Chapter Three

Lobster, flags and tits that won’t quit

The day was like no other. Blue skies, warm, yet not too humid and the sea was calm with just enough breeze for smooth sailin’.

We stood there, we three, Red Morty Flint, Black Billy Cash and Capt’n Mad Dave Rackham and we admired ourselves and our ship.

The ‘Bloody Anne” had grown, as had we, into a proper vessel for pirates. We had learned to strap down any and everything we needed for our forays out in the deep blue. We had also, at Billy’s insistence, rigged a pulley onto our mast for raising the many flags we now had on board. Billy was adamant about some historical points of sailing, he was, after all, a teacher on the mainland.

“The ships did not fly their colors all the time.” It was night and we sat in the captain chairs at the bar at Rockafellers drinking Coronas and playing with the lobster we won in the Claw game at the front of the restaurant. It was one of those “three fingered games usually filled with stuffed animals and such, arranged in a way that rendered them impossible to catch. Rockafeller’s had invented a new twist…for a mere two dollars American you could lower the claw into the aquarium and try to catch a live lobster! If you caught one you brought it to the bar and they would cook your lobster dinner for free. Billy’s wife Bloody Anne, for which our ship was named, was a real terror at the game. Her insane love of the taste of buttered lobster flesh honed her concentration to a keen super human level that allowed her to dine on two dollar lobster at will. We however, were not as skilled and so, after spending sixteen dollars on our ‘free’ lobster, we sat at the bar watching ‘Pinchey” wander about on the bar and make the touron patrons a little uneasy.

“You see,” said Billy getting back to his lecture, Ships would sail many waters. When another ship was sighted they would fly the colors of that area….like Spain, or France or England. When they became within hailing distance they would call out to each other the Captains names, the name of the ship and the destination. If there was any need for further proof or trade then an emissary would come across on a dingy and supply the needed information or trading of supplies.”
“So the Jolly Roger was only raised after tricking the first ship to get in close!” said Capt’n Dave. “I see…” said Morty, and each pirate had his own flag as well.” “Right” Said Billy, “and that is why I made THIS!” and with a flourish he pulled from under his shirt THE FLAG.

“Now we sail proper.” Said Morty.
I relate this information with a purpose to be shown later. The flags and history became ingrained in our quest the next day. For those that choose to ignore history are doomed to repeat it.

And so it was that we sailed out towards Bird Island fully stocked, half crocked and carrying many flags.

As we sailed up the coast we passed many-a-day sailors. We chose not to engage them, saving our strength and reserve for bigger prey ‘cept one: a young couple probably in their early twenty’s, were out on a rental cat. We were about to sail past them when we all noticed the form of the girl. Sitting on the tarp of the cat, leaning back on her arms she looked just like the silhouette of the girl on trucker mud flaps.

This was impressive enough yet it was the obviously store bought and impressive size of the young ladies bosom that gave us heed.

“That be a “working” pair there lads.” Said Morty. “Aye, She be dancing on the pole in some ‘gentlemen’s club fer sure.” Said Capt’n Dave.
“Ahoy Mate!” called out Billy. “Are ye not aware of the “LAW?”
“Huh? What law?” replied the clean cut boy.
“The law of the SEA, lad!” shouted Billy. “Once yer out this far, all maidens are required to remove their tops. Everyone knows that!”( This is an unwritten, but true law of the sea.)
“He’s right you know!”called out Dave.
“Really?” asked the lass. “Oh HELL yes.” said a wide eyed Morty.
“Now just a minute….” Stammered her dashing date, but it was too late.
Laughing and shimmying, the young lass snapped off her bikini top and began waving it about her head like a flag.
We all politely applauded and Morty went as far as to actually stand up on the tarp with one hand on the mast and with a formal bow he tipped his imaginary hat as the young lady squeezed her already heaving bosom between her arms and blew him a kiss.
We sailed away to the sweet sounds of the girls laughter as her date was cursing us and shaking his fist.

“Poor dumb bastard doesn’t even realize we did him a favor.” Mused Morty as he waved at the ever shrinking boat. “Sit down before you capsize us you dolt!” shouted Dave. Still, before he got down, Morty chanced a glance in the direction of Bird Island.

“Land Ho!” he called out. “and ships galore!” We all trained our eyes towards the approaching shore and saw the many pontoons and other sailing ships we had dreamed of.
“This is actually making me aroused.” Growled Capt’n Dave.
“Hey! None of that!” shouted Billy. He remembered the words of Bloody Anne on the eve of their departure: “NO swabbin’ the poop deck!” she had said, and Billy knew to take heed.