The storm raged on and conditions got worse.

The seas seemed to get rougher, every wave rising well above the bow of the ships and when they came crashing down water was spread from one end of the top deck to the other. The only thing that kept the pirates on their feet was being tethered to something more solid than them and the hope that what they were tethered to did not break.

The squalling winds roared loudly through the ships, it was a feeling that no pirate every truly got used to because of its randomness and the fact it was so hard to follow. A straight wind could blow across the ship, rattle anything in its path and scatter anything not tied down. It would even howl through between the ropes, between the masts, through any gap it could find and the smaller that gap was the more it sounded like an annoying whistle that constantly raised and lowered in volume.

However in squalling winds that same noise echoed at a pirate from any and every direction making in neigh on impossible to figure out where the wind was coming from and what action needed to be taken to combat it. There was not a pirate aboard the Revenge, or the Privateer who had not witnessed such hardships in their years at sea, but there was no a pirate aboard the to ships who had witness the true fury of Cape Horn and it was the kind of torment that could see a pirate go bat shit crazy before their time.

As well as the rising waves and squalling winds the rain too had increased. The dark clouds that hovered about the two ships teemed rain down, seeming large sheets of water falling from the sky and landing on everything not able to take cover. Had the ships deck’s not already been covered in frothy with scum and water from the waves the rain water alone would have made walking on deck treacherous.

Standing tethered at the helm of the Revenge, with his second mate, Cecco Cookson tethered to the rail beside him, Captain Bildgepoole kept the ship as straight as he could. At all times he tried to keep the Privateer in sight but many times he lost it as the waves swallowed one of the big ships before spitting it out the other side onto the crest of the following wave. He’d fought rough conditions before, battled the waves in many ships and the only thing more unsettling to him than the wind that was howling through him was the voice he could hear from the deck below, the voice of Free Bootin’ Tarfinger.

“When this storm be o’er, ‘n Mother’s had her final blow
Onward north our big ships shall flow
Up th’ coast into warmer weather
Into port, moored at night, we drink together
Drink all night ’til days dawn be nigh
Fer th’ followin’ day we may die

Yo ho we be headin’ t’ Mexico
Somewhere south where th’ cactus grow
Drinkin’ mugs o’ Tequila ‘n a cheerin’ t’ a donkey show
Mexico, Mexico, yo ho ho we be goin’ t’ Mexico
Somewhere down south away th’ ice ‘n th’ snow
Somewhere down south find me in a sexy bordello
Let’s go t’ Mexico.”

The second verse, if in fact it was a second verse of a song was as intriguing as the first and Captain Bildgepoole found himself again wondering how such sweet and dulcet tones could float through the storm that drowned out so many other noises.

Standing beside Captain Bildgepoole, Cecco Cookson was equally as bemused by the sounds he was hearing. Unlike Captain Bildgepoole he had not heard those tones the first time, he was busy fighting with a wayward rope that had been ripped from the rear mast and was lashing around dangerously across the navigation deck.

Despite the bemusement of both leading men aboard the Revenge neither of them spoke about the sounds, neither knew what to say. They knew who the voice belonged to but such singing was not something either had heard from the pirate before.

For a second time in as many minutes the voice rose up from the lower deck again.

“A pirate’s life be far from simple
We drink ‘n loot ‘n sail ‘n scuttle
We be always questin’, in search o’ bigger thrills
We sail across th’ oceans, get drunk in many bars
We fight many battles makes many great memoirs
But when we sail t’ Mexico that’s where we gonna party hard.”

The chorus they’d only just heard, if it was a chorus was heard again.

“When this storm be o’er, ‘n Mother’s had her final blow
Onward north our big ships shall flow
Up th’ coast into warmer weather
Into port, moored at night, we drink together
Drink all night ’til days dawn be nigh
Fer th’ followin’ day we may die

Yo ho we be headin’ t’ Mexico
Somewhere south where th’ cactus grow
Drinkin’ mugs o’ Tequila ‘n a cheerin’ t’ a donkey show
Mexico, Mexico, yo ho ho we be goin’ t’ Mexico
Somewhere down south away th’ ice ‘n th’ snow
Somewhere down south find me in a bordello
Let’s go t’ Mexico.”

When the sounds of the sea, the sounds of the wind and the sound of the rain again roared across the deck the two leading men of the Revenge were unsure whether Free Bootin’ Tarfinger had finished his singing, but if he wasn’t he’d either moved on to another job or he could no longer be heard.

Cecco Cookson looked at his captain, Captain Bildgepoole looked at his second mate, both looked equally confused and both knew not what to say. So instead of speaking both of men shrugged their shoulders said nothing and returned to their jobs.

Previous Pirate story here.