The Good Captain knew that the next decision he would make could easily be a mistake, could well be the biggest mistake of his career. The crew of the Privateer may well have been known and feared around the world but an ambushing force could believe they had a chance against them, especially as they were alone and without the support of the Revenge and her crew.
The hills and trees surrounding the bay which they had chosen after coming through the storm of the equator were dense and could easily hide more men than the Privateer had aboard her. The seemingly crazy man with the pentahook, five hooks for a hand, could easily have been the sacrificial lamb sent down to greet the crew and lull them into a false sense of security. All in all what the Good Captain could see might not have been what it seemed.
However there was something in the Good Captain’s gut, a gut which didn’t often let him down, that told him the crazy old man with the pentahook was alone. What he was doing alone in a port with nothing more than a single jetty the Good Captain’s gut could not answer but it didn’t need to because the Good Captain had made his decision.
“Yer rage does nah fear me none ole man!” The Good Captain called in a loud voice so that all his crew could hear. “Yer natter be big, yer natter I bold ‘n yer natter be brassy. But we sir are nah frightened off so easily. Ye may be a wavin’ that pentahook around as if it’s a weapon t’ be feared but thar be worse thin’s t’ fear other than a man wit’ some hooks fer a hand!”
“Ye know nah wha’ ye be sayin’ cap’n!” the old man with the pentahook called.
“Sir,” The Good Captain said without waiting for the man to continue. “We do mean ye no harm. We do nah wish t’ take ye by force. We do nah even wants t’ take yer land or it’s booty. We be naught more than pirates sailin’ th’ seas ‘n lookin’ fer a port in which we can spend day repair th’ damage wha’ was done by th’ storm we sailed through yesterday.”
The old man with the pentahook took no notice of the Good Captain’s words instead he began another loud and aggressive rant.
“Many a legend told o’ evil, from th’ earliest days o’ piracy right up t’ today. Evils from th’ days o’ ole t’ atrocious t’ live through by today’s pirate crews, even yers cap’n! But none o’ those tales compare t’ th’ evil in which I ‘ave delivered t’ those who ‘ave nah heeded me words.”
The Good Captain stood unwavering aboard the deck of the Privateer, his look shifted from the hills, looking for any signs of a potential ambush, to the old man with the pentahook ranting and raving on the jetty below him.
“Thar ‘ave been many who ‘ave called me a sadistic psychopath ’cause o’ th’ thin’s I ‘ave done. They say thar be naught this scallywag ‘n his pentahook wont do t’ an enemy who fails t’ listen t’ his words. They also say I be a scallywag capable o’ deliverin’ such sickenin’ ‘n devilish punishment that even th’ history books could nah accurately recount me dastardly doin’s.”
The Good Captain waited for the crazy pentahook adorned man to take a breath and shut up before speaking again.
“Sir. I assure ye again we be nah here t’ mean ye harm. We be simply seekin’ some shelter fer a short period o’ time.” But while the man did not make any moves he also did not take any of the Good Captain’s words to heart, instead he became angrier.
“Ye shall all die by th’ rage o’ th’ pentahook!” The old man’s voice was louder than it had been before. “I’ll break ya bleedin’ necks. I’ll eat off ya bleedin’ ugly faces. Ye be a foe t’ me all th’ second ye sailed into me port. I’m a threat t’ pirates around th’ world.”
At that moment the old man’s rants became even more wild and outrageous. No one aboard the Privateer moved a single muscle, they simply stood waiting for the Good Captain’s words, but the old man still was did not let the Good Captain speak.
“So raise ya cutlasses up in th’ air, it makes no difference t’ me. Slosh ya whiskeys ‘n drink t’ absent mateys ‘n those who died which ye will surely soon be joinin’. Fight t’ th’ mighty end, I expect naught less from a hearty crew such as ye ‘ave. But ‘ave no fear yer lives are about t’ end. Death will soon be takin’ ye all from this world as ye die by th’ rage o th’ pentahook!”
The Good Captain and the crew of the Privateer stood unmoving aboard the decks. There was no fear on their faces and there was not a sound made by a single pirate. The speech of the old man with the pentahook hadn’t moved the Good Captain, however he was convinced that whatever the issues the old man actually had they were his alone. Whether it was insanity brought on by being along or an insanity that had been around longer the Good Captain didn’t know but we was sure that the man was definitely alone.
Instead of speaking, instead of pleading with the man for shelter to fix his ship and instead of fighting the old man with the pentahook the Good Captain pulled his musket from the loop on his belt, pointed it at the old man and shoot him in the chest.
Previous Pirate story here.