The straight talk and dead pan look on the ghostly pirate’s face was unmistakeable, even in the strange glow that lit the man up. But somehow the Good Captain knew every word he was hearing was a hundred percent accurate, at least accurate to the best of the ex-captain’s knowledge.

There had been a moment of silence between the two men before the last words where spoken, but after the ghostly captain had spoken the words, “Then all o’ a sudden, can ye believe it? A cannonball hit me in th’ other knee!” another silence fell over the quiet ship. This time the silence was because the Good Captain didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at what he heard.

The silence lasted for nearly thirty seconds before the ghostly pirate broke it with a loud, crackling voice the didn’t just hint laughter, it shouted it loud and clear.


Almost instantly the Good Captain could see the change in the ghostly captain’s demeanour. He was deadly serious about his story, there was no doubting that, but the huge smile and cackling laughter also said he was laughing at the retelling of that story.

The Good Captain had met a lot of people in his time on the seas, some were evil and needed to be dealt with, some were sorrowful and spent their days wallowing in their own self pity after life dealt them a rotten banana, but some just couldn’t be put down no matter what happened. The ghostly captain before him was one of those people, he’d been dead a hundred years more than he’d been alive, when he was alive he’d lost his ship in battle and lost not one, but two of his legs to cannon ball fire. Yet here the man sat, well the ghost of a man, on a ship he had once commanded laughing as he retold the story of what had to be the worst time in his history.

Sad story or not the Good Captain decided it was okay for him to laugh along with the ghostly captain and that is exactly what he did.

“Aye those rotten scurvy Spanish bastards!” The Good Captain said wishing he had a large tankard of rum that he could toast the ghostly captain with.

The Good Captain felt a breeze of cool wind blow directly across the deck of the ship, it wasn’t strong enough to dislodge the hat from atop of his head but it did flap the lapels of his coat slightly as it crossed the ship. Any other time such a sea breeze would have more than likely sent a shiver up a person’s spine but under the sloop’s mast, concentrating on the ghostly captain before him the Good Captain felt nothing of the sort

“Wooden leg, wooden leg, I’ve got a wooden leg, wooden leg.” The ghostly captain said, then repeated himself, once, twice and again a third time.

There was a unique sounding rhythm to the words the Good Captain was hearing, almost as if they were the words to a song.

The ghostly captain continued talking.

“Despite fallin’ t’ th’ deck I didn’ give up a-fightin’. We took on those Spanish bastards ‘n me crew took me home ‘n saved me life.”

At that point in the story the Good Captain knew the ghostly captain’s story was varying slightly to that which the man whom the unnamed bay was named after told him, but he said nothing and let the man tell his tale.

“When I returned to command this sea going gal, both me legs were made of wood. Many a people did what say that my future was looking too grim to command a ship. They said that things did not look good for me. But I had myself other ideas. I had myself ideas of proving them wrong.”

The breeze across the ship was increasing as the Good Captain sat on the decks below the mast of his new sloop. He was enjoying the story of the ghostly captain, it might have varied from the one that he had heard earlier in the day but it was also more interesting. What it all meant and what he was suppose to do with such a story he didn’t know but he guessed that would be revealed to him when the time came.

The ghostly captain spoke again.

“When we left port on th’ first journey aft me accident thar was voices upon th’ jetty, they were sly voices that I was nah suppose t’ hear, but I heard them nonetheless. They were th’ voices o’ defeatist scallywags sayin’ I ought t’ stay ashore ‘n drink all day, that I was nah fit t’ be a cap’n aboard any ship, that me days would be better spent drunk ‘n fightin’ in taverns. But I knew better ‘n on those seas I did set sail.

We found ourselves in th’ seas o’ Japan, huntin’ fer gold ‘n hauntin’ fer booty, then out o’ th’ dark one black night were ambushed by a bunch o’ Samurai’s wit’ ninja like skills. One o’ them Ninjas did beat me ‘n slice me t’ within an inch o’ me life. I did ask ‘im fer mercy, said I be but a scallywag wit’ two wooden legs. However instead o’ mercy th’ bastard chopped off both me arms!”

Then fie words cut through the silence of the night.


The Good Captain had no idea what to say in reaction to what the ghostly captain had said so he just sat there and said nothing.

Previous Pirate Captain story here.