So I'd been swigging the rum, I don't deny it. Went on deck to clear my head a bit. The ship rolls a bit, so do I, next thing I know I'm a lot closer to the sea than I'd expected to be and the ship was somewhere over there. Can't really blame them for not staying around to pick me up, for we were near the coast of Cuba in an English ship and Spain does not like England. In fact Spain does not like anyone. At least someone chucked a dinghy over the side, which I subsequently found. Thank you, whoever you are. Other than that, my only friends in the world at this time were four pebbles which I must have picked up somewhere. On my travels between beaches I found a bunch of locals out for a walk and persuaded one of them to exchange one of my nice pebbles for his sword. That is to say, I gave him the pebble, at high speed, and while he was sitting on the ground I grabbed his sword and ran away. A bit later in another part of the jungle, someone else came at me with his sword. Fortunately I now had one of my own so I was able to relieve the miscreant of his sword, his money and his life, not in that order. So now I had enough money to buy some food and rum, as well as find someone to share them with, and here I really got lucky, for there was a right lusty lass in the tavern hoping to be picked up and trained as an officer.
The approximate boat couldn't carry much cargo, and anyway neither of us were much good with figuring out trade, so we were never going to make anything through honest trade. That left smuggling. And also odd jobs. Spanish attitudes to England, France and everyone else notwithstanding, we eventually made our way to San Juan, where someone named Vigila Mendes wanted someone else to sail with him to Martinique and back and was willing to pay for the company, so I agreed. He near fell over when he saw my vessel, and so did I, for we'd been on double rum all the way and had no intention of stopping. But a deal's a deal, so we made it to Martinique, where I fell in with a big lad name of Fred Bob who looked like a fine drinking partner. The local guard captain didn't need much persuading to let me take this lad with me, and by way of thanks Fred Bob gave me a letter for which there was supposed to be a reward.
Now the boat's rum supply was supposed to keep us going for months even at our drinking rate, but suddenly my officer was telling me we only had five days' worth. We must have been swigging the stuff a lot more than usual, and that's saying something, for there were still several barrels left.. We pulled into the nearest port, I bought another barrel, after which the officer went back to saying that we had months of rum left.
Back in San Juan, Mendes was happy enough to be back and safe, so he paid up. His former navigator had bought the farm, not figuratively but literally, and some local bandits were helping themselves to his cattle. So we went and gave them a good kicking, and in return the ex-navigator gave me a good spyglass. Now on the lookout for someone looking for a letter, I wandered into church and chatted up a lady who was in there. She turned out to be none other than the wife of the governor and not very happy about it. Estrella, her name was, and she said she'd heard of me and my exploits, which is amazing since the only exploit I could think of was the drinking of 3 months' worth of rum in 5 days. She paid me loads of money for the letter and some more for agreeing to find its writer, a pirate of some renown named Armand Delacroix.
A trip to the pirate town on Nevis resulted in meeting this Armand, and also some lad named Artois. Another rough-looking chap was beating six shades of stuffing out of him, so I beat seven shades of stuffing out of the chap, and in return Artois offered to be my navigator. Meanwhile Armand wanted help in getting his lady friend out of San Juan and off Puerto Rico entirely, and since he was offering a big load of gold, I agreed.
Back in San Juan, Estrella was happy enough to hear that I'd found Armand alive and well, for she feared he was dead, partly because I'd told her, which in turn was because that's what I'd been told. I also told her she was getting out of there, which made her even more happy. We went for a night-time walk across the island, at the other end of which was a squad of Spanish soldiers, who did not survive being attacked by Armand from one end and me from the other. Armand went off with Estrella and I went off with a load of gold.
With that, plus what I'd made from smuggling, plus other odd jobs, I now had enough to buy something a bit bigger and which did not leak. The lugger was renamed "Venus". (There's a song called "Good Ship Venus" and someone must be a fan because almost every nation includes "Venus" in its list of ship names. America and Sweden don't, but they're later additions. Out of the original nations, only Holland is missing out on the fun.) Artois got into trouble when we visited Sao Jorge, which led to a run-in with the governor and ended with me paying him for a Letter of Marque. Well, I now had a ship with guns, so I didn't want to get into trouble for using them. I tried my hand at privateering, which was profitable enough, though merchants are not all that interesting because they don't carry much rum. Yes, we were still on double rum, and always on the lookout for more of it. By now Holland had switched sides - it had become hostile to England, at peace with Spain, and never liked Portugal anyway. And so, while I was on my way out of Charlestown with an English Letter of Marque (another name for an educated man is "man of letters" and now I had two of them), I noticed a couple of Dutch ships having a go at a couple of English ships. Figuring these to be warships, and in possession of more rum than I'd seen in one place for a long time, I joined in. One of them was a big brigantine which was much better armed than my lugger but nowhere near as nippy, so I sailed rings round at it and peppered it with grapeshot until it finally gave up. The other was a barque, still flying a military flag though, possibly a privateer and definitely in possession of rum, so I went after that one as well. The barque I sold; the brigantine I kept, and instead sold the lugger.
And that's how I ended up sailing the brigantine Armeartes, with a right motley crew and some fine-looking officers, drinking our way around the Caribbean. Now there's a ship's name with meaning, if you get my meaning...
The approximate boat couldn't carry much cargo, and anyway neither of us were much good with figuring out trade, so we were never going to make anything through honest trade. That left smuggling. And also odd jobs. Spanish attitudes to England, France and everyone else notwithstanding, we eventually made our way to San Juan, where someone named Vigila Mendes wanted someone else to sail with him to Martinique and back and was willing to pay for the company, so I agreed. He near fell over when he saw my vessel, and so did I, for we'd been on double rum all the way and had no intention of stopping. But a deal's a deal, so we made it to Martinique, where I fell in with a big lad name of Fred Bob who looked like a fine drinking partner. The local guard captain didn't need much persuading to let me take this lad with me, and by way of thanks Fred Bob gave me a letter for which there was supposed to be a reward.
Now the boat's rum supply was supposed to keep us going for months even at our drinking rate, but suddenly my officer was telling me we only had five days' worth. We must have been swigging the stuff a lot more than usual, and that's saying something, for there were still several barrels left.. We pulled into the nearest port, I bought another barrel, after which the officer went back to saying that we had months of rum left.
Back in San Juan, Mendes was happy enough to be back and safe, so he paid up. His former navigator had bought the farm, not figuratively but literally, and some local bandits were helping themselves to his cattle. So we went and gave them a good kicking, and in return the ex-navigator gave me a good spyglass. Now on the lookout for someone looking for a letter, I wandered into church and chatted up a lady who was in there. She turned out to be none other than the wife of the governor and not very happy about it. Estrella, her name was, and she said she'd heard of me and my exploits, which is amazing since the only exploit I could think of was the drinking of 3 months' worth of rum in 5 days. She paid me loads of money for the letter and some more for agreeing to find its writer, a pirate of some renown named Armand Delacroix.
A trip to the pirate town on Nevis resulted in meeting this Armand, and also some lad named Artois. Another rough-looking chap was beating six shades of stuffing out of him, so I beat seven shades of stuffing out of the chap, and in return Artois offered to be my navigator. Meanwhile Armand wanted help in getting his lady friend out of San Juan and off Puerto Rico entirely, and since he was offering a big load of gold, I agreed.
Back in San Juan, Estrella was happy enough to hear that I'd found Armand alive and well, for she feared he was dead, partly because I'd told her, which in turn was because that's what I'd been told. I also told her she was getting out of there, which made her even more happy. We went for a night-time walk across the island, at the other end of which was a squad of Spanish soldiers, who did not survive being attacked by Armand from one end and me from the other. Armand went off with Estrella and I went off with a load of gold.
With that, plus what I'd made from smuggling, plus other odd jobs, I now had enough to buy something a bit bigger and which did not leak. The lugger was renamed "Venus". (There's a song called "Good Ship Venus" and someone must be a fan because almost every nation includes "Venus" in its list of ship names. America and Sweden don't, but they're later additions. Out of the original nations, only Holland is missing out on the fun.) Artois got into trouble when we visited Sao Jorge, which led to a run-in with the governor and ended with me paying him for a Letter of Marque. Well, I now had a ship with guns, so I didn't want to get into trouble for using them. I tried my hand at privateering, which was profitable enough, though merchants are not all that interesting because they don't carry much rum. Yes, we were still on double rum, and always on the lookout for more of it. By now Holland had switched sides - it had become hostile to England, at peace with Spain, and never liked Portugal anyway. And so, while I was on my way out of Charlestown with an English Letter of Marque (another name for an educated man is "man of letters" and now I had two of them), I noticed a couple of Dutch ships having a go at a couple of English ships. Figuring these to be warships, and in possession of more rum than I'd seen in one place for a long time, I joined in. One of them was a big brigantine which was much better armed than my lugger but nowhere near as nippy, so I sailed rings round at it and peppered it with grapeshot until it finally gave up. The other was a barque, still flying a military flag though, possibly a privateer and definitely in possession of rum, so I went after that one as well. The barque I sold; the brigantine I kept, and instead sold the lugger.
And that's how I ended up sailing the brigantine Armeartes, with a right motley crew and some fine-looking officers, drinking our way around the Caribbean. Now there's a ship's name with meaning, if you get my meaning...
We're all well armed and armoured, my crew and me, and I don't plan on keeping this brigantine long for there's a Spanish convoy in sight. Three fat merchants and a fast galleon as an escort. The merchants will fetch a pretty penny but it's that galleon I'm after, for she'll be the one with the rum and anyway I want her as my new flagship.
