Aye, we could tell a ships of war by the three poop-lanterns. There were also deck-lanterns, fighting-lanterns , magazine-lanterns, etc.

We knew to douse our poop-lantern and scamper away into the night when we saw a man-o-war approaching.

The principal parts are:

1^st. The breech, together with the cascable and its button, called by seamen the pomelion. The breech in of solid metal, from the bottom of the concave cylinder or chamber to the cascable.

2^nd. The trunnions, which project on each side, and serve to support the cannon, hold it almost in equilibrio.

3^rd. The bore or caliber, is the interior of the cylinder, wherein the powder and shot are lodged when the cannon is loaded.  The entrance of the bore is called the mouth or muzzle. It may be generally tapering, with the various modifications of first and second reinforce and swell, to the muzzle or forward end.

Aye, she be a beauty.

To make a sail ye’ll want to be seaming the clothes together; cutting the gores; tabling and sewing on the reef, belly, lining, and buntline bands, roping and marling on the clues and foot-rope. Do these actions and ye’ll be ready to mount the sail.

Aye ye will.

But you’d be in error. By English maritime law, freight became the mother of wages, as the crew were obliged to moor the ship on her return in the docks or forfeit them.

So severely was the axiom maintained, that if a ship was lost by misfortune, tempest, enemy, or fire, wages also were forfeited, because the freight out of which they were to arise had perished with it.

Are you not glad that law was done away with. But come to think of pirates never paid any attention to law anyway. So have done with it.

I expected the worst but was delighted when the gorgeous creature slowed to an idle state and spoke to me. I was so surprised that a stingray could talk that I had to ask her to repeat what she had said. She rolled her eyes, came closer and whispered, “Follow me… there’s a sunken ship near by.”

I brought my courage into line and followed the graceful ray. Sure enough, not more than 50 stokes away there was a sunken sloop resting on a ridge. Inside, sealed in waterproof barrels, were dozens of leather bound books written by the ancient masters. It was indeed a great find.

I thanked the ray, who grinned, blew a stream of bubbles, then gracefully flapped away. By then I was almost out of air. I quickly surfaced, caught my breath and directed a pirate crew to retrieve the sunken treasure.

We’ll sail to the nearest port and find receptive young ones and give the books away. Glad I didn’t run into Davy Jones.

To satiate me curiosity I boarded the vessel via the aft lanyard to investigate. Other than a few barrels o’ hardtack, sacks o’ grain, a store o’ cannon balls and gun powder she was deserted. I later learned that, sure enough, the authorities had spotted the ship’s red flag and after a brief battle at sea captured her and brought her into port. Now, the unruly crew sits in the local prison awaiting transport to Port Royal were they will surely be tried and hanged.

Me crew and I offered to furnish them with books to make their stay in prison productive. The local magistrate asked why we would bother. I told him that with pirates you never know and if they should escape doing some powerful reading might set them on a different path. “Aye!” says he, “reading is wholesome and can be redemptive. Bring on your plunder.” Aye, we did and have hopes that books will do their magic.

We stood for a turn of the hour glass enjoying the surrounding beauty o’ the otherworldly terrain. Ship’s quartermaster, Jan, did us service by sketching the two o’ us standin’ in the crater.

I gave Jolly a hand full o’ sunflower seeds to satiate her hunger, while I nibbled on fruit I’d plucked from a giving Guava tree near the island’s bountiful shore. For a good while the burdens that ordinarily weigh on a pirate ship’s captain seemed remote… etherial.