“If ye can’t sail, swim. If ye can’t swim, hobble. If ye can’t hobble, crawl, but by all means, keep on a’voyagin’.” 

– Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.*

* If he was a pirate, that is…  

June 18 1825

‘Twas a cold morn in th’ summer of 1825. Th’ ol’ sea dog Rusty had awoken each of us for another day of sailin’, but th’ wind was far too mighty be to settin’ out on th’ open waters with our sails all big. Captain had to show us scallywags th’ ropes on reefin’ our sails back in Pisgah Bay, an’ as Captain spoke o’ th’ reef knot, th’ wind was seemin’ to blow much swifter as he jabbered away.

We sailed out of th’ bay with a hearty meal in our bellies an’ th’ strength of 10,000 men! But alas, as we left th’ bay, th’ wind battered our sails, rippin’ our reef knots from their clutches. Almost e’ry one in our fleet had their sails a’flappin’ in th’ breeze. So th’ fleet coasted back into th’ bay. We patched up our ropes an’ reefed our sails shipshape.  We call to weigh anchor an’ hoist th’ main. We circled in th’ bay, waitin’ on th’ rest’a our jolly crew to set forth into th’ deep blue sea. Me bein’ th’ navigator, I was plannin’ our voyage in th’ cabin as th’ waves rocked me bones to an’ fro. Th’ boat was rockin’ an’ me sea legs hadn’t gotten ready for th’ day. 

But out of th’ blue, me ears heard a loud blubberin’ from a mate on me ship. Goldenlocks was on th’ till, an’ he was shoutin’ a mess of things.

“Avast ye, mateys! Feast yer eyes upon this squall!”  

 I stuck me head out th’ cabin an’ I saw a hellish sight. Young Pamela’s mast a sunk in th’ waters! Th’ wind was so ungrateful, ‘twas pillagin’ Pamela’s ship; their mast be split in two! I looked t0 me starboard side an’ shiver me timbers! Cynthia’s mainsail; ‘twas ripped straight down th’ middle! 

An’ I see our Captain in his wee boat, Arrgh!. With his propeller against th’ rough waters an’ his own jib sail a’torn,  he be goin’ to see th’ wreckage to our fleet. It’s all hands on deck on our ship, Margaret, makin’ sure we ourselves don’t be plummetin’ into Davy Jones’ Locker.

Goldenlocks is on th’ till, steerin’ out of th’ wind as Grublubber an’ Codfish, our two boatswains, tack our sails. Kimberly, a mess of landlubbers if I ever laid eyes on some, were turnin’ ‘bout ‘cause their propeller be in a twist an’ our trusty quartermaster had to sail over on his cog to mend up their motor so them scurvy bilgesuckers could get a’sailin’ again. Bless me soul, ‘cause our Margaret seemed to escape th’ fray. Not a scratch or tear on our beaut o’ a vessel. After Captain had rounded our fleet back in th’ bay,  we sat on th’ water a’waitin’ for a decision from Captain an’ th’ Quartermaster. Th’ damages to Arrgh!, Cynthia, an’ Pamela were far too rough to be out on th’ open waters for another full day.

If any other ships saw us through their nifty spy glasses, they’d surely plunder us of all our booty! We had just pillaged th’ seaside town o’ Grand Rivers an’ we weren’t gonna give up our hard earned loot for no Navy or plunderers alike.

So th’ Captain tells our crew to start a’headin’ South towards our home port. We had sailed across th’ sea an’ it’d be a rough voyage goin’ across with half of our ships vulnerable. I was navigatin’ in th’ cabin, an’ ‘twas blisterin’ once th’ sun peeked out through th’ stormy clouds. Th’ waves were rough but with me navigatin’ an’ Goldenlocks’ tillin’, we made it back to port by midday, just in time for a quick wash up an’ a hearty meal. 

We visited with some landlubbers at our port, an’ visited th’ village shop for some grub an’ gear.

That night we slept in port, still a’thinkin’ about if we could go sailin’ th’ next day. Pamela’s mast still split in two would take days of hard labor to get back up, an’ sewin’ th’ sails would take even longer. We slept in th’ cabin, listenin’ to th’ quiet chatter of me crew as th’ boat rocked me to me slumber. I meself learned a’somethin’ special that a’day. Even when th’ wind knocks yer mast down, don’t let it knock down yer spirits as well. We powered through an’ made it back to port safe an’ sound. So for all you ol’ sea dogs an’ landlubbers alike, keep on a’sailin’ forward no matter th’ cause! That’s a pirate’s life for ye!