Pirate Story


Trap yer boots and collect yer heels ladies, fer i shall tell ye a tale. Lay down the grog too fer 'tis not another bloody novel about a deep sea myth or witchcrafting mishmash. 'Dis time 'tis about old humble me and two of my mates, Gentelman Starkey and Pete Girly, when we wer helping the lord mayor of Port Cologne te organise her tidings with the volunteerings of Mr Ransack. As the mother licking, blood sucking whore she is, the port coyed into our hands again in the same manner of her first virgin night we visited her. Bored with the nightly leet and bagged booty, me and my mates decided ter take the sir mayor for a nightly walk over te the waterside villa.

Built up high over the cliff, overlooking all over down the rocky bay, with actual trees and roots coming out of the cliff underneath it, te house was a sight te beheld. Sir mayor, fer a good christian he is, found it pretty a good dice that he could be meetin' the end of his very life on the way up, so we adviced him on about carrying a pile of pickaxe and a shovel fer a man must pull his own weight and dig up 'is own marking grave when he feels the death is coming onto him, said Pete Girly. And a further up, we knocked the door of the household.

Naw bite me if any of yer ever met a ciching snuffle nosed richer that cares about what goes on and out about the world that we live in. But blimey men, the butler nor the lady at the door had any idea about the town downside being burned into ash. We were invited fer dinner.

The houselord was a man of crystal education and an interesting feller fer that one. He had big thoughts about the "mysteries of the mind and the dark corridors of the conshiusnes". All we had in our minds were the corridors of his wifes backside, and bite me again if she didder not figure it out before we passed next to the study room har har!

Riddle fer a boon, he says, fer yer eyes have the glit of men with a jewelers apetite. I will tell you lot a problem that needs solvin', and if ye can bear with it, blimey have my wife. If yer not the type, we can let this go before we start, but if we give the starters and yer not on the good side of it, i be throwin' ye down the cliff, he said.

Naw cant blame a rubber-leg fer not having had the ack-youentice of Girly Pete and neither blame them fer not figuring' it out that he has more in his eyes then a mere glit fer treasure. With no haste we agreed.

The houselord sat in front of the fire and started telling us the riddle.

Long ago, there was a king who had six sons. The king treasured an amount of gold, which he hid it carefully on a number of islands that were in a lake. On each island there were a number of chests; -and his wife added - this number of chests was equal to the number of islands in the lake. Aye said the houselord, each chest contained a number of golden coins that equaled to the number of chests per island. When the king died, one chest was given to the royal butler. The rest of the treasure had to be divided fairly between his six sons.

Now tell me gentelmen, he said, is it possible to divide this treasure between the sons in a fair meaning?

Naw the sun was almost dawning when we wer leavin the bloody house fer good, with the woman strapped and tied on hands and eyes, carried on the shoulder of Gentelman Starkey. Girly Pete unsatisfied with the booty, we robbed the woman of her jewels and clothing, left her to play with the dozers and blank eyes of the nights pillage. Pete made it sure that the cargo hold was full and the warehouse was empty and we wer ready te sail, unless i solved the mystery about how Pete solved the houselords evil riddle.

Easy my man, he said. The mans wife had been eyeing you for the whole time. Im quiet sure as soon as she heard the riddle about the islands, she figured out that we could have been pirates or sailors of any sort. Her teenage spirit yondered once again and let a out a simple tip, maybe unwillingly. She is coming from a certain line of noble traditions you see, in which are not allowed to marry other than of their grandparents choosing, and must mark this occassion by a tatoo on a hidden spot of their skin. Hers was an anchor with waves and sailropes, painted on the side of her chest. Now her husband clearly a man of no sea blood in him, its possible that she dreamt about seas and adventure more than once.

But, i asked the captain, what was the tip she gave me?

Ah, if i dont remember wrong, she said "this number of chests was equal to the number of islands in the lake." the *was* was the key. So i said to the houselord, aye, it is possible fer the sons to get ahold a fair share, if there be only one island in the lake, and there be only one chest on the island, and only one piece of coin in the chest, which was given to the royal and loyal butler. So the sons of the king all get nothing, which is also a fair share.

Aye captn, yer always have the smarts on ye, i says, but why not take the old maid as yer bride? She could do a bit of swooping on the deck eh?

He said, we will see my good man, we will see.