it said. It is true, thought Blue Peter, but I felt that if I had, then I couldn’t be sure if he’d burst out crying, shoot me, or curse me with the evil eye.
The old plough-horse plodded on down the path to Porte de Recailles, with a thoughtful Blue Peter Ceteshwayoo riding bareback upon it.
Two of the smart-alecky voices that might be heard from the back of any assembly of the crew of the Ark de Triomphe were conversing companionably, sitting on the cross-trees of the frigate’s mainmast, high above the deck. Jemmy Ducks, keeper of the ship’s ducks, chickens, pigs and goat, and Jack Nastyface, cook’s assistant, both holding honorary job-titles in lieu of their real names, were skiving-off, and their idle discussion had been following the same path as Blue Peter’s thoughts; what was the Captain doing with the loot?
“Ay-yoop! ‘Tis the Blue Boy!” said Jemmy Ducks, “on his trusty charger.”
“Where away, cuz? Where is the dark knight on his Arabian steed?” said Jack Nastyface, whose eyesight was poor.
“End o’ quay. Just come round corner o’ timberyard,” said Jemmy Ducks, slithering from his perch onto the ratlines. The pair climbed down, warning the other foremast jacks of the Master Gunner’s approach and bickering, Jemmy Ducks averring that Jack Nastyface’s myopia was the result of onanistic practices, Jack Nastyface replying that he did indeed practice onanism but only once a day and only to spill his seed into Jemmy Duck’s morning porridge.
Captain Sylvestre de Greybagges, sitting at his desk in the Great Cabin in the midst of a chaos of account-books and ledgers, heard the two still bickering as they went down the companionway, and heard his servant Mumblin’ Jake mumble at them to shut up and not disturb the cap’n, look’ee. Blue Peter will be here presently, he thought, knowing that the livestock-keeper and the cook’s assistant would not otherwise have ended their mid-morning smoke and yarn. He called to Mumblin’ Jake to make fresh coffee.
Blue Peter knocked and entered the Great Cabin, followed by Mumblin’ Jake with a tray bearing a steaming tin coffee-pot, mugs and a plate of biscuits. Jake set out the mugs and poured the coffee, placed the plate on the edge of the desk, and mumbled off to his lair in the Captain’s pantry. Blue Peter sat down opposite Captain Greybagges, who smiled a grim smile at him in welcome, his grey eyes far-away.
“Let me finish with these damn’ books, curse ‘em. I’ll be a whore’s half-hour, no more. Here, read this while I figure.” The Captain handed him a printed broadsheet, folded in the fashion of the stock-jobbers in crowded London coffee-houses to show only the article of interest. Blue Peter unfolded it to find the broadsheet’s name; the Tortuga Times. He refolded the broadsheet, and glanced at the Captain, who was in his shirtsleeves, checking entries in the ledgers, clicking an abacus and writing, scritch-scratch, with a quill, his face impassive.
Blue Peter turned his attention back to the newspaper. The article was a poem. Blue Peter read it through with mounting amusement, having to choke back guffaws of laughter as it was so bad. He looked at the Captain, but the Captain’s eyes were on the account-books, and his pen went scritch-scratch. Blue Peter could bear no more; he snapped the folded broadsheet to flatten it, cleared his throat and, in his deep voice, with an artful theatricality, read the poem out loud...
“CAPTAIN GREYBAGGES ALIAS ‘GREEN BEARD’
by Mungo McGonagall.
Sylvestre de Greybagges came from Recailles, and sailed from that port
On board the good ship Ark de Triomphe, in search of sport, As Captain, long had he held that station, And for personal courage he had gained his crew’s approbation.
‘Twas in the spring, Captain Sylvestre de Greybagges sailed to Providence
In the continent of America, and no further hence;
And in their way captured a vessel laden with flour,
Which they put on board their own vessel in the space of an hour.
They also seized two other vessels and took some gallons of wine,
Besides plunder to a considerable value, and most of it most costly of design;
And after that they made a prize of a large French Guinea-man,
Then to act an independent part Captain Greybagges now began.
But the news spread throughout America, far and near,
And filled many of the inhabitants’ hearts with fear;
But Lord Mondegreen with his sloops of war directly steered,
And left James River on the 17th November in quest of Green Beard,
And on the evening of the 21st came in sight of the pirate;
And when His Lordship spied Green Beard he felt himself elate.
When Green Beard saw the sloops sent to apprehend him,
He didn’t lose his courage, but fiendishly did grin;
And told his men to cease from drinking and their tittle-tattle,
To see to their dags and cutlasses and prepare for a battle.
In case anything should happen to him during the engagement,
One of his men asked him, who felt rather discontent,
Whether anybody knew where he had buried his pelf,
When he impiously replied that nobody knew but the devil and himself.
In the morning Lord Mondegreen weighed and sent his boat to sound,
Which, coming near the pirate, unfortunately ran aground;
But Mondegreen lightened his vessel of the ballast and water,
Whilst from the pirates’ ship small shot loudly did clatter.
But the pirates’ small shot or slugs didn’t Mondegreen appal,
He told his men to take their swords and be ready upon his call;
And to conceal themselves every man below,
While he would remain alone at the helm and face the foe.
Then Green Beard cried, ‘They’re all knocked on the head,’
When he saw no hand upon deck he thought they were dead;
Then Green Beard boarded Mondegreen ‘s sloop without dismay,
But Mondegreen ‘s men rushed upon deck, then began the deadly fray.
Then Green Beard and Lord Mondegreen engaged sword in hand,
And His Lordship fought manfully and made a bold stand;
And Green Beard’s cutlass clanged against the sword of Mondegreen, Making the most desperate and bloody conflict that ever was seen.
At last with shots and wounds Mondegreen fell down in a swoon,
And his men thus dismayed laid down their pistols and spontoons,
Green Beard laughed grimly and marooned them all ashore,
And went back to Recailles to fritter his loot on rum and whores.
Green Beard derived his name from his long green beard,
Which terrified America more than any comet that had ever appeared;
But wicked pirates thank the Devil that in this age all be a’feared,
Of the mighty buccaneer who possesses the eldritch Green Beard!”
Blue Peter Ceteshwayoo, with magnificent fortitude, managed to read to the end of the poem, but then could no longer keep control. He laughed until his eyes ran tears and his ribs hurt, slapping the folded broadsheet on his thigh, wheezing and whooping trying to catch a breath. Captain Greybagges had sat back in his captain’s chair and was watching Blue Peter with a smile. As he watched the grimness slowly departed from his face and the smile grew wider, until he too was laughing, a great booming laugh.