Monday, March 26, 2012
Captain Frances, Chapter 2.
Captain Frances and Pete woke and found on the not far distance a jet of land of which the Captain knew. Having rigged from torn and frayed canvas a make shift sail they reached land fall by mid day.
Pete, before their arrival, took flight and brought back bananas.
Water was the thing of which she needed most and had it not been for the rains of an ocean squall to quenched her thirst and give her some substance she would have surly perished.
Once reaching land the Captain with Pete made their way along the coast to a town in the bay. She took from her satchel, tucked into her belt, some bouillon to barter. With careful scrutiny she surveyed all and only then went into a tavern and Inn with assurance of not being known.
Pete on her shoulder kept vigil watch as well. With any suspicious character, setting his claw to the Captain’s shoulder. The two had become a pair.
With room and board the Captain restored her health and made now plans to regain her rightful reign. With this in mind, she purchases a Ketch and departed to Nicor and the stored bounty of which she had made provisions for, in just such an event as this.
Back now to the bay, she made arrangements to purchase a galleon of like design which had been her demise with a few additional modifications. In stead of canon balls she would use compact metal fragments. It would remove the varmints with little damage to the ship. Thus was born shrap metal. She ordered a union jack to be made. All part of the plan. Uniforms to be worn by her crew. All part of the plan.
She assembled a crew. It would make due. She had to get to the Ivory Coast. And that she knew.
Once on the Ivory Coast she recruited a regiment of highly skilled Spaniards which were already baited for all. A dislike for the English, True spirited and with a romance for the seas, here was her needs with a pledge of loyalty on their knees.
The day arrived. The Sea blew fresh. All stores and munitions aboard. She walked back and forth before this pledged loyalty. Yes! Like a royalty. Pete on her shoulder she showed only her calm. And in a voice just audiable “Set sail’, she said, and that was all.
The magic of those days before, were now put to rest, except for the one big show of which the English would learn the test! Captain Frances the Notorious, Ferocious, Dreadful, Awful was now know as only Captain Frances. Except to her foes. Her foes where every self serving, self righteous, self indulging, repressive slim of all, well, let’s be nice - cockiepop.
Three English galleons of brilliant red white and blue, where now to be hers. The very ones who had ganged up on her. It was her rightful due.
And upon the set sail of a southeasterly wind, from the top mast look-out one day her man did shout: “Thar is that English Devil my Captain”, pointing, as all on deck looked up and then out. There on the horizon was the flag ship that had destroyed her unfairly – three ships to one.
“Set the English flag, my lads.” Cried loudly the Captain. “Change into your English garb. Look alive! Be alive! For that there carrion is our bounty one third.”
“Aye Aye”, returned the crew in unison. “Aye, Aye Captain Frances, we know exactly what to do.”