The Lady and the Pirate

Yearr, Shipmates!

I tell ‘ee now a tale which cuts to the my very core. I trust you will treat a Salty Dog’s old heart gently as I spill, like the guts of a Navy Midshipman sliced open in a duel, the tale of the love I found and lost.

This tale be many a moon back, when my beard was pure red and my blade was shining clean. The crow’s nest had spied a schooner on the horizon and we had given chase under full sail. We soon caught them and put the crew to the sword. When we rolled our last body overboard, we found a cabin locked fo’ward. Blasting it open with my musket, I found a lady, dressed all in finery, with a thick worsted travelling cloak ‘pon her standing in the middle of the floor.

Well, we soon had her back aboards ship. We knew that with quality the likes of her, whoever she may be, we would make a fine haul of dubloons when ransomed.

Though she ne’re spoke a word, we learned from papers she carried that she was a messenger for a great Landlubber Lord. He’d sent her about his business, hiding behind her skirts. We put into port in Normandy, and sent word to his representative in the town (he had one in every harbour, making much of his gold in breeding the birds landlubbers use to send each other messages, instead of flying flags like good pirates) that we had his Lady.

A bird came back within the day. She held too many of his secrets for him to risk that his great rival, the Baron of Bein, might try to out-bid him for our ransom.

A pirate crew needs to know its Captain will bring it many’s the Piece of Eight. Also, though it pains me to say so, the crewmen I set to guard our treasure before she was swapped for the fine gold threatened to mutiny if they were forced to listen to her voice for more than an hour. For, though she said naught of consequence, saving her secrets, she could prattle on unaided for as long as she drew breath. But I cared not, being both smitten by her mysteries and also above decks, out of earshot of her noise.

So I sent her away, and we buried the Spanish Gold we got in return upon a Sun-drenched isle in a goodly chest of Teak.

Arrh, but it do bring a tear to me eye. Though my beard now be gray, and my cutlass will ne’er be so sharp again, I still make sure, when away from the scornful gaze of my rum-sodden scurvy crew, to seek out a copy of the Times o’ London to read her words. The many secrets she carried have ensured that she was owed much by the Landlubber Lords and Ladies. She sits now, ennobled as Lady Meath, Holder of the Order of Blue Cashmere, pronouncing upon the doin’s and transpirin’s of the Landlubbers.

And a Hoary Old Sea Dog sails upon the waves, a buccaneer with only one secret in his crusty heart.

Yo! Ho! Ho!


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Arrh! The Photo above be available for us to be using though Creative Commons by missy_1074 from Flickr. We thankee!
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