Gaargh, I awokes half black, half red, and all hurtin’ with the sun’s malicious glare in me eye. It took a moment to detach me face from the tarry deck; ‘twould be a long day o’ rippin’ pitch from me beard. ‘Twere a fine night’s revellin’ in our latest victory, which I’ll be re-tellin’ to ye now in hopes o’ me hangover subsidin’.
Some days before, meself, Umberto an’ me new crew o’ poppy-perplexed puffers had heroically fled the isle o’ Merkin aboard the Sirrup o’ the Sea. Arr, ‘twere an ill name for a pirate ship, but it’d serve till I’d rescued me erstwhile crewmates from the clutches of ye dastardly Kneehorn. I feared for me band o’ cutthroats an’ deviants in the hands o’ the British navy. However, I were mainly hopin’ to toot on me poppy-pipe an’ spend a blissfully delirious day in Mistress Squidlington’s all-singin’ all-dancin’ Cockle Club.
Yarr, me plans were disturbed by Umberto’s bellowin’ about catchin’ some mutatered turtle. I were suddenly overcome by a frightful flashback o’ o’ the stench within’ such a beast’s belly as I staggered t’ Umberto’s aid. Bless ‘is ‘eart, Umberto’d hooked a weird ‘un and no mistake. ‘Twere only as we hoisted it up that its crusty shell were revealed to be me own Monty McBuboe clingin’ on for dear life, ‘is pustulent flesh raw from ye brine and vigorous floggin’. I were delighted to have me leprous pal back in the galley once more. The rest o’ me crew were not so keen, but bein’ in the throes o’ detoxificatin’ they’d little appetite anyways.
Monty’d been booted overboard by Kneehorn for fear o’ pestilence. ‘Twere entirely justified - Monty’d been voted Top Plague Vector o’ the Year for five years runnin’. Nonetheless, he’d news o’ me lads: Kneehorn’d sequestered ‘em on his notorious prison island where hangin’ be ye only respite.
This were the spur I were needin’ to kick me habit and Captain me ship once more. Umberto proposed a two step programme to get me back on me peg. Step one – be drinkin’ herbal yoghurt drinks to purify ye body. Gaargh, I’d rather suckle on Monty’s buboes. Step two – be talkin’ through ye issues, so we started a support group named ‘Poppycock’. We’d meet amidships to shiver an’ retch to pass the time. Monty an’ Umberto whisked away our supplies in the night for dopin’ ye fishies, so they’d bob eager-like to the surface. Aarr, ‘twere a source o’ no little contention an’ sadly led to some o’ the lads desperately gnawin’ the fishy spines for a taste o’ poppy an’ chokin’ t’death on them tiny bones.
Me cravin’s faded, as did me dreams o’ one day singin’ baritone alongside Murray Eel and the Planktones. I were heart-broke when Umberto ‘em as drug-fuelled delusion. Yaarr, me lethargy were gone an’ me naturally irritable nature resurfaced like a poorly-weighted corpse. I seized the wheel once more, an’ spun ‘er portwise for Kneehorn and me lads. As we neared the Inhospitable Atoll me crew were but little recovered. In truth their whinin’ an’ poor bowel-mastery’d caused me t’evict a number of the droolin’ wasters already; perhaps they’d make it back to their crotch-cochetin’ isle, should the fishin’ lines they were tied to somehow snap.
I’d a plan to re-take me crew, a darin’ rescue requirin’ swashbucklin’ and valour. This plan I put to me finest: Umberto, Monty an’ the least scabrous o’ me wretches, Johnny Scuttle. Given me resources, I were forced to re-evaluate me plan. An alternate stratagem arose, takin’ more account o’ the excess cannon-fodder we carried. Accordin’ly I directed Monty to brew up some war-juice. He mixed up the rum, brine and rottin’ fish with a sprinklin’ of ye opium to tweak the layabouts’ interest.
We crept up under cover o’ night – there be little honour in spotted an’ bein’ spotted an’ slain by light. ‘Tis far nobler, an’ may I say more fun, to come upon ye enemy from the shadows. We dosed up the crew and despite it’s foulness they gulped it down like gourmets. Clearly, the time spent chewin’ on me hempen ropes’d paid off. They were a-twitchin’ with the lethal juices and when one bit off ‘is own hand we knew it were time to unleash ‘em.
Me scurvy and psychotic crew swarmed up the walls and fell upon the soldiers with a savagery unknown to the sober, belying their formerly kittenish weakness. I bade Umberto an’ McBuboe to wait a mo’, lest we be mistook. I spied me moment when Kneehorn isself appeared, lashin’ at me beserkers with ‘is riflemen. Twere an excellent diversion an’ I cast a small prayer o’ longevity upon ‘em before slippin’ into the jail.
It felt grand to have a blade in me good hand and an extra-sharp hook in place o’ t’other. The guards were losin’ at dice when we ran ‘em through. Perhaps the ill-luck’d run out the holes an’ grant ‘em a fine afterlife; in truth I cared little, but ‘tis the thought what counts. ‘Twere a simple matter to free me lads. They was in a sorry state, but we pressed arms into their hands and shoved ‘em down the drains.
The roar o’ battle echoed through the tunnels as me crazed minions threw ‘emselves at Kneehorn’s soldiery. Herr Doktor Gunther Garment were waxin’ lyrical on the restorative properties o’ Monty’s brew, whilst poor Barry muttered darkly of ‘is lost wardrobe (aar, it’d taken promise o’ new shoes t’extract ‘im from ‘is cell).They were hardly spoilin’ for a fight, but it seemed Kneehorn were not quite the cretin I liked to take ‘im for. Our eyes met as we dashed across the pier. By the torchlight I saw ‘is noggin were blistered still from our rude treatment and ‘ad to stifle a laugh. Tis hard enough shinnin’ up a rope without a fit o’ the giggles. Though to be fair, the gun shot were not simplifyin’ ye challenge.
Thankfully Johnny were manning the deck still. All we heard were a ‘sprang’, a startled scream an’ the mighty ‘thwack’ o’ the cabin-boy slammin’ into the Admiral. Gaargh, bless that catapult, though god only knows what purpose its maker’d intended. We let out a ragged cheer and loaded the next comatose crewman into the net.
From our safer vantage, there looked to be but few o’ me ravin’ troops left, so I let Billy an’ Johnny pick ‘em off with crossbows. Arr, ye may think me callous but I were sparin’ ‘em the agonisin’ death than Monty’s concoction promised. We plucked Mick from a crow’s cage on the way out, leavin’ the port and jail in a fine conflagratin’. Gaargh, Monty’d even found time to t’acquire some grog an’ a few chests o’ the bounty what’d been on our skulls, it seemed only right that they be in our clammy mitts instead.
We talked over the namin’ o’ our vessel, mindful of its cost in both blood and booty. An’ so it came to pass that the Grim Bastard sailed forth for further piratical adventurin’. Gaargh, they be happy times in me mind, I’d granted me wig-makin’ pals a heroes death and no longer suffered their sickliness and lackadaisical ship-sense. Me satisfaction were only slightly o’ershadowed by the new prices laid upon our heads by our beloved King. That, an’ that the course we plotted were not quite as accurate as we might be hopin’ for.
