Post by BBQ Butcher on May 23, 2013 6:20:01 GMT -5
Written a few years ago for my online buddy, Paul Carlson (RIP Pyrate, 5/22/2013)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Pyrate’s Tale
Aye, mateys, sit for a spell and let me unwind a tale that you'll never read or hear, except from me. It's a story about the boldest pirate ever to sail the Caribbean Sea. He is so evil, that there isn't a scribe alive that would dare to put his exploits down on parchment. Not if he favors his bloody neck, that is! You sons of heathens don't look at me like I'm daff! 'Tis true, I know 'cause I'm him….The Pyrate! Now if you can sit your scurvy arses down, I'll take up my story.
I was an apprentice sword maker in London as a young lad. One day Captain Henry Morgan came into the shop to get his sword repaired. He told me stories of the New World and the adventures and of the riches that could be had. I wanted to join his crew on his next voyage. He looked at me and laughed, "A young pup like you won't last a fortnight with the likes of my band of cutthroats!" With that, he was gone. But, I vowed that one day I would make him eat those words. I had become friends with the Sergeant of the King's Guards and in return for a furnishing and an edging every month, he in turn taught me how to use the cutlass and the long sword. I could use the rapier, also, but not as effectively as the other two.
I kept my eyes and ears open. One day shortly after my twenty-first birthday, in 1659, I found that a sea captain was taking on new deck hands and was bound for the New World. It would cost me nothing for passage, as we were to put into port in several European countries for the purpose of picking up enough cargo to trade in the Caribbean. It was to take us two years and the work would take care of our purse.
We slipped out of London late one evening and sailed for France. We picked up more cargo in Le Harve. And, that is where it finally dawned on this naïve lad, just what it was that we were carrying. Women! I was a white slaver! I mentioned this to the sailing master, and as he laughed, he hit me beside the head with the butt of his sword. "It don't matter, no how," he told me, "they be just whores and hussies. We'll fetch good gold and jewels for 'um. That is, if the sluts live long enough!"
We made our last stop in Lisbon, picked up another load of drunken, slovenly hags and finally headed west. So I thought! Instead, we were sailing south. To Africa! We finally arrived in Sierra Leone to re-provision our ship. Along with the rotting fruit and vegetables, we also loaded up about two hundred big black bucks, bound for slavery on the sugar and cotton plantations.
The five-month voyage, across the Atlantic, went without incident other than a couple of small inconveniences. The captain died into the first month and the sailing master took over the captain's duties. The other problem was the stench! Over a hundred women just a pukin' and a bleedin' all over! The sailing master wouldn't let them take their monthly bath because he was afraid they might catch their death from the cold salt water. He wanted as many bitches alive as possible until we go to St. Kitts. The Negroes had been rolling in mud all their lives and had no need of water, 'cept to drink. Water wouldn't take the small off them anyway. The way the women were moaning and the black devils were wailing, was enough to make on think that our shop was a sea monster, from any distance away!
In the spring of 1661, we finally arrived in the English colony of St. Kitts. The sailing master and the quartermaster took our cargo and went to the various flesh auctions to get whatever gold they could get for the hopeless souls. Most of the crew went to the taverns and brothels to have a good time. All of us new deck hands were forced to stay and clean the shop for the next voyage. A group of ten of us "decided" there would be 'no' next voyage! We overpowered our drunken guard and stole his sword. The men decided that I was the most intelligent and daring, so they made me their leader. We waited until the next morning, and when the two officers returned, they demanded to know why the ship was dirty. I stepped from the cabin, "Sir, this is no longer your ship. You are nothing but a lowdown coward, and if need be, I shall challenge you for the right of Captain."
He drew his sword and we parried for a while. My hate for this scum was great and my sword training had been practical. In no time, I had him backed to a mast, with no sword. I put the blade to his throat. He begged to be spared and I thought for a moment of doing just that. Then I realized that the world would be a better place without the likes of people like him. The cutlass went through is windpipe like a blade through hot lard. We were now "Brethren of the Coast" and I became known as “The Pyrate”.
I appointed my own officers and sent my first mate into town to round up new recruits and the rest of the other drunken sots. I would tell them at sea that they had a new captain. Twenty of the old crew opposed my leadership and I did the only think I thought right. I ran them through, one by one.
I took our cargo and sailed north to St. Eustatius and St. Martin. England was at war with Holland, so I had the blessing of the Governor to raid and plunder in the name of the King. We were careful at first to pick our marks cautiously. We didn't want to be outnumbered. I had now set a precedent, also. If any captured sailor didn't want to sail with me, he would die on the spot!
We came back to St. Kitts eight months later with a small armada in tow, laden with goods, sugar and gold. I had claimed St. Eustatius for England and had installed a new Governor. The riches bestowed on me were beyond my dreams. Gold, acres of land and rank in the Royal Navy! Even the young lassies in the Governor’s Court were starting to notice me.
For the last ten years I've created havoc with the Spanish and Dutch ports under the flag of England and a Letter of Marquee from France. Aye, ladies, I've plundered in Antigua and I've pillaged in Villa Hermosa. And every woman in between has felt my charm. Governors have introduced me to their daughters and nieces, wealthy merchants give me their best prices in hopes I may marry their fat brood. That life is not for me! I'll keep a lass or two in very port and keep looking for more. I've got more than five thousand acres of land scattered amongst the colonies and there be a few foolish souls out there who think they can find my treasure trove. Ha! They set one foot on my estates and they'll find out what the sharks eat for breakfast! The pirate hunters do not even dare to cross my sword. It has been said that I've been responsible for over a thousand dead soldiers and sailors! Methinks that figure may be low.
What do you think, laddies? Do you want to take a chance with an English Baron and a French Count? Do you want to get rich while I search for that scoundrel Henry Morgan in Panama? Or perhaps, you'd like to feel the burning blade of a Wilkinson as it slices through your yellow liver! What's it to be mateys? Times a wastin' and the old Pyrate wants to be on the high tide at dawn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Pyrate’s Tale
Aye, mateys, sit for a spell and let me unwind a tale that you'll never read or hear, except from me. It's a story about the boldest pirate ever to sail the Caribbean Sea. He is so evil, that there isn't a scribe alive that would dare to put his exploits down on parchment. Not if he favors his bloody neck, that is! You sons of heathens don't look at me like I'm daff! 'Tis true, I know 'cause I'm him….The Pyrate! Now if you can sit your scurvy arses down, I'll take up my story.
I was an apprentice sword maker in London as a young lad. One day Captain Henry Morgan came into the shop to get his sword repaired. He told me stories of the New World and the adventures and of the riches that could be had. I wanted to join his crew on his next voyage. He looked at me and laughed, "A young pup like you won't last a fortnight with the likes of my band of cutthroats!" With that, he was gone. But, I vowed that one day I would make him eat those words. I had become friends with the Sergeant of the King's Guards and in return for a furnishing and an edging every month, he in turn taught me how to use the cutlass and the long sword. I could use the rapier, also, but not as effectively as the other two.
I kept my eyes and ears open. One day shortly after my twenty-first birthday, in 1659, I found that a sea captain was taking on new deck hands and was bound for the New World. It would cost me nothing for passage, as we were to put into port in several European countries for the purpose of picking up enough cargo to trade in the Caribbean. It was to take us two years and the work would take care of our purse.
We slipped out of London late one evening and sailed for France. We picked up more cargo in Le Harve. And, that is where it finally dawned on this naïve lad, just what it was that we were carrying. Women! I was a white slaver! I mentioned this to the sailing master, and as he laughed, he hit me beside the head with the butt of his sword. "It don't matter, no how," he told me, "they be just whores and hussies. We'll fetch good gold and jewels for 'um. That is, if the sluts live long enough!"
We made our last stop in Lisbon, picked up another load of drunken, slovenly hags and finally headed west. So I thought! Instead, we were sailing south. To Africa! We finally arrived in Sierra Leone to re-provision our ship. Along with the rotting fruit and vegetables, we also loaded up about two hundred big black bucks, bound for slavery on the sugar and cotton plantations.
The five-month voyage, across the Atlantic, went without incident other than a couple of small inconveniences. The captain died into the first month and the sailing master took over the captain's duties. The other problem was the stench! Over a hundred women just a pukin' and a bleedin' all over! The sailing master wouldn't let them take their monthly bath because he was afraid they might catch their death from the cold salt water. He wanted as many bitches alive as possible until we go to St. Kitts. The Negroes had been rolling in mud all their lives and had no need of water, 'cept to drink. Water wouldn't take the small off them anyway. The way the women were moaning and the black devils were wailing, was enough to make on think that our shop was a sea monster, from any distance away!
In the spring of 1661, we finally arrived in the English colony of St. Kitts. The sailing master and the quartermaster took our cargo and went to the various flesh auctions to get whatever gold they could get for the hopeless souls. Most of the crew went to the taverns and brothels to have a good time. All of us new deck hands were forced to stay and clean the shop for the next voyage. A group of ten of us "decided" there would be 'no' next voyage! We overpowered our drunken guard and stole his sword. The men decided that I was the most intelligent and daring, so they made me their leader. We waited until the next morning, and when the two officers returned, they demanded to know why the ship was dirty. I stepped from the cabin, "Sir, this is no longer your ship. You are nothing but a lowdown coward, and if need be, I shall challenge you for the right of Captain."
He drew his sword and we parried for a while. My hate for this scum was great and my sword training had been practical. In no time, I had him backed to a mast, with no sword. I put the blade to his throat. He begged to be spared and I thought for a moment of doing just that. Then I realized that the world would be a better place without the likes of people like him. The cutlass went through is windpipe like a blade through hot lard. We were now "Brethren of the Coast" and I became known as “The Pyrate”.
I appointed my own officers and sent my first mate into town to round up new recruits and the rest of the other drunken sots. I would tell them at sea that they had a new captain. Twenty of the old crew opposed my leadership and I did the only think I thought right. I ran them through, one by one.
I took our cargo and sailed north to St. Eustatius and St. Martin. England was at war with Holland, so I had the blessing of the Governor to raid and plunder in the name of the King. We were careful at first to pick our marks cautiously. We didn't want to be outnumbered. I had now set a precedent, also. If any captured sailor didn't want to sail with me, he would die on the spot!
We came back to St. Kitts eight months later with a small armada in tow, laden with goods, sugar and gold. I had claimed St. Eustatius for England and had installed a new Governor. The riches bestowed on me were beyond my dreams. Gold, acres of land and rank in the Royal Navy! Even the young lassies in the Governor’s Court were starting to notice me.
For the last ten years I've created havoc with the Spanish and Dutch ports under the flag of England and a Letter of Marquee from France. Aye, ladies, I've plundered in Antigua and I've pillaged in Villa Hermosa. And every woman in between has felt my charm. Governors have introduced me to their daughters and nieces, wealthy merchants give me their best prices in hopes I may marry their fat brood. That life is not for me! I'll keep a lass or two in very port and keep looking for more. I've got more than five thousand acres of land scattered amongst the colonies and there be a few foolish souls out there who think they can find my treasure trove. Ha! They set one foot on my estates and they'll find out what the sharks eat for breakfast! The pirate hunters do not even dare to cross my sword. It has been said that I've been responsible for over a thousand dead soldiers and sailors! Methinks that figure may be low.
What do you think, laddies? Do you want to take a chance with an English Baron and a French Count? Do you want to get rich while I search for that scoundrel Henry Morgan in Panama? Or perhaps, you'd like to feel the burning blade of a Wilkinson as it slices through your yellow liver! What's it to be mateys? Times a wastin' and the old Pyrate wants to be on the high tide at dawn.