good Captain became the story teller for the evening and told of three pirates from his past that each met their deaths in less than pleasant ways. The stories were not told in attempt to scare his pirate crew, or get them to toe some invisible line and make themselves worthy, they were already worthy. The stories were told purely as an entertaining killer of time.
“First let me tell ye about th’ pirate known by th’ name o’ Redrum Eridos. Ne’er ‘ave ye seen a crazier lookin’ pirate wit’ he ginger hair ‘n his bushy ginger beard. He was Commodore o’ th’ first ship I ever stowed away upon back when I was but a wee troublesome teenager.”
The Good Captain took a swig of his drink, the rest of the crew took a breath and waited for the story to continue.
“A smart Commodore was ole Redrum from th’ top o’ his head down t’ th’ tip o’ his peg leg. But ’twas a bite from a bottom dwellin’ sea lurker known as a Stone fish that would be his demise. He was bitten while sleepin’ on th’ end o’ th’ stump ‘n didn’ realise it had happened afore ’twas too late. Th’ poison drained his system, turned his blood t’ water ‘n within days he had hisself a case o’ scurvy rot, th’ nastiest ye ‘ave ever seen. Within a week th’ poor ole bastard was no more.”
Another round of drinks was delivered the table before the Good Captain continued with another story.
“How about th’ tale o’ Captain Crashwave, he commanded th’ biggest ship o’ th’ sea, th’ mighty Golden Ducklin’. A terrible scallywag he was by all accounts, even worse than th’ evil Captain Morgan that many o’ ye once knew. He was condemned ‘n damned by his entire crew ‘n if that wasn’t bad enough they replaced wit’ a baldy man!”
Not a crew member spoke, they wall waited for the Good Captain to continue his tales.
“They say his ghost still haunts th’ seas he once sailed, many say they’ve seen ‘im on th’ nights so black ‘n stormy. Th’ legend says he’s eternally doomed t’ wander th’ oceans forever ‘n a day, none could see his soul reach Davy Jones locker. Mayhaps one day ye’ll too hear his deathly cries when ye be sailin’ th’ seas out here t’ th’ west.”
But it was the third story the Good Captain had to tell that had the crew cracking up and nearly spilling their tankards of Buckfast Powersmash.
“This last tale be th’ tale o’ Admiral Nobeard. An admiral o’ th’ worst kind, he had no idea how t’ command a ship. He named his ship th’ Wooden Anchor then forgot t’ buy sails fer ’tis three masts. He filled th’ galley full o’ grub ‘n ate it all afore leavin’ port.
He was th’ fattest pirate in th’ west ‘n th’ east, ‘n th’ heaviest pirate in th’ north ‘n south! He hadn’ seen his balls since he were twelve ‘n he needed a bra t’ hold his breasts. He was feared by friends ‘n foe alike but nah ’cause he was a dangerous scallywag, only ’cause he was so fat. No knife nor gun could wound his flesh, no cutlass around could pierce his gut. But one day Admiral Nobeard he did meet his fate, ’cause it ’twas on a pretzel he did choke t’ death.”
The Good Captain finished his stories but he had one more thing he wanted to say. It was not a story, it was not a tale, it was instead a pirate chant he would train his crew.
Th’ endless seas we shall forever sail
T’ th’ end o’ time we shall ne’er bail
Wit’ deadly cutlasses in our hands
We’ll terrorize th’ seas ‘n lands
Though th’ hands o’ fate may strike us down
Though th’ sorrows o’ battle may make us frown
We’ll fight ‘n fight ’til we fall
We’ll fight ‘n fight ’til we scuttle ’em all
Swashbucklers ’til we die
Swashbucklers ’til we die
Previous Pirate story here.