Story 6

Me has another story fer ya. Y'know, I jus' arrived 'ere at Tortuga today. I made a short trip to Port Royale few days ago. We were on our way back to Tortuga, when my sailors spotted a sail on th' 'orizon. I immediately ordered a new course towards the unknown ship. This waiting time is something that reminds me of dicing. Until we got close we didn't know whether it's an gold laden trader or bristling with cannons warship. The bad thin' is that if ye saw th' ship up close it could be too late to sail away. It's like ye can't stop a dice when it's started rollin' and th' outcome is either good or bad. Y'can only wait, I mean... well... aah, forget it. This time it proved to be a single brig without any national flag on th' mast. 'Twas a brig 'Siren's Call', homeport Anguilla. I thought it wouldn't hurt to loot th' ship, so I ordered my boys to prepare for boardin' an' raise Jolly Roger. 'Siren's Call' replied with a red flag. I spat on th' deck. I 'xpected 'em to surrender. 'Twould be a slaughter, wit' o'er hundred marines on board 'Factol Skall'.

'Factol Skall' was sailing towards 'Siren's Call'. We were closin' quite fast, th' wind blew almost directly on our backs. The enemies turned and fired at us, but th' distance was still a bit too great and only three cannons did hit us, causin' little damage. They tried to turn their other side at us, but we got 'em first. At first my battle hardened marines cleared th' enemy deck with a devastatin' salvo from their muskets. Grapplin' hooks followed quickly and me boys began pourin' onto th' 'Siren's Call'. A chaotic battle erupted an' soon their deck was slippery from th' blood. Jus' as I was pullin' my sabre out of some sailor's guts I saw a young seaman chargin' at me wit' a raised gaff hook. I dropped my sabre and quickly drew a pistol from my belt an' fired at th' enemy. My shot almost blew off 'is head, th' sight was gruesome even to my ruthless heart. Th' survivors surrendered rather quickly. Despite th' easy victory I felt somethin' went wrong. I mean they didn't have to die. Even this boy wit' a gaff hook, he was no more than 20 years old. His soddin' life ended alluva sudden, because 'eir goddamned captain wus too proud to surrender to us. At least this capt'n wus among th' first to die. 'Twas some kinda justice for th' slain sailors. He shoulda known better. 'Twas all 'is soddin' fault. I never kill people who surrender to me. Almost ne'er, that is. 'Sbloody 'ell! I'm gettin' moody again! Gotta quit these stories or I'll get soft and sissy by thinkin' 'bout those things.

Anyway, back to my story. Jus' as th' prisoners were gathered on th' forecastle of th' 'Siren's Call', I heard:

"Lord in the sky, strike me down with a dozen lightnings, if I ain't just see Crash!"

I frowned and turned abruptly. Someone recognisin' me couldn't be nothin' good.

"Just look at him! Nice cloth's, Crash, I see yer a mate now! Har, har, har!" It wus an old bearded man with a blooded piece of cloth wrapped 'round 'is head.

One of my sailors struck 'im in th' belly. "Speak wit' r'spect ta cap'n Crash, idiot!"

"My!" he opened 'is mouth wide "Cap'n Crash? I jus' can't believe my ol' eyes. Y'don't remember me? 'Western Explorer'. Y'were a youn' boy then." Suddenly all became clear. Jones Carraway, a helmsman from 'Western Explorer' my first ship. He still remembers me as a sailor. Har, har, har! 'Twas over 15 years ago. I felt like a century's passed since that time. How I couldva not recognise 'im? Well, 'twas a good piece of luck we met again. I 'ad good memories of 'im. 'Fcourse I released all 10 prisoners an' Jones.

They all wanted to join us. I needed more crew anyway, so I took 'em in.

'Siren's Call' will fetch a good price in Tortuga.

'Twas soddin' bit of luck that m' ol' friend Jones didn't die wit' th' rest of 'is former crew. This made me think - how many seamen die out there on th' seas with every pirate raid? Each one of 'em has 'is tale to tell. Each one 'as some friends out there who wanna meet 'em once more. How many untold tales do we put to end with every raid?

Oi, watch out! Cap'n Kat is approachin'!

Gotta watch yer tongues around that one! She be th' most able cap'n east of Havana!

Story 7

Ha! Bein' in Port Royale I heard a really good story I'd like to lann ya. It's a story 'bout a young newcomer to th' West Indies, a sod known as Errol Pennygush. Errol wus jus' one of them soddin' European newbies. At least he got somewhat lucky and managed to get a job as a servant to th' gov'nor of Barbados, Isaak Ashingstone.

One day an extremely important figure visited gov'nor Ashingstone. He was a duke or somethin'. Th' gov'nor was quite nervous about such a guest. This duke was known for his love of unusual meals. Th' gov'nor wanted to be a good host, so he ordered Errol to buy an octopus. He gave'im 200 pesos and said th' price didn't matter.

Errol was in real trouble now. He didn't know a thin' what an octopus looks like or what does one make with it. What's more he didn't have a slightest clue where to look for one. Havin' no other option he took th' money and went to th' bazaar.

He asked some fellow where can he buy an octopus. Th' sod made a strange face and pointed th' docks.

At th' docks he asked 'bout th' octopus once again. A red bearded man went to gret 'im.

"Didn't know th' news spread so quickly. I heard you came to buy th' octopus, right?"

"Yes, I'm here after th' octopus" Errol was soddin' happy he found one so easily.

"But you sure you've got th' money?"

"Yes, th' price doesn't matter" said Errol remebering th' gov'nor's words.

"Very good. Sign here." he produced a document.

Errol was a little bit surprised. A document to buy an octopus, whatever it is? But he signed it on behalf of gov'nor Ashingstone.

"Very well. Now th' money."

"Here you are" Errol proudly gave him a pouch with 200 pesos.

"Y'must be jokin'. Th' price is 20.000 pesos, not this little pouch of yours!"

"Waddya mean?"

"Did ya really think ya can buy th' finest galleon this side of Atlantic, the pride of th' Lesser Antilles fer 200 pesos? 'Octopus' is for sale fer 20.000. Here's th' signed contract. I don't make discounts fer th' gov'nors."

Whaddya think of this one? Wharr, har, har! I couldn't stop laughin' all th' evenin'!

<IMPORTANT: this story is not my own. I found it in a book, but I can't remeber which one. I only changed few things so it would fit fer our beloved Carribeans>

Story 8

I wanna tell ye a story. It happened to me about a year ago in th' port of St. Lucia. I was in real mess back then. I'm a lucky fella I'm still sittin' here with ya all, drinkin' rum an' telling stories.

After a tirin' and dangerous raid on th' Spanish Main, we finally sailed north. 'Factol Skall's' holds were full of stolen gold, jewelry and luxury goods. I wus sailing towards the numerous cities of Lesser Antilles, to sell all th' looted cargo to merchants willin' to deal with a pirate like m'self. My boys were anxious to dock in some port, as they didn't have a chance to visit a good brothel in a long time, that's sure as my navigation maps are rubbish. Why should I deny them this lil' pleasure? - I asked m'self. Aft'r all they did a 'ell of a job out there in Cumana, Caracas, Puerto Cabello and Coro. All these towns looted clear. Yup, th' boys definitely needed some reward. Even though at first didn't intend to sail to St. Lucia, I set course on this town. 'Tis strange how close a cap'n get with 'is crew after few months of sailin'. I know most of ya sturdy seadogs will laugh at me, but really hate it when my boys get killed. I feel as if I lost a friend. I may seem somewhat silly, being so loyal to my crew, but th' truth is, I can count on jus' th' same loyalty from my cutthroats. That's why I usually sail wit' jus' 'Factol Skall'. I could have more crew and ships any time, but I couldn't be so close to my crew.

I think th' boys sense what kind of cap'n I am. Y'know I even don't bother lockin' my cabin's door b'fore goin' to sleep. Neither do I care 'bout sittin' wit' my back towards th' door. How many of ye can say th' same thing, huh? I know my boys would follow me willingly even to th' ocean's floor, that's sure as my eyes are sharp.

Anyway we sailed to St. Lucia. 'Tis a small port, hardly worth of anyone's attention. Th' only interestin' thing about it was that it was French town. That meant clearly that some of th' most pretty wimmin 'round can be found 'ere and that is somethin' that counts.

Jus' as my boys went on th' land to th' dockside taverns and other interestin' places, I decided 'twould be a good time to pay a visit to th' gov'nor. I couldn't remember th' sod, but I think I spoke wit' 'im b'fore and my relationships wit' th' French weren't as bad as wit' th' other nations. Jus' to make sure nothin' un'xpeted happens, I took wit' me a load of papers; intoduction letters, letter of forgiveness and other 'useful' documents. I got 'em from one of my mates, Largo Romero, after I installed 'im in Trinidad as a French gov'nor. He wus grateful enough to issue me these papers. Yep, th' only gov'nors I can trust are those I install'd m'self, that's sure as Pete th'Cook's meals are unpalatable.

Th' first impression of th' gov'nor wasn't bad. He wus not one of those bored to death clerks, treatin' honest pirates as inferiors. He laughed at my jokes and drunk a mug of rum wit' me. I wus even hopin' fer a lucrative mission fer me, until somethin' dread happened.

"I'd like to introduce ye to someone" said Antoine, th gov'nor and waved 'is hand towards th' balcony door.

"Well met, Crash" I heard a cold voice behind me.

I think I must'va gone completely pale. I knew whose voice 'twas even b'fore I turned. I heard it so often whene'er I closed m' eyes in th' night. Joanne Galoise. So we've finally met again.

I couldn't say a word. There she was, standin' b'fore me, beautiful as always. Long, golden hair were swaying in th' gentle breeze. An' those piercin' green eyes! She wus wearin' real lady's clothes. 'Twas such a surprisin' look, me always seein' 'er in buccaneer's outfit. My peery eye saw a thin curved scar on 'er left cheek. Joanne's nose was also slightly bent, I mustva broken it back then. 'Twas a surprise even to m'self, but I felt somewhat relieved that despite th' scar and th' broken nose, Joanne looked jus' as cute as b'fore. I could say the marks even added more fierceness to her delicate features. All this time I thought I left her on that street in Margarita with really ruined face I often wondered how could I do it to 'er? I mean she betrayed me and th' crew, but on th' other hand how could I punish her so severely fer her ambitions?

'Twas a strange feelin'. I felt torn. Torn between th' urge to shake 'er an hit 'er once again fer 'er treachery. 40 of my boys died in this trap out there in Margarita. On th' other hand I wanted to grab 'er, hold 'er an' laugh that she's well after all. I ne'er knew whut happened to 'er after th' duel. But I thought 'bout it a lot.

Cold smile on th' Joanne's face told me 'twas all arranged. I took a quick glance at th' gov'nor. He stood up and was smilin' too.

"Well met indeed, traitor" I replied to Joanne, but lookin' directly at th' gov'nor. He clenched fists and frowned, but after a moment lowered 'is eyes. It confirmed that th' two were plannin' this meetin' together.

"Sharp tongued as ever, Crash. Won't ye say anythin' after all this time?" she was sneerin' me.

"Sure. I'd gladly slit yer soddin' throat, Poison Lips, that's sure as th' mosquitos are biting" I wanted to say somethin' different, but harsh words were first to make it through my mouth. I think that's really pirates' way - always th' hard way.

"I see yer still sailin' on the same rat-infested piece of wood, ye call a ship. Ye ain't changed, Crash. If that's true, I believe my s'posedly poisonous lips are still somethin' yer dreamin' 'bout, huh?"

My face turned red in an instant. She knew! In this very moment I regretted th' life turned out this way. It could be all different.

Seein' my embarrassment, Joanne nodded at th' gov'nor. He cleared his throat and began.

"Ahem... you're... well... under arrest Captain Crash. I mean... I have to call guards to take you to the prison."

I produced one of my writings. "I'm afraid I'll 'ave to disappoint ye. I'm not goin' anywhere. See this writ from gov'nor Romero of Trinidad says..."

Joanne's lightning-fast rapier cut th' air with a whizzin' sound. The point of th' rapier caught th' scroll I was holdin' in my hand at sent it flyin' to th' far end of th' room. It landed directly in th' centre of a fireplace an immediately caught fire.

"Ye were always clumsy, Crash. Y' know, y'gotta be more careful wit' important documents. It's a shame you stumbled and threw it to th' fire."

I raised my bleedin' hand to my mouth. I tasted my blood and spat it at th' gov'nor's grinnin' face. A powerful punch followed shortly after and sent th' lil' man to th' ground. At th' same time I drew my sabre wit' my hurt hand. Surprisingly enough, Joanne was just standin' in place an' watchin' me, as if evaluatin'. Suddenly she jumped forward without a slightest warnin', I instinctively moved to th' right, her blade slashin' the air just 'bout an inch from my ear. I swung at her exposed, allurin' legs, but she already wasn't there. Yep, th' lightnin'-fast Joanne the Poison Lips is one of th' two wenches I'd ne'er willingly put a fight with. To cross blades with her could prove to be th' greatest an' th' last mistake a sod could do. Th' other wench is th' famous Cap'n Kathryn the Wild Cat of Th' Sisterhood. After she single-handedly defeated two of th' most notorious pirates in th' West Indies; th' ruthless Cap'n Coggy an' th' ferocious Cap'n Mad Moose, she's definitely not someone I'd like to meet on th' open sea. The fastest blade an' th' most able seadog out there. If th' two ever got together... brrrr... I don't even wanna think 'bout it.

Anyway, Joanne slash'd my arm and jumped away. Th' wound wasn't partcularly serious, but th' bleedin' was.

"C'mere an' fight like a man, or I'll nick ye, Joanne!" I shouted angrily "All this dancin' won't do ye no good!"

"I jus' have ta make sure ye play none of yer dirty tricks, like th' last time." she replied between rapier strikes.

"Okay, let it go! I surrender!" I pretended I'm raisin' my hands, and in th' last moment b'fore releasin' the sabre, I slashed it downwards wit' all my might. Damn! This time I couldva killed her, but she was so damned fast. I jus' nicked 'er sligtly in th' forearm.

"Y'treacherous scum! Ye asked fer it!" somehow her word came to me as if from great distance. Th' room was whirling. Th' world slowed down it's spinnin'. I began to fall down, but it looked like minutes b'fore I actually hit th' ground. I wus lying on th' floor on my right side, unable to move.

"So, th' poison took it's time!" it must've been gov'nor's voice. I couldn't see a thin'. All was blurred.

"Yep, we got 'im now fer sure." 'Twas Poison Lips. "Oh, and one more thin'"

Somethin' big an' brown appeared b'fore my eyes. A boot? What could a boot do in front of me eyes? Th' boot was movin' I b'lieve . It was close, very close, really close. I saw a flash of blindin' light and then nothin'. Not even blackness. Jus' nothin'.

Well, now, that I put ye all to sleep, I'll leave quietly, not to wake anybody. I'll come back to Ye House of Pyrates t'morrow an' lann ye th' rest of this story. B' sure ta meet me 'ere. Jack 'th Slimy'll be servin' French dry red fer half th' price t'morrow.

Glad to see ya came in. Jus' don't speak too loudly. My head feels as if I had lit a powder keg in it. 'Tmust be this ale from cap'n Cognito, I b'lieve. Th' strongest stuff I sampled i a long time.

Anyway, jus' as I said, Jack th' Slimy has a special offer fer ya - dry red fer half th' price. Hmmm... well... Have one on me, all of ya. Know me by my generousnes. But enough babblin' I've gotto finish th' story I started last evenin'. Ye all sittin' comfortably? Ahem...

I woke up in a cold, damp place. My head hurt even worse than after Coggy's ale. Breathin' wus also quite difficult, Even though I had trouble wit' openin' my eyes, I felt I was hangin' on some kinda chains. There were cold an' thick iron manacles 'round my wrist. They must'va been nailed to th' ceilin, as I wus literally hangin' on m' arms. My feet barely touched th' ground. Judgin' from th' pain in my arms an' shoulders I wus hangin' like this fer quite some time. I couldn't sense my own hands. I opened my eyes at last with great effort. Nothin' changed. Not a soddin' difference. All wus black like my dirty nails. I had a moment of panic. Was I blind? Why couldn't I see a soddin' thing? Dunno how long I wus hangin' in there, all I could do was to think. An' th' more I wus thinkin' , th' more angry I was becomin'.

Suddenly somethin' begun to change. Light? Somethin' was moving in front of me. I could hear footsteps. At least two persons. They were carryin' light with 'em - I could see 'eir shadows on th' wall. Not so bad aft'r all - I still had my eyes. All I could do was to wait fer 'em. I quickly glanced 'round th' room. It looked like some kinda cavern. 'Twas definitely below th' ground. Judgin' from th' moisture on th' walls, mebbe even below th' sea level. Hundred of them bugs were crawlin' slowly on th' walls.

They appeared behind th' corner. Th' light of small oil lamp blinded me fer a brief moment. Three figures approached silently. When they got closer, my weary eyes could see 'eir faces. Jus' as I 'xpected, Joanne wus amon' them. Her grin was unmistakable. Th' other 'un wus th' gov'nor, this lil' bugger. Th' third one I couldn't recognize. He wus very tall an' muscular an' wus wearin' black execuctioner's mask. So, this day came at last. I prepared m'self fer death as th' three were silently observin' me. Joanne wus th' first to break th' silence.

"How are ya feelin' darlin'?" she scoffed "Want some water? That's good, 'cause ye'll be gettin' none."

"Bitch." 'Twas th' only thin' I could say. I wanted to shout it, but I was hardly louder than a whisper.

"Antoine ordered 'is men to build a special gallows 'specially fer ya. Y'should be proud, such an honour fer such a piece of shit as yerself." Joanne spat on th' floor. "But before he kills you, I'd like to have some fun wit' ye first."

"It was her idea, captain" said the gov'nor "Just make sure he's still alive at the execution tomorrow."

He turned and left. Joanne wa watchin' 'im as he went ahead.

"Pathetic fool!" she spat as he disappeard behind th' corner of th' corridor. "Let's get down to business, Crash. Rob, get ready."

"Whaddya wanna know?" I wanted to save 'em th' trouble.

"Know? Nothin'. I don't wanna know nothing. I wants to hear ye screamin, that's all." Joanne smiled warmly. "Fer ol' times' sake. Oh, by th' way. I almost forgot, I brought ye this." She said and produced a lil' mirror. There wus some savage-lookin' face inside it. All covered in dirt and dried blood, wit' reddened eyes. Th' most prominent feature of th' face wus terribly broken, swollen nose. 'Twas my face, I realised. That's why th' breathin' wus so hard. I turned my head with great effort.

"Don'tcha like whaddya see?" Poison Lip's mirth turned into insidious laughter. She was insane! "I gave ye a new face cap'n, jus' as ye gave me." She kicked me in th' belly. Sudden movement sent 'nother wave of astonishin' pain into my arms. Struggled not to scream I bit my lower lip until fresh blood appeared on my chin.

"Rob, ye can start now. I'll watch." She moved to th' side. The big fella took a terryfin' many knotted lash from th' rack and moved behind me. As he walked I could only marvel at 'is powerful muscles movin' behind a black tunic. Wit' th' corner of th' eye I saw 'im takin' a wide swing. I prepared m'self fer a deadly blow, but despite th' manacin' looks, this Rob fella hit like a girl. I almost laughed. I mean it did hurt, but it didn't even cut my skin. I remeber once I saw a public lashin' where an torturer half his size hit th' prisoner so hard, that 'e sent a bits of flesh flyin' into th' crowd. Them peasants were pukin' like drunk pigs.

Another hit, and one more. The lashes were slashin' the air with a loud whiz, but the blow 'tself was girlish. Where did they take this Rob from? Th' blows must'va looked quite deadly, but th' effects were surprisingly light. Alluva sudden Rob moved 'is head to my ear. "Scream" he whispered.

"What an idiot! I'd ne'er scream, even under really fiendish tortures." I bit my teeth and didn't scream, even when one of th' knots finally tore th' skin in one place.

He moved once again towards my head. "Scream, cap'n"

What was that. I begun t' suspect somethin' wus amiss. Could it be one of me mateys? Joanne wus sittin' in front of me, so she couldn't see my still intact back. She saw only Rob's powerful blows. Th' next time th' whip hit me I moaned quietly. Joanne's grin became wider an' she shook 'er head in disgust.

As th' next painless blows fell on my back, I screamed from pain, cried fer mercy, begged fer life. How lon' was it goin' to take? - I started wanderin'.

A powerful tremor followed by th' sound of great exposion shook me in my chains. Poison Lips stood up an' ran outa th' chamber. She turned to Rob. "Jus' don't kill 'im yet or I'll flay ye myself. I'll be back in a moment."

When she disappeared I screamed loudly once again. Rob moved to th' front of me and pulled out 'is hood. Terrifyin' red face came to th' light. I knew 'im. Standing about seven feet tall, with long black hair of a savage, red skin and those notorious deep ritual scars on th' cheeks, that made 'im one of th' most ferocious lookin' marines. 'Twas Chief, that's what we called 'im. 'Th mere sight of 'im struck panic in th' hearts of my enemies. Chief effortlessly lifted me and threw me over one of 'is shoulder like a rag. He grabbed th' chains that held my hands and pulled at 'em hardly. After a third try th' stone ceilin' gave up and 'th heavy iron chains fell to th' chamber's floor with a terrible noise.

"How..?" I begun to ask.

"No time" interrupted Chief. He definitely wasn't a talkative 'un.

I marveled at 'is strength when he grabbed the iron chains and threw 'em o'er the other shoulder and quickly run towards the corridor th' Joanne jus' left.

"Whussappenin' up there, Chief?"

"Later" said garrulous Indian.

I could easily hear the sounds of a battle. We were climbin' th' steep stair. Well, Chief wus climbin' and I wus bouncin' on 'is back, to tell ye th' truth. I wus so soddin' weak. The fire of muskets and cries of various men filled th' air when we finally made it to th' open air. 'Twas a sunset, but still th' light blinded me after th' long stay in th' dungeons. We were in th' middle of a French fortifications. My pirates swarmin' everywhere like bees. Dead bodies were lyin' all around. Wit' satisfaction I noticed most of 'em be red-coated soldiers and citizens. My mates knew their job even if I wusn't 'round. I was proud of 'em, that's sure as powder is explosive.

Chief carried me al th' way to th' 'Factol Skall'. When we were on board he laid me on th' deck and called few sailors to pin down my legs an' arms. They did as 'e ordered. Chief sat on my chest, pushin' th' air outta my soddin' lungs. Fer a moment I thought 'twas a mutiny after all. That my boys saved me only to make me walk th' plank themselves. I became convinced when Chief raised 'is hand and slapped my poor nose. A new fountain of blood spattered th' sailors on th' right side. I wus beginning to lose consciousness. Then Chief grabbed my head and pulled my nose. Somethin' cracked an' once more I fell into nothin'ness.

Yep, that wus it. Th'next time I woke up in Anguilla. An' after all I'm grateful fer Chief. My nose'll ne'er be pretty again, but at least it's in front of me, not on my cheek. And y'know even though me boys razed St. Lucia to th' ground, they didn't find no sign of Joanne th' Poison Lips 'cept fer th' three of my pirates she killed. I'd bet our paths 'll meet again, tho.

Well, that's 'bout it. Whaddya think of th' story? Well, I'll raise my tankard wit' ye fer all th' brothers an' sisters too far away to be wit' us 'ere. Cheers! <gulp, gulp, gulp>

Story 9

Ahoy there, ye stinky bastids, lon' time no see. I've returned to Ye House of Pyrates after th' drinkin' bouts of th' last week an' brought ye a brand new tale.

This time I've brought ye a story from th' Spanish town of Campeche. It's jus' a small town, hardly even worth th' effort to be looted. I 'ad to stop there ta get fresh supplies o' livestock an' rum. 'Twas not one of my most successful voyages, that's sure as th' Spaniards are rich. We had trouble wit' findin' any ships, an' even when we finally saw one an' chased 'er down we found nothin' worth stealin' on 'er. I thought there'd be plenty of prey sailin' on these waters, but seemed I wus wrong. B'sides we 'ad a really hard time man'vering between th' jagged reefs. Me boys were gettin' a lil' bit restless and if'n 'twasn't enouff, we were startin' to run out of supplies. That's why I decided to stop in Campeche.

I gave th' 'Factol Skall' to th' shipwright fer careenin', so we had a full week to enjoy our stay in this lil' town. Jus' as usual, most o' me boys spent all o' their hard-earned pesos on local whores an' rum. I wusn't bored either, I must say. I guessed I tried every tap in every tavern out there, jus' as I tried e'ery whore in this godforsaken rathole. Har, har, har! 'Twas fun, me tells ye! But enough babblin' lemme get straight to th' point.

While sittin' in un' of th' unnamed taverns one night I saw a stange lookin' fella sittin' by th' bar. He wus wearin' brown habit of a monk, but 'twas tattered beyond recognition, as if th' poor sod was sleepin' under th' open sky fer th' last few months. He was bearded also. Bearded monk? I asked m'self - strange look indeed. 'Nother bizarre thin' 'bout 'im wus that he didn't have no monkish sandals or anythin' but he wus wearin' sturdy traveller's boots, an' 'twas quite a worn pair, if I e'er saw one. I sat down and smoked my pipe, all th' time keepin' a peery eye on th' monk.

"It's for your excellent ale, noble barkeeper. Magnificent ale!" said th' monk. He wus talkin' strange as fer th' ragged beggar that he obviously wus.

Suddenly me poor eyes almost fell outta my soddin' skull when I saw what th' monk put on th' table. 'Twas a gold nugget, big as th' musket bullet! I gasped fer breath, almost swallowin' my pipe, pushed my eyes back on their place and sat back on my chair. Th' whole tavern went completely silent in an instant, 'cept fer Pete th'Cook who farted so powerfully, that he blew th' mug o' grog off th' table.

B'fore I could do anythin', a thin sly-lookin' native sat down on th' stool next to th' monk.

"Barkeep! Bring th' ale for me and my best friend!" he patted th' monk on th' shoulders.

I got up and went to this fella.

"Oi, berk! That's my place!" I said and pushed 'im off th' stool. He stood up and hit me with 'is fist. I grabbed 'im, lifted 'im from th' ground and threw 'im out through th' window.

'Say, m' friend, wherd'ya take th' nugget from?" I asked in friendly tone.

"Oh, I found it" th' monk wus either stupid or 'xtremely naive. Prob'ly both.

"D'ye have more?"

"Sure I've got full pouch. Want some?"

Oh man, this guy must been insane - I thought to m'self.

Oh, bloody 'eaven! Me gotta finish fer now. Me knows ye'll miss me, but ne'er worry - I'll be back soon, har, har, harr

<The door to Ye House of Pyrates opens with a squeak an' Cap'n Crash 'imself enters th' tavern. He looks 'round, takes th' smokin' pipe outta 'is bearded mouth, spits on th' floor an' tosses few coins to th' servin' maid.>

Rum fer me an' me friends, but quickly! I didn't finish th' story yest'day, so I came back to continue. Prepare t'be shocked, mateys!

As I said yest'day, this monk wanted to gimme 'is gold! Without a single threat from m' side! 'Fcourse I took few nuggets an' examined 'em thoroughly. Real gold! I asked this fella where did he found it, but he only pointed th' general eastern direction an' said he found gold there.

I tried to pursue th' subject further, but somethin' interrupted me. 'Twas a quite a numerous group of locals marchin' through th' city square right towards our tavern. They were holdin' various clubs, knives an' other weaponry. Th' lil' blackhaired guy I threw through th' window wus leadin' th' mob. I 'ad a feelin' a major riot was on it's way. My anxious boys spat on their hands and drew their own cutlasses, laughin' maniacally all th' time.

"Give us th' monk, ye thieves! We found him first!" shouted th' little guy. I could only laugh. "Give us the monk or else..." he stared at me menacingly.

"Or else what?" I still couldn't stop laughin'.

"Come an' get 'im ye smelly whoreson! He's ours now!" replied one of my pirates.

Needless to say, a nice battle erupted b'tween us an' th' citizens. They fought valiantly an' there were many more o' 'em, but me boys are bloody fierce themselves. They be veterans of countless boardin' actions an' town raids, so we put up a nice fight. A lil' riot soon turn'd into a bloody battle. After few hours of street fightin' th' neighbourhood wus all razed to th' ground. I went into th' tavern again, but th' monk wus nowhere t'be found. 'Tis a shame - I thought to m'self. I jus' hope we'll meet 'im again soon.

Meanwhile my boys were gettin' tired an' we lose few of us to th' angry crowd. There were hundreds of these villains 'round, so eventually we 'ad to retreat towards th' dock an' 'Factol Skall'.

As we sailed away from Campeche I walked to th' stern an' looked at th' destroyed town. Most o' th' buildin's were on fire, bodies lyin' everywhere. 'Tis strange that no matter if we come to th' town to pillage an' plunder or jus' to 'ave a drink or two, it always ends in th' same way, ain't it? At least we 'ad a lotta fun hackin' them bloody peasants to pieces, har, har, har!

Story 10

It seems I have a pretty bizarre 'un fer ye this time. On my last voyage, few days after leavin' Tortuga I noticed an awful smell somewhere in my cabin. I thouht 'twas a dead rat or somethin', but I searched every cabinet, chest an' drawer an' found nothin'. I even moved the furniture, jus' to see if there's no dead rat beneath. Still nothin'. An' believe me, th' stench wus gettin' worse an' worse wit' every day. I couldn't bear it anymore an' had to move from my cabin on th' stern to th' crew's dormitory until I find th' source of th' terrible smell. I wus even plannin' to order th' ship's carpenter to tear open th' wooden floor an' remove th' rotten rat carcasses that must've been decayin' in there, I was sure of that. I got up an' went on to find th' carpenter.

"Sail ho!" I heard a cry from th' crow's nest.

I looked in th' direction th' man was pointin'. 'Twas a single pinnace flyin' Danish colours. Well, better a pinnace than nothin', I said an' ordered my crew to get ready fer boardin'. Pinnace is much faster ship, so we 'ad to use a lil' subterfuge. We were flyin' French colours ourselves, to deceive all traders and battleships alike. I sent an "exchange information" flag. Jus' as I hoped they accepted an' lowered their sails. We were comin' towards th' unsuspectin' pinnace with evil grins on our ugly faces. Pretendin' to maneouver 'gainst th' wind we turned in such a way, that we had either port side or star board guns aimed at 'em most of th' times.

Unexpectedly, when we were already in shootin' distance, they raised full sails alluva sudden an' run as fast as if th' devil 'imself was chasin' 'em. My boys anly spat wit' disappointment. They must'va seen sumthin' that made 'em bolt  I wus wanderin'  but what in th' nine 'ells could they see? I looked 'round th' ship but there were no signs of us practicin' our dark trade. I shrugged an' went to my cabin once again. This time th' sun rays were fallin' through th' lil' windows on th' stern. Somethin' was strange 'bout this light, though. 'Twas as if somethin' wus blockin' them. I walked slowly towards th' window. Th' stench was overwhelmin'. I was beginning to feel a bit nauseous from it, but managed to get to th' window an peer through it.

Sudenly it all became clear. I slapped my forehead wit' realisation of what was causin' me so much trouble. Danglin' on th' rope jus' beside my windows was th' rotten carcass of Coggy's poor cook! I completely forgot 'bout this wretched creature! I hanged 'im by th' ankle insuch a way that I could admire th' sight from my cabin's windows. An' I forgot to cut 'im down when th' bugger died!

'Tmust be a fate, y'know. This bastid cook wus causin' me trouble even after 'is death. I'm not very superstitious person, but jus' in case I burned th' body and spattered the ashes in all directions from th' crow's nest. I jus' hope I got rid of 'im once an' fer all.

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