In honor of September 19th...
T'was a busy week here, both on the high seas and in port. Many a scurvy dog thought to flaunt the King's law, keeping those of us working under his royal writ scrambling about like a monkey in the yardarms during a storm 'bout the Cape...
Dealt with one lad in particular... an early eve, and he was already in his cups, the stench of rum and ale thick about him. The blighter thought that it was the manly thing to do to beat the missus, be she wench or maid; so naturally the poor lass called for aid. Well, when our longboat arrived the scurvy dog was yet wandering 'bout his docks, yelling and threatening all with great harm and generally disturbing the King's peace and acting no gentleman he.
So my shipmate and I entreat the gentleman to peaceably relate his tale, that we may continue to work under the Crown's writ. With the grog thinking for the man he turns his foul impugnment upon us and our work, and we are forced to use both manacles and irons to bring him before the magistrate to face royal justice...
Well, as many do when in custody and manacles, the bilge rat was full of liquid courage... threatening all and sundry with all manner of vile curses, swearing how he shall flog and beat us all, that we'll walk the plank and be in Davy Jones' locker before the sun rises that morn... That the King's law would not stand, and he would see us all before the mast for such indignities... and all the other things that those in his state babble.
Of course, he was still thrown in the brig, and I went home to a peaceful sleep....
Ahoy for now mateys, and more tomorrow eve...
2 comments:
A fair bit o' writin', Luv. Makes me proud to be yer wench.
But rest assured, you and First Mate Dori have that young lad with the Jedi sword to assist.
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