February 23rd, 1635.

I wus standing in tha town square of tha French town 'o St. Kitts South after recruiting a few more men and an officer. Well, I decides ta visit tha gov'nor this day 'n as I entered tha geezers posh 'ouse, tha Git asks me what I wants. So I talks to 'im, politely of course, and tha poncey French bastid tells me ta piss off in no uncertain terms!
So I asks yew, what could I do? I had less dan twenty marines, a handful 'o muskets, and hardly any bleedin' ammo fer me cannons! Well me hearties, I tells ye what I did... I attacked tha friggin' town - dats what.

Now I knows a full-on assault 'o tha place would be suicidal, even though dis French cess-pitt be lightly guarded.
Me landin' party consisted of ney more'n fifteen marines - and no cannons fer support. So we's gotta be a bit clever in us approach to tha assault.
Anyhow, instead 'o sendin' in me men straight away, I gets me Brig ta up-anchor 'n slowly sail parallel to tha dock where a group 'o townsfolk 'n redcoats where gathered watching a poor swab be hanged by 'is neck until 'e wus dead.
Tha unsuspecting buggers left it too late ta see me ship open up wit a good raking of tha dock, and tha silly buggers where blown ta bits try'n ta flee tha commotion.
Me gunners aboard tha Brig were a bit too eager though, 'cos tha swabs blew up tha shipwrights and a warehouse too!

Anyhow, silly landlubbers have a tendency to be curious buggers, and it wasn't long before another swarm of 'em headed fer tha dock ta see what wus happenin'.
Blew those bastids ta bits too.

Now, me waitin' marines looked on in glee as only a handful 'o townsfolk remained, and we wasted ney time in 'elpin' ourselves to all tha meagre riches of this fine French hovel.

Well maties, low and bleedin' well behold, tha French greaseball gov'nor wus all apologetic towards his behaviour to me when we knocked on 'is door. In fact, tha quivering swine wus more'n willin' ta let one 'o me fine officers succeed 'im in tha post 'o new 'pirate' gov'nor 'o St. Kitts South.

As fer Mr Frenchy bastid, well, he likes 'is new home atop me mast in a nice lil' gibbet cage we prepared fer him earlier.

After a few rums wit me mates and a bit 'o whorin' wit tha surviving gentry wenches, we's headin' fer Margarita on tha 'morrow.

Cap'n Cognito, 23rd day 'o February, 1635.