A few grand tales from that scurvy pirate,

Captain Black Mark...

"Drag up a chair, mates, the Cap'n's goin' a regale ye with a tale of me early seafarin' days, serving with the two meanest cutthroats this side of UJ. Keep the rum coming, I've got the time if yez 'ave..."

When I first took up piratin', I served under the feared Smith-Smythe twins, Freddie and Ferddie. Actually, they wasn't twins at all, jus' one man with dyslexic parents. They was 'ard men, but fair (kind of, at least that's what they told us). Anyways, after a few months on board "The Stinkin' Pig", Cap'ns Freddie & Ferddie comes up with a pproblem. They says they don't feel like proper pirates, on account o' not missing any limbs or bodily organs, so they's decided to lose a leg. Fer 8 months, they'd 'ang their left leg over the deck rail, every time we was in the thick of it, shouting out t' the scurvy dogs we was bearing down on "C'mon ye gets, right 'ere, jus' above the knee. C'mon!". We'd taken seventeen merchantmen, and still the captains 'ad both legs. So, one fine winters morning, they comes up t'me, and says "Black Mark, matey, put us out of our misery, chop me leg off, will ya? Jus' above the knee". Couldn't argue with the captains, so out comes me cutlass, an' off comes the leg, right there, jus' above the knee. We pickled the leg in a keg o' the captains finest Jamaica Rum. Usually, we dropped any spare limbs or suchlike over the side, keeps the sharks sweet, ye see. But the captains said they was attached to the leg, so they wanted to keep it. The chippy 'ad ta make a replacement fer the captains leg. He came up wi' a real masterpiece - a wooden leg wi' a musket cunnin'ly concealed inside. Ye see, every time we captured a merchant, or even the odd nobleman, the captains would see 'em in 'is cabin. There they'd be , sittin' with their left leg up on the table. If the prisoner wouldn't grovel enough, or was Spanish, or the captains was jus' pissed off, they'd blow matey boy's head off with the leg. I won't tell yez what they used to pull the trigger, as there may be ladies present, but it was a sight t'see, I kin tell yez.

Ye know 'ow ye sometimes finds some extra special goodies hidin' away in the captain's cabin, 'specially on some o' these Don galleons? Well, one day, after "persuadin'" a Don merchant te give us the contents o' his hold (aye, we wuz real charmers, I kin tell yez), we finds this fine young girly, the owner's daughter, no less. As ye may 'ave guessed, the captains take a shine te the young lady, and afore ye know it, 'es bein' all "gentlemanly" an' like, tryin' te impress 'er (not their usual way o' doin' things, yez understands, but he was proper smitten wi 'er). An', strange te tell, she wuz impressed with the captains an' all. Ahhrgg, but it weren't te be, ye see. Like I told yez afore, the captains wuz very proud o' their special leg, an' wore it most o' the time, 'specially when impressin' the ladies. Aye, yez know what's comin', me laddos,:- the captains wuz obviously enjoyin' theirselves a bit too much, when bang! (in every sense o' the word). Me an' a couple o' the lads got te the captains' cabin jus' in time te see 'is leg still smokin' an' the girly wiv 'er 'ead blown clean off. The poor old captains even 'ad a tear in their eye. Still, they allus took their leg off when carousin' from then on, I kin tell yez. The course o' true love never did run true, 'specially when yer trigger's cocked. More later, if yez likes

 

In yer piratin' life, yez all knows that ye makes enemies as well as friends, an' the captains 'ad one partic'lar enemy in the shape of one Edward Ecklethwaite, more pop'ly known as Unpleasant Eddie, Scourge o' the South China Seas, an' the worst navigator as ever held a sextant, considerin' 'e was sailin' the Caribbean. The captains an' Eddie went back a long way, 'avin' been best mates at pickpocketin' school when they was kids, at least until the captains knocked Eddie's specs inta the cess pit. Eddie never f'gave 'em fer that, an' some say as the captains went te sea te escape from 'im. Anyways, eventually we all runs inta our nemesis ('ceptin' p'raps 'Enry Morgan) an' one wet, windy mornin' off Hispaniola we runs inta Unpleasant Eddie an' his infamous crew aboard the "Psychopath o' the Seas", 'is latest acquisition, o' which 'e was very proud. We wuz only a small crew, an' the Stinkin' Pig was no more than a small brig, but the captains wuz a great motivator o' men, they used the "stick an' stick" approach, which is like the carrot an' stick approach but with another stick instead o' the carrot. The men'd foller 'em anywhere, mainly cos they knew that the captains'd foller them anywhere if they didn't. As the captains used ta say "ye can run, but no' as fast as a ball from me musket". The "Psychopath o' the Seas" wuz a flamin' corvette, "liberated" from a Frenchie escortin' a coupla merchantmen, an' we wuz really no match fer 'er 20 pieces, 'ammerin away at us from long range. We managed te knock a nice 'ole in 'er stern gallery, which made Unpleasant very angry (allus a good thin' te do), an' te avoid further damage te 'is pride an' joy, 'e called fer a parley. The captains agreed an' we arranged ta meet on a small island, no more'n 5 miles by 10, the captains an' meself, an' Unpleasant Eddie an' 'is first mate Weird Wilf Entwhistle (Eddie liked te employ only Lancashire men , I don' know why). Ye may call us stupid, an' I'll let yez jus' this once, cos we wuz stupid, but the captains kinda trusted Eddie, unpleasant though 'e was. O' course, we gets te the island te find 'alf a dozen o' Eddies meanest cutthroats already there. They 'oles our jolly boat, an' leaves us marooned on this poxy island, while Eddie takes the Stinkin' Pig an' all our mates as 'is prize.

Well, so there we wuz, all alone on this poxy li'l island in the middle o' nowhere, wi' no' even a manky ship's biscuit between us. So we starts lookin' 'round fer stuff te eat, an' what does we find but a load o' parrot's eggs. This 'ere island 'ad the densest pop'lation o' parrots in the West Indies. And when I says densest, I means thickest 'n' all. They was almost fallin' out o' the trees inta our 'ands. So, we cooks a few o' the biggest 'uns, an' rustles up a decent meal. 'Ad te make do wi' dirnkin' water, though. 'Ave ye seen what them fishes do in water? Put me right off the stuff, it did. It was on this island that the captains first got their taste fer parrots (live parrots, that is). 'E picked a lively Norwegian Blue (I know, I know) an' was abaht te teach it te talk, when it comes straight out wi' a perfect "pieces o' twelve!, Pieces o' twelve". Aye, this was an economic'lly literate parrot who was well aware o' the dangers of inflation. The captains taught 'im some o' their fav'rite phrases, like "'oos an ugly get, then?"

"Are ye dead yet?" an' "That allus 'appens when I get's too excited". The problem wi' this parrot, as we discovered later, was tha' 'e was gay. Bu' more about that later.

 

After a few days, I was walkin' along the beach like ye do when ye're marooned an' can't face another parrot fricasee, when I sees some footprints in the sand. They wuz girlie footprints, judgin' by the size an' the full complement o' toes on each foot. I follered the prints up te the edge o' the undergrowth near a small stand o' cokeynut trees, an' there she wuz, all dusky an' maidenly an' stuff . "Wahey", I thinks, "this bird be more te me likin'". So I steps up an' starts me charmin'-smarmin' talk, what's never been know te succeed in the past. She must 'ave 'ad a strong stomach on 'er, coz she didn't start gaggin', an' I must've bin a bit whiffy be then, what wiv all them parrots an' eggs, an' only water te drink. Then I realised that she didn't understand a word o' what I was sayin'. No' unusual, ye might think, but I wuz sobre. Yes, really. Anyways, we became firm friends, an' coz I couldn't pronounce 'er name, I decided te give 'er a name I could say. In time-honoured fashion, I decided te name 'er after the day I first found 'er on the beach. An' that's 'ow I ended up wi' a wife called "23rd September". Bit'v a mouthful, I knows, but it grows on yer.

 

"Now, give us a drink an' I'll tell ye more about that dodgy parrot..."

We wuz 'vntually rescued by our crew, 'bout three months later. They got pissed off wiv Unpleasant Eddie an' 'is unpleasant 'abit o' keepin' all the plunder for 'isself an' his own scurvy crew , so they mutinied and took the "Psychopath o' the Seas" while 'er crew was drunk as newts. Hur, hur, they'd bin drinkin' the captains' "pickled leg" rum (see part one o' me story fer the tale o' the pickled leg), an' wuz in fer a nasty surprise the next mornin', I kin tell yez now. 'Though 'is ship were a darn sight better'n ours, 'is crew wuz no match fer our mates in a straight fight, 'specially when they wuz all drunk an' chuckin' up all over the place.They burned the ship an' set the crew adrift in a couple o' boats. So, one fine spring mornin' we spies the "Stinkin' Pig", jus' droppin' anchor in the island's big bay. We ran down te the shore, and waited te see what wuz goin' on. I made sure that 23rd September wuz well 'idden from view, cuz we didn' know at the time whether it wuz Eddie an' his scumbags or our old mates comin' te get us. When we spotted that it wuz our crew, I tried te persuade 23rd September te come wi' us an' go fer a seafarin' life. But she weren't 'avin' none of it, so we 'ad te leave 'er behind in the little 'ouse we'd made. It weren't much of a place, but the food was free (mostly parrot) an' 'twas a fine view from the bedroom winder (lookin' in or out, hur, hur, if yez knows what I mean). I wuz torn between stayin' or leavin', oh, fer all o' 15 seconds. Mind ye, we'd go back an' visit from time te time te keep an eye things.

 

So, back te life on the "Stinkin' Pig". Now, the captains wuz gettin' attached te 'is new parrot, who he named "Olaf". That was, until Olaf started wi' the ole "Who's a pretty boy then?" routine. It got te the point where they couldn't walk inta a tavern wivout Olaf screechin' "Who's a pretty boy, then?" at the top o' his voice. The captains wuz startin' te get a reputation, an' it was gettin' difficult te get new blokes te join us. 'ventually, the captains decided that the parrot weren't the right kind o' bird fer 'im. Too girly an' not tough enough. They wuz gonna make 'im walk the plank, only we persuaded 'em it would've bin a waste o' time. Everyone know that parrots is great swimmers. So we shot 'im an' 'ad 'im mounted in the captains' cabin. Bit messy, but not so bad as yu'd notice from a distance. 'ad 'im nailed te 'is perch . The captains decided that a more macho bird wuz required, an' somehow they managed te pick up a vulture from somewhere. I ferget where 'e came from, but Vinnie was the meanest b*gger o' a bird ye could wish te meet. Unfortunately, 'e tended te get a bit 'ungry, an' one day 'e bit off the captains right ear. They weren't pleased. "I wouldn' 'ave minded if it'd bin me eye. 'Salright fer a pirate te 'ave one eye. But me ear?". We made 'em an ear patch, which cheered 'em up a bit, but Vinnie 'ad te go. Once they gets the taste fer live meat (or near enough live meat) ye can't trust a vulture, or so they says. So we shot 'im, an' 'ad 'im mounted in the captain's cabin, nailed te the perch next te Olaf. The captains' wuz still keen on some kind o' bird te sit (I mistyped that as sh*t, which is pretty close te the truth, in fact) on their shoulder, so we ended up scourin' the Spanish Main in search of a suitable critter fer the boss. 'ventually we ends up in "Peculiar Pete's Incredible Enormous Avian Emporium. Enormous Avians A Speciality", a partic'ly specialist kind o' pet shop, ye might say, on the Venezualan coast (aye, we got about a bit in them days). An' there we found the captain's perfect companion - a bleedin' great stinky, tatty, ole condor. This wuz a big bird, te be sure. Well, there wuz no contest. We tooks the bird an' the captains was 'appy as Larry. They called 'im Don Giveadam, an 'e sat on both shoulders at the same time. The captains got 'im 'ousetrained pretty damn quick, I kin tell yez. 'avin' sech a big bird 'ad one great advantage:- Don Giveadam wuz so big that 'e could carry the captains aloft in 'is talons. I'll tell yez 'bout the first time we tried it later, but now I need a drink. Who's round, then?

Like I said last time, Don Giveadamn wuz one big birdie, an' could carry the captains inta the sky, so we thought we'd give it a go next time we spotted a suitable victim. Sure enough, sailin' west o' Cartagena we spots a Spanish galleon strugglin' te make speed agin' the wind. She wuz well laden down, somethin' we allus likes te see. Now, gen'rally we wouldn't touch a galleon wid a barge-pole, seein' as we wuz so small an' all, but the captains wanted te try 'is new trick. So we 'ung back, jus' out o' range an' upwind o' the Spaniard. We loaded the captains up wid a coupla glass grenades, a small keg o' powder an made sure 'is leg were loaded an' primed. Don Giveadamn soraed into the 'eavens, like the great Roc o' legend, wid the captains danglin' from 'is talons, 'is legs gently wavin' in the breeze. I gave the order fer us te start closin' in on the galleon, which be now 'ad seen us but couldn't 'ave seen what Don an' the captains wuz up te. O' course, wid the wind be'ind 'em an wid Dons powerful wings flappin' occasionally ('e wuz a lazy bugger, an' all), the captains reached the Diego in no time, jus' as we wuz comin' inte range. We wuz approachin' 'em from ahead, so she started te turn te port te give us a blast o' er broadside. We wuz ready an' braced fer it, and wuz turnin' te starboard ourselves. I 'ad me glass te me eye, an' saw it all:- Don an' the captains suddenly descended from directly above the Spaniard. A grenade landed smack on 'er 'elm, the wheel dispappeared an' the rudder lines was broken. Damn great 'ole in 'er deck, an' all. The next one was dropped on te the centre of 'er deck, te great effect, an' 'e dropped the fused keg o' powder down the 'ole left by the grenade. Must've wiped out most or 'er gun deck. Guns went off all over the place, an' there wuz smoke all over 'er. 'E took out an officer with 'is leg gun, an' then started 'ackin at the riggin' wid 'is cutlass. The Diegos didn't know what te do. They wasn't expectin' an attack from above, an' Don Giveadamn was droppin' large messages o' condolence all over 'em an' all. By this time, we'd managed te get in a broadside at closer range, an' 'er starboard wuz badly 'oled. Bein' so 'eavy laden an' wid no 'elm te speak of, she wuz lettin' in water an' wallowin' about badly. 'Er crew wuz so stunned, an' covered in Condor sh*t, that we boarded an' took 'er wid no problems. That 'aul made the capains fortune fer sure. 'An many of us in 'is crew, an' all.

The captains wanted te call it "Tactical use of Aerial Ordinance", but we wanted te call it bombin', cuz we didn't 'ave a clue what 'e wuz talkin' about.

"Now I'm sore thirsty, so who'll stand me a large rum? I'll try te rack me brain fer more memories o' the captains fer next time..."

It's been a while since ye've 'ad a tale 'bout the Captains from me, so drag up a chair an' we'll crack open a fresh keg. I'll tell yez 'ow we took Campeche an' 'ow the Captains retired te a life o' luxury:-

The Captains wuz allus one (or two) fer fancy schemes an' crazy ideas an' such. They'd 'eard 'ow a Don treasure fleet'd be leavin' Mexico fer Spain in April, from a place by the name o' Campeche. "Arrgh, wid a treasure fleet in me pocket, I'd be set up fer life" 'e told us.

"There ain't no treasure fleet, an' even if thar wuz, there'd be warships an' galleons an' frigates an' all kinds o' big buggers like that te be protectin' em" we tol' 'im.

"Aarrghh, yus, but where's the treasure afore it gets on the ships, mates? Aye, in the warehouses o' Campeche, that's where. I ain't talkin' 'bout sinkin' no fleet, I's talkin' 'bout takin' us a town, lads. Come wid me an' I'll make us all our fortune".

 

Well, we wusn't experienced in landlubber fightin', so the Captains set 'bout gettin' together a band o' the meanest, dirtiest, scummiest scum as ever 'eld a cutlass or primed a pistol. By February we 'ad ourselves an army of a hundred an' fifty vicious marines from the gutters an' taverns o' Tortuga an' Port Royal, an' the Captains 'ad hired a disgraced artillery officer from the army te be their commander. 'E'd been cashiered cos 'e sent all 'is prisoners back 'ome, mostly over the wall in small pieces wid the assistance o' large amounts o' gunpowder. 'Is name wuz Bert Buckfast, or Bastid Bert as we called 'im.

 

nyhow, under cover o' darkness we landed at the beach a few miles from Campeche, an' made our way slowly te the town. By daybreak we wuz waitin in a field o' baccy, a few 'undred yards from the city wall an' a bleedin' great gun platform starin' us in the face. O' course, wid the sun up the Dons could see us, an' down comes the shot from the guns on the wall. We runs back out 'o range, an' the Captains 'as an 'urried chat wid Bastid Bert.

 

"So, Bert, what's we s'posed te do now, then? That's a bleedin' big wall, an' them gates ain't gonna be opened even if we knocks an' asks all polite like." says the Captains.

 

"Don't ye fret none, Captains" says Bert. "I 'as a special treat fer this kind o' situation. Li'l Bill, where are ye?"

 

We did'nt see 'im at first, mainly cos we wuzn't lookin' at the ground, but when we looked down, thar wuz Li'l Bill. Three foot two an' a maximum diameter of exactly 9 inches wid 'is helmet on.

 

"Bring up the modified piece", says Bert. two of 'is gunners wheels up a specially made gun, wid a bore of exacly nine inches.

 

"Prime the piece, boys. Bill's gonna pay these Dons a visit"

 

The gun wuz wheeled up towards the gate. A few o' the Spaniards wuz up an' about on the walls, an' a few musket balls flew past us ears, but nothin' much te worry 'bout. Seems they wuz rather over-confident o' their fortifications.

The gunner's taper touched the fuse and BLAM, Li'l Bill went over the wall from about 500 yards out.

 

"Will 'e be alright on 'is own in thar?" I asked.

 

"Li'l Bill? Alright on 'is own in a town full o' Dons? Ye don't know Li'l Bill too well, do ye?" replied Bastid Bert. "'Tis the Don women I'd be worried 'bout if'n I wuz you".

 

After a few seconds, the gates creaked open te reveal Li'l Bill an' a pile o' Spanish corpses

 

"Come on in, lads" 'e squeaked, as a couple of 'undred screamin' pirates an' marines charged up towards the town. The guns on the walls weren't placed fer firin' in te the town, an' we took the place after a mornin's 'ard fightin. Li'l Bill wuz in the fornt o' the fray, an' I 'ave te tell ye, no Don kneecap wuz safe wid 'im around. sad te say, e' bought in the gut wid a stray musket ball, an' fell on the very steps o' the governor's mansion. They gave the fight once we'd taken the governor prisoner.

 

Aarggh, Campecehe wuz filled te the brim wid Aztec gold. We really wuz set up fer life. As they lounged in the governor's quarters, the Captains saw that Bastid Bert 'ad a tear in 'is eye.

"Whats the problem, Bert?" they asked?

 

"aarggh, 'tis Li'l Bill. The greasy Dons got 'im"

"But Bert, ye must 'ave 'ad many men killed in battle in yer time" said the Captains, perplexed by the Bastid's unaccountable sorrow.

"Aye, yer right enough thar" said the saddened gunner, "but 'e wuz somethin' special. Men of his calibre are hard to come by".

 

 

"Now, landlord, a drink fer me an' all me mates..."

 

"Cheers!"

"Me 'earts as black as me flag"

 

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