Drunken Recollections of a Scotsman at Sea
Right, so. Bin at brine a solid good couple months now. Crew's a right good lot so far as I ca' tell, got a blessed little bastard of a Chinaman who keeps me an' me jug topped right up when he's not putting us lot back tagether, got a cook who can roast the ass off a ham at 30 paces just by shoutin' at it, an' got ourselves a fancy lad who's a fookin' riot at bein' a fancy lad. Get in yer cups and listen to 'im go, getcher self a good night ahead o' ya o'er the tales o' the Sea Lion. Gotta lotta others 'round th' way that come by when I'm swabbin' the shite out o' me section o' deck s'well, down fer a pint wit' 'em all! Cap'n's holed up tae he'self more often'n no, but we see plenty o' her officers 'round. Still nae certain if I heard it meself or just the drink talkin', but could swear by god I heard 'er shoutin' on not wantin' to do it naemore just the other night!
Probably the drink talkin'. Does that a lot.
Speakin' o' that devil in particular, looks like the crew's all wanderin' past to see what goormit's comin' outta Gravy's pot tonight, and I got a still o' some kinda moonshine I came across in wine country goin' to check on right outside. 'Tween the stew in our bellies and the 'shine in our cups, looks to be a proper good night, an' some man brings out 'is squeezebox an' starts singin' the tales o' some Irishman on the sea. Fook the Irishman! I start singin' a proud Scotsman drinkin' ballad right back at 'em, but not before Toescabs hauls on over an' smacks the shite out o' our singer fer singin' 'bout the Irish. 'Fore it can get too awkward I toast up that fine display o' decision makin' and start right back in wit' the proper Scots drinkin' songs again. Shoutin' turns me about, and looks like the fancy lad's seen somethin' from up in the nest! Got a ship comin' in fast, wavin' real friendly, an' our Captain Cat calls 'em in for a board. Turns they're th' Oyster, sister ship to our Reaver, an' her Captain's Jean Petit come in for one last round o' celebrations before he retires back tae France fer gettin' merrit tae his woman. Black Cat congratulates 'im, but I'd almost say she seemed sad when she say she wishes she could retire 'erself.
...Yup, still the drink talkin'. We're here for celebration, and fook can I help wit' that!
The revelry goes on, everyone to their cups, and I damn near tossed the little man overboard when the crewmen had 'im arm wrestle me! Took it good humor though, and gave me a hell of a bear hug and lifted me clear off deck when 'e took 'is feet again! Thought I'd lose my liquor on 'im, but 'is point got made and we toasted to more good 'ealth! The party pulled up some o' the crew I dinnae see s'much, the gunner stumpin' 'round on 'is stump an' the lady wit' th' rose tattoo whippin' the
shite out o' some drunk Oyster whose 'ands got a bit o' wanderin'. An' that ain't even the most fun o' th' eve. Somewhere 'long the line, Gravy comes out and dumps our fancy lad at Toescab's feet, who then kicks the shite out of
him 'fore he ties him to the mizzen fer bargin' in on the Captain. Must've seen 'er skivvies fer that kinda punish.
'Ventually, the Oyster crew rounds itself up and fooks off back tae their decks after one more round, an' I find meself a comfortable spot right where I fell down tae sleep the night off. Our Sea Lion's still tied up at attention, an' our Chinaman's th' only one 'llowed tae give em water. Soon's just the two o' us on deck, and I could fookin
swear I hear our Black Cat screamin' at 'er officers fer not wantin' to do it no more, and sendin' 'em staggerin' cross the deck wit' claw marks on 'er faces.
Been a hell o' a night, that's
definitely the drink talkin'. Time tae sleep that mess off.
Couple more nights go by, an' the fancy lad gets taken down off th' mizzen. When 'e works again, they send 'em back up to the crow 'til 'e shouts fer land. 'Ere's me gettin' ready to take cargo off, turns it's nae cargo this round, but those Spaniards we rounded up last go. 'Aven't a clue wot they're on about, but I know prayin' when I see it, an' I an' me crewmates that come wit' do wot we can tae make 'em comfortable. 'Tween the rest o' the crew an' the Chinaman, me, the Black Rose n' the Sea Lion, we get 'em all to land under th' kinda sedated-lookin' eye o' the Black Cat.
Probably had a hell o' a bender las' night. I sympathize, Cap'n.
We march 'em through a jungle like I never seen b'fore, an' I NEVER seen anythin' like the colorful stepped temple we come up on when we break on through. Got a buncha folk that don't look right wanderin' 'round this lil village, an' we tie up these poor Spaniards tae some posts 'round the temple. This ain't sittin' right, but I ain't about to raise a fuss. Maybe this is what they do 'round here. An' that's when she shows up. Beautiful young woman, naked as the day she's born comes walkin' down that temple, an' I can
hear her. In Highland Gaelic, no less! She don't look like any Scotswoman I e'er seen, or I never woulda left the place! Somewhere in it all I 'ear 'er name. Xupki. Yeah, ne'er heard no Scotswoman named Xupki. Somethin's fookin' strange, but I can't turn me eyes from 'er. She comes up to the Black Cat first, calls 'er 'er favorite supplicant. Fooked if I know what that is, but maybe she's...
An' that's when she starts kissin' em. One by one 'round the ring o' tied up Spaniards, she kisses 'em and leaves 'em emptier than me flask is set to be after this. Those folk who don't look quite right just got 40 men added to 'em. An' when she finishes makin' the rounds and comes back to the Cat, all she says is "another year o' plunder an' raids." An' that's when we get the
fook out o' there. I need a drink more'n I ever needed one before, an' I have
needed some drinks in me life.
Gettin' back on the ship is much faster, and we haul off tae a place we can do some trade that don't involve bodies an' souls. Chops gets more fer 'is medicine, Stumps more fer 'is guns, Gravy more fer 'is pot, Sea Lion more fer 'is pride. We lost track 'o the Black Rose somewhere 'long the way til we 'ear 'er whip crackin' at some poor sod who must've pissed 'er off. I shamble off ready to aid a crewmate just in time to see some Irish bastard run 'er through on 'is blade. I dinnae know if 'e eard me comin', but 'e sure as shite felt me shillelagh knockin' the piss out o' 'is 'ead! Went down screamin' to save me soul 'fore scamperin' wit' 'is mates, an' I'll do my penance on me soul right after I make sure 'er soul stays right where it is. I scoop up the wounded lass and make fer the ship at a quick shamble, hollerin' fer Chops tae do 'is work. 'E meets me on the beach an' closes 'er wounds wit' gunpowder, which innit even the craziest thing I seen taday. Toescabs comes haulin' out ta get the report, an' goes as gray as I do when I wake up some mornin's on findin' I clubbed an Irishman half to death. Turns out the squeezebox legend's got more truth to it than we thought.
I need a fookin' drink.
(Subtitle: How We Missed Every Fucking Sign We Were Given)