William Brand

I checked me powder then, not sure what good it could or would be in a fight that promised unnatural enemies. Still, the checking of the powder could not be helped and a pistol always feels good in one's hand. Everyone looked to me for instructions and I picked me words carefully. One wrong command or mislaid word could send them overboard. "Bring up more light on the deck and give me a report on the rigging." I said calmly to me first mate. His voice, steadied by me practiced calm returned a quick "Aye" and he went to work passing on orders as I went to the railing to collect me wits.

Ayyyyye. Libations!

Since ye be a mate, I'll not be killin' ye for that fine coat.... Must...resist...stealing...coat.

Fun. Aye.

Me jealousy knows no bounds...aye.

I be an artist, aye.

Hey now! I love Utah. I just miss the sea. Aye.

'tis not too far! If ye set sail now.... aye.

Though I be not from the SCA, I attend an event that they hold over the weekend of September 17-19th. We are having a pirate party on Friday night of that weekend. Aye. We will have pirate foods and pirate song. Any pirates near Northern Utah? Give me an ARRRRRRRRRRR!

Arrrrrr. I might be thar. I well might. Aye.

Ye better take pictures. Aye.

I pressed him twice more, but not an answer would he give. His eyes spoke terror. His clothes cried hardship. His hands, stained in old blood, whispered something sinister. He clutched a single piece of eight in one hand so tightly he was apt to drive it in. It gleamed under our close lanterns, but brought us no closer to any understanding of the tale untold. The ship seemed sound and listed not at all. I sent the carpenter below then to make what report he could of her condition.

Aye, lass. Aye.

I be birthed in Saint Elizabeth's of Washington State. I be landlocked in Northern Utah. LAND-LOCKED. As terrible a word as the hangmen's noose to a pirate. Aye.

At first I gave no order as I surveyed her beams and rigging. She was a large ship but the eyeglass showed me she was riding high in the water and freshing away under full sail. I was hard pressed not to notice her bloodied hue and me legs, though sea worthy these many years, quelled a little on the deck. Fear? Excitement? Maybe both a warranted. I passed the glass to the mate. He gazed a long time in silence. "I can't see a soul on 'er cap'n."

I may cry... ...quick! More rum. Them be damn fine head coverings. AYE.

Step one: Buy everything new. Step two: Get lost at sea for a year or two on a deserted isle with the one pair of pants, socks, etc. Step three: Get rescued. Perfectly aged costume. Great getaway. Lose weight. Learn to fish. This method is multifaceted! Aye. Arrr.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

They scattered like bilge rats. Knowing his place, each man was to his duty. I smiled at the speed to which they took flight to orders. 'Twas a sight I had grown accustomed to over the years, but it satisfied me no less than the first time I had ordered a crew to the guns.

I remained hard rooted to the spot. My mate's words washed over me like so much mist as I stood transfixed by the fog. Abscently, I thumbed the hammers of my double barreled wheellock. It gave a satisfying click which brought me round to meself and I straightened to cry out me first orders...

The water lay in icy sheets of cold moonlight. Twas as still a night as a graveyard in Heathrow. One could near sea the sheen of silver darting shadows as schools of perch passed below.

Sigh... I miss the sea.

Young pagan gods. Aye.

Well, let me see... On Speak Like A Pirate Day alone I probably said ARRRRR! about 300 times last year. ARRR!

Thar's somthin' in the rum, by George. Somethin' in the rum.