Captain’s log, day 491
It’s now been almost a year and a half since my famed prison escape. For those of you who have no clue as to the events that transpired, I will only say they involved, string, a dead rat, a stick of dynamite and the gross misuse of an arsehole. But even that pales in comparison to how I actually acquired the ship I needed to sail away from that daft place.
The sad part is, however, that even after almost a year and a half of freedom, I have yet to actually be able to round up another crew to roam the high seas with. Not that I didn’t try, mind you. It’s just that fending off three corsairs in a ship that has more holes in it’s sails than a mainland brothel isn’t exactly a small feat. That, or evading “Cuthroat” Jack, who didn’t get that nickname because he’s a caring pirate. But, even given all that riffraff, I’ve never been a part of such an inspirational event as the one that happened only a few days ago (I didn’t get to write about it until now because my one-year old waterlogged journal was yearning for a replacement).
I had barely moored in Devil’s Anchorage (a charming little hovel of an island in the middle of pirate-infested waters), when I laid eyes upon the most beautiful of morsels to grace that putrid land with her gentle swaying. She had a firm and narrow stern, her sails drifted gently in the cold breeze and her sharp bow could cut the moist air with guiltless pleasure. And this ship had a captain with tits and an arse to match it. She was a fine damsel indeed, with a blade on her thigh as sharp as her emerald stare. Hair as black as the devil’s own soul, a crimson scarf and a finely embroidered white shirt completed that shining portrait. She was like an albatross in a nest of crows.
Any lesser man would have thought twice about risking a close encounter with the tip of her blade. But, even after that second thought, I still decided to prance along like a little schoolgirl and extend my heartiest hellos to the fine lass. She was at the very least deserving of some hospitality on this barren rock. After being harshly scrutinized for approaching her ship at less than an arms length, I proceeded to weigh my steps carefully as though I was walking the plank, not boarding her ship.
She proceeded to calmly ask me what I was doing so close to her vessel, with one hand on the hilt of her sword. I murmured a few words about how pleased I was to see that there was at least one person on this island that carried a semblance of style and finesse. I must have stuttered, since her only reaction was to squint her eyes in disgust.
“If flattery is the only thing that’s helped you sail your ship, I’m not surprised it looks the way it does. Or maybe you can only keep your rudder straight when it comes to barmaids and wenches.”
She allowed herself the benefit of a small guilty pleasure, pausing for a second to let the venom of her words sink deeper into my wounds. With a devilish grin, she asked me what it was I actually wanted from her, besides the chance to stare like a blundering idiot.
“I took the liberty of noticing that your vessel seems to be missing an able-bodied First Mate to help you run a tight ship around here. What I mean to say is, your men look to be a bit on the sloppy side, and I don’t think a fine Captain such as yourself has had to deal with scalawags like these before. I, on the other hand, have had extensive experience with these sort of cutthroats.” I answered shortly and foolishly.
“Are you trying to say I’m not able to run a tight ship? Or did you stutter?”
“No, no, no. What I mean is, it would be a lot easier if you had someone around to handle the dirty business of keeping these scoundrels in line. I’m merely trying to provide you with a little service”
“A little service that’s going to cost me what exactly?”
“The simple pleasure of being on board your ship and to be a part of your crew. Also, you strike me as the kind of sailor that’s looking for more… lucrative adventures. So I imagine that there is at least reputation to gain from sailing with you.”
“You have anything salvageable on what’s left of your ship?”
“Save for dead rats and a few barrels of rotten fruits, I’m afraid the only thing to be had of the poor girl is her timber.”
“What about her sails? They seem to have a little wind left in them.”
“…I… wouldn’t wager they’ve got too much of it left”
“Be that as it may, I’m still not entirely sure you’re the right man for this ship. So get me what good sails you’ve got left and all the rope you can salvage that won’t break at the first heave. You have until dusk. If you’re not ready by then, the only way you’ll get close to this ship again is if you swim beside it.”
“But that’s about an hour’s time.”
“Then you shouldn’t dawdle, now should you?”
“Aye… Captain.”
—————————————————
I know, it’s been a while since I gave any love to this blog, but I decided to oil my writer wheels with another pirate’s tale. This was done at the behest of someone not unlike the Captain of the vessel. When I find myself in possession of an excess amount of inspiration, I’ll be sure to pour it into another part of this tale… which could even develop into a full story (I just got the idea for it today).
As always, feedback is appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the adventures of my little pirate friend over here (who has yet to be named as I have recently been reminded).
Sail on, ye scalawags!
