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This here be a true tale, to be sure, or the Devil’s my uncle and me left leg be a marlinspike! This be the tale of a dark and stormy night aboard the Savage Raider. Now, it didn’t start as such an inhospitable night; no—it were a fine day to begin with. But that very morning, the sun rose red as blood in the sky, and laughing off the olde mariners’ rhyme,

“Red skies at night, sailor’s delight
Red skies at morning, sailors take warning!”

I put to sea anyways. I mean, thick with rum (and too darned sure of m’self) I laughed at the childishness of such poetry. So, with me trusty Krewe, we loaded our provisions or water; rum; apples; rum; potatoes; a bit of fresh meat; rum; salted pork and beef; rum; powdered soup (don’t laugh—it staves off the scurvy!); rum; powder, balls, wadding, matches, and flints; and RUM. Did I mention that me First Mate Combat Lizzy was in charge of provisioning?

But I digress. T’were a full Krewe pillaging’ party we were on, the likes of which the Caribbean had never seen before and were twice as likely to never be seein’ again. The Raider’s main cabin had been refitted to be a meetin’ room of sorts. This were the olde Captain’s cabin and bunk, but when I seized the Raider I took a berth closer to the charts and logs. A captain don’t need comfort at sea—he needs to be in control. And this day, I were not to stay that way.

Our plan was to put forth from our den on Padres Del Fuego and beat a path towards the Dry Tortugas, takin’ every Spanish treasure galleon along the way. They were said to be ridin’ low in the water and me grand idear were to sneak up behind the Spanish treasure fleet and take them one at a time, from the rear of the column all the way to the front. It might a took us until we reached Spain proper to appropriate every ship, but it were a task to the Krewe’s liking, to be sure. So many ships for the taking, with a Krewe mate a Captain of each ship seized until all Spain saw were her mighty treasure fleet naught but a file of pyrate ships meandering back towards the Spanish Main!

At least, those were my plans. But the first night out changed all those grandiose schemes for the worse. Ye see, I should have taken warning from that olde rhyme. For our first night out, Charlotte were on watch. Me Inner Circle were in the meetin’ room, having one of our three days of fresh meat and vegetables before the dry food would have to be coming out. Oh, and then there was the rum! Lizzy never pulled watch because there wouldn’t be much watching going on anyways. She’d spend her shift on deck regailing the newer pyrates with tales of wonder that seemed to grow more wondrous with more consumption of rum. So, instead we keeps her below decks where she can keep the Inner Circle warm with rum—and song if the mood strikes.

But this night was not a night like the others. No, this night the Raider be a pitchin’ and a rollin’. I had to have most of the lanterns put out for fear of oil spillin from them, or even of one fallin’ and shatterin’ and speadin fire in the tempest. So, the Inner Circle (minus Charlotte, of course, still stickin’ to duty and mannin’ her watch) met in a more serious mode this night to discuss a potential change of plans.

As we jacked and jawed about whether to keep beatin’ to windward, or whether it would be best to take a runnin’ course with the following seas awashin’ over the transom, suddenly one of me newer officers, a Juliana Fireheart comes a bustin’ into the board room with news that the Raider were takin’ on water. It seemed that there were a weak spot—perhaps a bit of a soft or even rotten spot in the hull what had finally given way under the poundin’ of the sea.

“Well, lass!” I bellowed, “Yer an Officer of the Krewe—get a team together and start bailin’ the bilge! Get an olde mattress and some timbers from a galley table and shore it up!” Off she went, but lookin’ a bit the more pale for it. Sometimes they take to piratin’ a bit too young, but this one had a keen head on her shoulders and were smart as paint.

So now the Inner Circle starts readressin’ our newest state of affairs. Char still resolutely kept watch up on deck, while Lizzy continued to push the rum (as if THAT would help me decision makin’ abilities!). Li Wildtimbers suggested that we patch the leaky hold and continue on our way. Her sister Redfury thought better of it and suggested we make port at the closest landfall. Samule Sworddogger thought that perhaps the pup officer didn’t know bilgewater from a leak and suggested that there might be no problem at all. Molly Bluesilver thought that Sam was full of rum and probably needed to go on deck and check the rigging! Benjamin Dreadgull volunteered to go check on Juliana and assess the situation. I agreed that were probably the best course of action and sent him on his way.

So, with the Raider rockin’ and swayin’, and two of my Inner Circle out of the Board Room, we did what any self respecting pyrates would do under such circumstances—we drank and sang! However, the festivities did not last long as Ben came bustin’ through the door announcin’, “Cap’n Bart, sir—I do believe we’re sinking!”

I jumped up and ran (staggered?) after Ben with the entire Inner Circle (minus our resolute Charlotte who were still manning the watch) trailing behind. Soon enough we gets to where Jules is standing knee deep in water belowdecks—and we’re not too far below neither! This were no bilge water; this be a full on leak—the kind of leak that the work “LEAK” really doesn’t pay tribute to. So, we all headed on back to the Board Room to discuss the gravity of the situation.

Upon returning to the Board Room, we see Charlotte, no longer at her watch, and catching up in her cups. “Captain Bart, the ship is sinking, I fear” she says. “During my watch I noticed her laying lower and lower in the water. At first I figured it were the mountainous swells, but the truth be, the swells have grown no bigger over the past two bells, but there’s more and more water washing over the gun’ls.”

“Mates,” says I, “We’re in a bind. We’re a day out of Padres and caught in a storm. We’re sinkin’ sure, as attested by Jules, Ben, and now Char. The couple of dinghys we have won’t carry all and wouldn’t survive the storm anyway. Now, I’m not a particularly religious man, but it seems that this would be the time if ever there was one for some words be spake to The Almighty. Anybody know anything about preachin’ ways?”

For a short while nobody spoke, but then Li piped up. “I’ve never spent much time inside a church, to be blunt” she said. “But I do admit that when I were a wee lass growing up that I lived next door to a church in Bristol. And although I never set foot inside, I did hear the words from inside comin’ outside once a week, on Saturdays, after the sun had gone down. I’d be willing to give it a shot and try to repeat the words I heard.”

“Well lass, get to it!” said I. And with a chorus of Krewe officers encouragin’ her, she raised her hands to get us to quiet and then cleared her throat. Piously, knowin’ it were our only hope, we fell reverently to our knees.

“B-17!” she called out. And then again, “B-17!”

“E-4!” And then once again, “E-4!”

The gravity of the situation could not drown out our LAUGHTER! Even the winds outside were shamed by the cacophony of guffaws from the stern cabin as we all at the same time realized that our dear Li were calling out BINGO numbers!

Lizzy sat us down again at the table and suggested the only way to go with grace and dignity were to be drunk as fools and singin’ shanties all the way to old Nick’s armchair! So we set about again to our drinkin’, and toastin’ each other for the fine gentlemen and ladies of fortune what we had become to believe we were. All of us but Molly, that is. Molly got a strange look in her eyes and headed back out on deck. The Inner Circle didn’t care. However the lass wanted to meet her maker was her right. And yet, in just a couple of moments, she came back inside, excited like I had never seen her before.

“A ship!” she cried out. “There’s a ship coming!”

We all clambored back outside and up to the poop deck. Sure enough, a ship were comin’! “Quickly, mates!” I yelled, “grab a lantern and get it lit! She needs to see us! Wave it high over yer heads!” Red and Sam ran below decks and brought the rest of the Krewe up on deck, with lanterns, candles—even the matches for the cannons lit. Some had made torches of their shirts dipped in oil and legs of tables and chairs. The whole deck seemed as if it were the kitchen of Old Scratch. But the gambit worked. Soon the ship were headin’ in our direction.

Saved we were. And as the trader drew near all the whoopin’ and hollerin’ all ceased at once. For there, printed plainly as day upon the freeboards was our Guardian Angel’s name, lit up in the firelight for all to see.

Ye see mates, the Krewe of the doomed Savage Raider were saved that night by a Trading Schooner by the name of

BINGO