Catching Up

Wednesday June 11th, 1719

Dear Diary

Don’t ye be looking at me like that. I’ve already got me enough troubles for the whole British Navy, I don’t need ye makin' me feel guilty for not writin' in ye more.

It appears others be makin' use of ye in me absence though, so ye can’t be too lonely. Let me have an eyeball at what Tubby wants.

Hammocks and extra blankets? Does that blubberin’ ball o’ lard think me made of gold? And if I had laid me eyes on this leave of absence nonsense sooner I woulda raised the sails fast enough to leave his absent-minded self on that bleedin’ island!


At least he be smellin’ of those tasty spices. Dinner might actually be worth chewin’ on tonight.

I can’t believe me, the Captain of this miserable boat, be stuck with a three-legged table thanks to one of me men wantin’ a peg leg. I’ll have to get that back once that ninny has collapsed into his next drunken coma. Which ought to be any second now.

Arrrrgh, this pain in me shoulder be like the devil himself be drivin’ his pitchfork into me flesh. I suppose I’ve underestimated at least one of me men - I never woulda thought they’d get up the nerve to take a shot at me. Can’t say I be surprised their aim be as poor as their sea legs.

That Puppyfish feller I dragged out of the drink is getting madder by the minute. Needless to say, he be fittin' in just fine with the rest of this lot.

Frenchy, that ravin' idiot, went and killed Two-Tooth over some buxom wench, can ye believe that? I’d do him in meself but he’s the only man onboard, aside from meself of course, who knows which way the pointy end of a cutlass goes. Though, I must confess Diary, he does remind me awful fierce of someone I done met before. Too bad all this grog has addled me brains, else I might recall who. Or at least where.

Speakin' of the past… of all the islands, in all the seas, she had to be sailin’ round this one. Oh my fiery Maria… you’d be a lass me mother woulda been proud to have brought home. And what a fine ship she’s got under those fine legs! Not that I know what the devil La Fuchsia Taverna is supposed to mean. Still a sight better than The Pink Daffodil, I’ll give her that.

I’m goin' to have to be keepin' a closer eye on that Jimmie lad, he went missin' today and be offerin' no explanation for his whereabouts. Mighty suspicious. If I didn’t know better, I’d be worried he went for a visit with La Capitana and came back with poison for me grog.

That woman sure knows how to hold a grudge. I bet ye, even after all these years, she still remembers the names of those French maids she found me with. “Just some innocent fun”, I tolds her. But she was havin' none of that, I’ll tell ye! Ye would think I had asked her to swab me poop deck.

Women. Just can’t be made to see reason.


Captain Bottoms

The End

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