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Smith Island

Postby black bart on Fri May 12, 2006 12:00 pm

The Tale of Smith Island

On a long voyage in the Pacific we spied an island in the middle of no where. On closer inspection the coastline of the island was littered with strange statues.

Each statue was virtually identical and represented an enormous fearsome head. We went ashore and found the island to be populated by primitive natives of small stature, who worshipped the stone heads as gods.

At night the natives gathered together around the statues and, after sacrificing a goat and burning a tree they began to chant:
Smith, Smith, Smith...Vote Green, Vote Green...

It turned out the island had been visited by one Captain Smith of England many generations ago. Smith was of such enormous stature compared to the tiny natives that the ancestors had thought Smith must be a god come to visit them on his strange craft from another world. The chief of the natives produced a hallowed artifact from the island's museum of The Great God Smith. It was a tattered leaf of parchment which bore the legend: Vote Green Party.

As I gazed accross the ravaged island I realised the terrible irony of this tale. Not a single tree was left standing, all had been sacrificed to the Smith god and the chief informed me that that had been their last goat!

We left the natives the directions to the nearest McDonalds restaurant, which sadly for them was more than 3,000 miles away, and we sailed away shaking our heads.
The smoke wafted gently in the breeze across the poop deck and all seemed right in the world.
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Postby walktheplank on Thu May 18, 2006 11:36 am

yarr I have come across this Smith character in my travels.

I hear that any visitors to his Island are never seen again on account that he as a huge appetite and will eat anything that moves.

Legend has it that he once ate a huge disgusting pie followed by 20 gristle sandwiches at The Red Cow Inn many moons ago and lived to tell the tale.
The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who in the name of charity and goodwill shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.
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Mary Celeste

Postby black bart on Fri May 19, 2006 9:52 am

YYYAAARRRR I thinks ye may be onto somethin there Walky...

It could explain the disapearance of the crew on 'The Mary Celeste'. If Smith were on board and he got hungry enough he could easily have eaten the entire crew! :?
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Postby walktheplank on Fri May 19, 2006 10:30 am

yarr is eating expolits are legendary. I be hearing that he be the sole survivor of yer famous fish head stew of 96 which wiped out half the population of Portsmouth
The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who in the name of charity and goodwill shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.
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Postby The Black Spot on Thu May 25, 2006 12:29 pm

The Ghostly Treasure

A few years ago, we be sailin round the Cape o' Good Hope, when one o' me officers sed this be where the legendary Cap'n Cronan were last sighted.

The story be that Cronan's ship met with disaster a few weeks after 'ee had buried 'is treasure worth several million pounds. No-one knew where the hidden treasure lay.

Later that evenin'after a few grogs, me first mate said that perhaps we should 'old a seance, an see if we could contact the spirit of Cap'n Cronan.

We all sat round the table in me cabin. We put the letters o' the alphabet in a circle, an put "Ahoy", "Belay", an "Arrr" in there too. Then we turned down the lights an all placed our hooks on the upturned grog tankard in the middle o' the table.

"Be there anyone there?" I sez. The tankard moved to "Arrr".

"Are ye the ghost o' Cap'n Cronan?" I asked. The tankard moved to "Arrr" again.

"Have ye a message fer us?" The tankard moved to "Arrr".

"Cap'n Cronan were never very talkative," said the bosun.

"Cronan!" I shouted. "Will ye tell us where be yer treasure be?"

The tankard moved round the table an spelled out A-Y-E-L-A-N-D

"It be buried on an island!" said me quartermaster.

"No, he means it's in Ireland!" said me first mate.

"No, he means "Aye, it's on land" said the bosun.

"Can ye be a bit more specific, Cronan" sez I.

B-U-R-I-E-D-B-Y-C-L-I-F-F

"Aharr," sez the bosun. "It be at the foot o' a cliff."

"Perhaps 'ee means that someone called Cliff buried it" said me first mate.

"No," sez me quartermaster. "It be buried in a graveyard next to someone called Cliff."

I be startin' to lose me rag by now. "Cronan," I shouted. "Where abouts in the world is it?"

The tankard just spelled a solitary letter: C.

"Arrr, it's an island in the sea," said the bosun. "Which sea?"

"I think the C stands fer Carribean," said the quartermaster.

"Perhaps he means we can see it from here," said me first mate.

I'd had enough by this time. I remembers tellin' Cronan 'ee were lucky that people couldn't be killed twice, an I'd come lookin' fer the bastid when me time came.

Still, I learned a lesson that day. Never have a seance with an illiterate ghost.
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Cornwall

Postby black bart on Fri May 26, 2006 7:44 am

Hold on a minute thar me hearties - I has spotted somethin in this ere Tale o Terror and illirra...illitorr...illittarr, bugger, not bein able to talk proper English. This Capn Cronan...he were 'The Grog Vampyre' in an earlier tale. Could the Cronan Treasure be buried somewhere in Cornwall where his ghost still wanders the land?

Where's me phone I'm giving Derren Brown a ring immediately...
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Postby DaveL on Fri May 26, 2006 8:24 am

The Adventures of Tiddles The Mutineering Cat – Part 1

Long toime ago, Capn DaveL sailed the seven seas in his trusty ship The Arghhh 9000. The Arghhh 9000 was indeed a speedy ship and Capn Dave’s crew used it to run contraband to all parts of the world. Down below in the bilge, the vermin control was left soley in charge of Dave’s trusty cat Tiddles, a burly ginger puss.

Tiddles was indeed finest bilge ratter in all the land. In fact the Bilge Rat Union (The BRU) had placed a black ban of The Arghhh 9000, for fear that too many members were losing their lives to the trusty paws of Tiddles. In the whole of Bilge Rat land, Tiddles was deemed Public Enemy No.1, with posters erected around the ususal Bilge Rat hangouts declaring ‘Beware of Tiddles’.

On board The Arghhh 9000, Tiddles stature had also begun to grow and he was rewarded with additional tasks, gourmet cat food and comfy cushions embroided with his own personal emblem.

Capn Dave so admired Tiddles, that he was subsequently promoted to duties on the upper deck, given his own quarters, with an office, name plaque, cell phone and several cabin boys who fed him saucers of cream.

Tiddles had become a ‘Fatcat’ in more ways than one. In fact he grew very spoilt and had begun to neglect the very thing that made him so famous. His Bilge Rattin’ skills. He grew plump and lazy, and developed a penchant for snorting dried cat biscuits up his nostrils…YArrr!!!

On a subsequent trip from Malta, Tiddles missed several Bilge Rats in the hold, who managed to devour a large supply of cheese headed for the Spanish court. In his angst, Capn DaveL stripped Tiddles of all his privileges and sent him to dwell once again in the darkness of the Bilge.

Alone in the darkness, Tiddles began to brood, resentin’ his punishment...Yowl!!!
Alone in the darkness, Tiddles did hiss at the very thought of his master...Hisssss!!!
Alone in the darkness Tiddles had turned from the light – like Annakin Skywalker, with creepy red eyes...Rowwwwwww!!!

Tiddles had grown EVIL!!!
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Parrot Luck

Postby black bart on Fri May 26, 2006 9:34 am

The Tale of...'The Parrot's Foot'.

I used to wear a parrots foot as a lucky charm and for many years it hung around my neck on a silver chain. One stormy night many years ago, when I were a lowly ships cook’s assistant’s assistant, I took a stroll on deck to get some clean air arter bein in the galley makin Fish Stew all day.

I sees one of the crew bent over the side chunderin like a parrot. YYAARR says I we’re havin a bit of a Sow westerly tonight…
’nothing …blurgh…to do…blurgh…with the…bluuuurgh…weather,’says he, ‘it’s that darned Fish stew…bluuuuuuuuuurgh!’

Suddenly the ship lurched violently to starboard and we were both thrown over board. The ship had been struck by an enormous Squid whose tentacles had wrapped themselves around the Focsle. Splutterin and gaspin for breath we looked up to see the monster grapple the ship and in a terrifyin spectacle, both ship and squid disappeared beneath the waves.

Doomed to a watery grave we were tossed around in the sea and our lives flashed before our eyes. I saw glimpses of my lovely Pir-gella with ne’r a hope to see her agin. The other chap saw a flash back of a big bowl of Fish Head Stew – he choked and sank beneath the briny.

So there I was…the only survivor, but for how long. Suddenly a great bubbling and gurgling came up from the depths and my first thought was that the poor buggers, stomachs filled with fish stew, had let off one final under water fart. My second thought was that the Giant Squid was coming back to claim the last survivor. But imagine my joy when up bobbed an enormous wooden chest. I clung on to the chest until the storm abated and eventually floated to safety on the coast of Java.

When I got ashore I opened up the chest and found it contained the captain’s treasure – I was alive and I was rich. I suddenly remembered the parrot’s foot – it still hung around my neck and I vowed to keep it there always. It didn’t bring the parrot much luck though! :fsm_yarr:
The smoke wafted gently in the breeze across the poop deck and all seemed right in the world.
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Postby DaveL on Sat May 27, 2006 12:27 am

The Adventures of Tiddles The Mutineering Cat – Part 2

Thus it came to pass that Tiddles, the great Bilge Rattin’ Ginger Puss did become Evil. Yet despite his twisted demeanour, Tiddles once again became a great slayer of vermin. However, he did disappear below deck, never to be seen. The only trace of Tiddles was the pile of rat bones he left behind. But no-one spotted him for months!

In Bilge Rat land, word of Tiddles great darkness had spread and a plot was hatched to tempt Tiddles to their cause. Devoid of leadership at the paws of ‘The Great Puss’, the Bilge Rats plotted to make Tiddles their new leader. But how? Tiddles even in his darkness would never consider such a proposal – even if it did involve restoration of his creature comforts. Then Bugsy Bilge Rat 'hit the nail on the head'. ‘Tiddles has not seen the light of day for months. He is a very lonely ole Tomcat’ said Bugsy. ‘How about we tempt him with a beautiful lady-friend?' said Shifty Bilge Rat. ‘Great idea' said Knuckles Bilge Rat…’leave the arrangements to me.' Thus following many rat high-fives all round, a plot was hatched.

Several days later, Tiddles evil growl in the darkness was matched by another more feminine ‘Meeeeeoooow’. Tiddles being Evil, responded by rotating his head 360 degrees and vomiting. From the faint light permeatin’ below deck stepped forward a beautiful Siamese Cat named ‘Meow See-Tung’. Tiddles head stopped rotating at once, and so did his heart which stopped beating instantly. But before Tiddles could approach her, she vanished never to be found.

Tiddles was indeed haunted by the ghostly vision of Meow See-Tung and his appetite for destroyin Bilge Rats had subsided. Then one night, Bugsy, Shifty, Lefty and Knuckles approached Tiddles as he slept. ‘Tiddles, our great nemesis. Why do you sleep in the bilge, when you can sleep in a luxury fortress with ‘Meow-See Tung’ by your side’ said Lefty. ‘Do you not wish to join our cause?’ Tiddles conscience was a maelstrom, but the thoughts of a luxurious life on dry land were too much to bear. In the end Tiddles relented. Then, with a crack of thunder and lightning... Tiddles had been tempted by the Dark Side!!
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litter

Postby black bart on Tue May 30, 2006 8:26 pm

I see a dark future for Tiddles...the Sith cat Litter awaits unless he can be diverted from the Dark Side. My clonin facility on the Isle of Wyte has recieved a large order!
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CATastrophe

Postby black bart on Thu Jun 01, 2006 7:37 am

YYYAAAARRRRR twas as I feared...Tiddles as cloned himself an army...this could mean CATastrophe for Piracy as we know it:

Image
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Postby DaveL on Thu Jun 01, 2006 7:48 am

YArrrrr...

That's freakin hilarious! That be a good prelude to the next installement. O'is better get crackin'.
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Catfish

Postby black bart on Fri Jun 02, 2006 9:57 am

Thar we were four hours out from Port o Spain, Trinidad when me Lookout spots a sail on t'horizon...

'Sail on t'horizon Capn' cries he...

'Be there a ship attached to it?' cries I.

As we approached the vessel we heared a terrible Catawaulin and mewin comin from her decks. Blow me if the ship weren't bein manned by Cats dressed as Pirates!

Me parrot flew up to the Crows nest in terror and the crew drew back in awe. Several cats began loadin up their cannon ready to do battle. 'Blast it Capn' sais the First Mate, 'she be a big ship and we be out gunned I fear'. 'Avast' sais I, 'Fear not me hearties, run out the Insultomatic Ghettoblaster...

We fired off a tirade of the worst Pirate Insults ever heard at the enemy craft - enough to chill the heart of any man...

Aye, any MAN... but these were moggies...terrible heartless beasts and we were nowt but their mousey playthings! Things would have turned out badly if I hadn't had a sudden stroke o genius...

'Quick lads' sais I, 'Fire over a barrel o Fish Head Stew on the double and make it Heavy on the Fish Heads. The barrel of stew landed in the middle of the gun deck and burst, sendin rancid Fish Heads everywhere!

The effect on the pussycat crew was galvanisin - the cats immediately began scrappin and scratchin over the smelly fish and while they were distracted...

We blasted the beggars to kingdom come!

ps. Some people believe that some of the cats survived and being forced to swim to land they developed fins...this being the origin of 'Catfish'. These people have probably been drinking too much...but I swear this be a true story.
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Postby The Black Spot on Fri Jun 02, 2006 12:13 pm

Captain Cronan and the Green Pirate

Years ago, when I were still a deck hand, I were in a tavern in Portsmouth enjoyin' a quiet grog or two wi' the lads.

The booze-up were in full swing, when the doors o' the tavern burst open and in swaggered the terrible figure o' the Green Pirate. He looked around the bar, and issued a challenge to everyone there:

"See this here cutlass," he said. "This be the biggest, sharpest cutlass any o' ye will e'er see." He hefted it in the air - we's could all see that it were a formidable weapon.

"If any man here wants to swing this cutlass at me, then they can," said the Green Pirate. "But the condition be, that I come back 'ere in exactly one year an a day's time, an then I has my swipe".

He looked around the room. "Any o' ye swabs want to accept me challenge?" he bellowed.

We all looked at each other. No one seemed t' want to take up the challenge.

"'Tis true," shouted the Green Pirate. "Ye all be lily livered sons o' jackels! Especially yer Cap'n!"

Now, Cap'n Cronan weren't a man to be insulted. 'Ee strode across the room, an took the cutlass from the Green Pirate. Then, he took a huge swing an' sliced off the Green Pirate's head.

The tavern fell silent as the Green Pirate took a few steps an' picked up 'is head. "Arrr," said the head. "Not bad, Cap'n. But ye be here in a year an a day, an then it be my turn."

With that, the Green Pirate walked out the tavern.

There was uproar! We all asked the Cap'n what he was goin to do. Was 'ee goin to flee the country an hope that 'ee were never found, or would 'ee return to fulfill the bet?

Cap'n Cronan remained calm. "We'll no see 'im again," he said. "When 'ee weren't lookin, I shoved a couple o' fishheads from the stew down 'is windpipe. When 'ee puts 'is head back on, it be curtains fer 'im."

We all toasted Cap'n Cronan, an applauded 'im fer being such a marvellous Captain.

Later that evenin' he sank yet another one o' his ships an drowned 'alf the crew.
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Postby walktheplank on Fri Jun 02, 2006 7:20 pm

aye this Cap'n Cronan he be a man of great feats. Yet are they tales of daring deeds or are they legend based on a mystical character no one has seen.

I be keeping my eye out to see if this Cap'n Cronan really exists. Legend has it that he be half English and half French and he can out drink evry Pirate Cap'n to sail the seven seas.
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