Ahoy me hearties;
Made it back from San Pedro City, Belize, C.A. wit all me fingers n' toes wi out haven' ta kill a single god rottin' soul. But by the devils curly tail! Gods wounds a killin' would still brighten me mood! Twas swooth sailing on a port tack all the way down wi fair wind n' weather. On short rations. We gave up the tow outside the reef and I run thru the pass taking green water over the stbd under full sail. The best thrill of the trip, n' we was the talk of the town. We carried all our weapons n' ordanence thru town to immigration, and once again our heavily armed, scraggy, dirty, weather worn, hungry lot was the talk o' the town. Folk knew we wernt' the average Gringo right off as we didn't have to surrender no edged weapons n' was openly carrying as a Pirate should. San Pedro is a fine little Caribean tourist town wi' a cure to be found for any a sailors ills at a reasonable price. Polite friendly people wi' well spoke polite children n' no gun fire heard day or night. I hung me seabag in a low budgett hotel on the beach hotel name a Rubys at a cost o' 30usd/night wi' aplenty hot water. A finer dive I never slung off me sea boots in. Me tail sounds all good so far but there was a an ominous black cloud o' lies, deceit, theivery, n' betrayal hangin' oer' the whole affair as the Captains Sea Witch had spent up all the moneys in Key West n' the only recompense for 19 days o' cargo handling n' rigging n' 7 days ta sea was a paltry $400BZ. Which I made clear on no uncertain terms "I can't wipe me arse wi' dat!" However me n' me crew made due wit some held back plunder n' trades wi the locals fer the week we was there n' managed to have a good rowdy time wi' out no body gettin' killed or thrown in the slammer. The highlight of the week in San Pedro Town is the Thursday night "Chicken Drop". A 8ftx8ft grid wi' numbers 1-100 writ on it is set up on the beach wi' a mesh enclosure around it. Numbers are sold fer a dollar fer 6 games. A chicken is produced by Chicken Security n' a volenteer holds the said yard strutter by the wings, shakes it up, blows on its arse, n' tosses it in the ring. Whatsoever number the fowl poops on the holder of said ticket wins $100BZ. Brilliant! The sail back was another week o' muttinous grumblings on a stbd tack without event on even shorter rations. I lost ten bloody pounds and a friend. The crew promptly slung their gear ashore n' quit apon arrival in Key Weird. So beware me hearties where moneys n' Pirates be concerned. Those o' you whats knows me know what black hulled topsail schooner I used ta sail on. I'll be off on another sail fer purchase aboard another vessel to Nicaragua in May. All the while I try not ta ask meself,"What would a Pirate do?"
Cheers Mates