by Liz Evans
Once upon a time there was a pirate. This pirate’s name was Captain Blackhart. He was named such because it had been said that if you were to cut him open all you’d find would be tar and evil. His crew were a surly bunch, several missing legs or an eye, but most just missin’ teeth. Yet even this surly bunch were afraid of Cap’n Blackhart.
On this particular occasion, Cap’n Blackhart had just finished floggin’ Ferguson, for an improper knot, when the lookout spied a fine sloop cutting to the northeast off the port bow.
“Ah! There do me a favorable, wind today.” Cap’n shouted and he thumped across the deck. “We do be in for a treat.”
Pullin’ his spy glass from his belt, he leaned over the railing peering at his target. It was a small ship, but richly decked out. The sails were of a fine grade and the passengers wore silks. Dancing a merry caper he turned back to the crew. “Hoist the colors, boys! We do be sittin’ pretty afore sundown!”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n” a chorus of voices responded as they jumped to, pulling ropes, unfurling sails and turnin’ them into the wind. Their brigantine cut sharply to port and the chase was on.
“Fire a shot across their bow.” Cap’n ordered, and the bosons whistle let out it’s shrill call before the long nine fired. BOOM! The cannon retorted and the ball flew missing the sloops bow by mere feet.
With spyglass in hand Blackhart watched the passengers of the other vessel scramble, hoistin’ the sails making to escape. Their ship pulled starboard, but it wasn’t going to enough to outrun The Scurvy Mermaid. Black hart had the finest ship on the seven seas, no one could out run his guns.
“Pete!” He barked at his gunner, “Take down their mast.”
Loading a ball and chain into the cannon it fired again sending the deadly contraption twirling through the air. It hit one of the crewmen before wrappin’ around the mast, breakin’ them both in two.
“Thar be a fine aim, Pete.” Clappin’ the man on the shoulder. Killing always put the Cap’n in a complimentary mood. “Pull up on thar starboard and show ‘em some lead.”
As soon as they were in range, the three cannons on the port side fired in succession, their deadly discharge punching holes in the already handicapped vessel. The pirates all shared a good laugh as the women aboard the other vessel screamed and a volley of bullets were sent towards The Scurvy Mermaid from the men.
Each pirate had armed himself and stood ready at the railing for the call to launch their hooks and pull this unfortunate vessel within their grasp.
“Get on wit it, Ye lily livered vermin!” He’d shout with a wave of his sword and the hooks would sail. It appeared as a choreographed dance as the pirates pulled and knotted the other ship to them, holding it fast.
Another volley of bullets sailed through from the sloop, some finding purchase in unlucky blaggards who fell to the deck. There’d be time to throw them over later, after the spoils were in.
With a yell, Blackhart swooshed his sword forward, sending his filthy crew over the side and swarming onto the deck. In the mayhem Captain Blackhart took the time to make note of the vessel he’d be pillaging today. Open Sea, was her name, but before this was over it’d belong to Davy Jones. The ringing of metal against metal were music to his ears, and after an appropriate amount of time he too swung himself over to join the mêlée.
With a boisterous laugh he ran the first man who came at him through. A slash to the left, feinted to the right and parried a blow before cutting off the man’s arm.
“Save the Wenches for ME!” He hollered as he heard the women screaming. Dead Tom had a buxom lass by the hair, dragging her towards their ship, while Hobble had another slung over his shoulder and another looped in one arm pressed against his side. Only one way fighting, the other seems to have fainted from the excitement. There’d be a hot time on The Scurvy Mermaid tonight! Cap’n Blackhart thought to himself, his appetite for women was always ready after a stirring battle.
After a time, the battle cooled, and those of the crew who were not dead were thrown over board for the sharks. Only four of his own crew appeared to have lost this one.
After stripping the ship of all it’s finery and gold, Cap’n pulled open the trap door to the cargo hold He was met with a nice surprise. This ship was a Rum runner, and they’re just hit pay dirt.
Taking a bottle for each pocket, and one for each hand, Captain Blackhart returned to his own vessel for wenching and more killing, and a night of earthly pleasures.
“Arr!” He said to himself, “It do me a fine days work, if I do say so meself.”