…from the October, 1957 issue
The Doclopedia #1,307
How Did You Get That Scar?: The Pirate
“I see you staring at my bosom, mate. Or rather, at that circular scar on the right one, correct? No, no need to apologize. Strapping young lads such as yourself can’t help but stare at beauties like these. Ha! I made you blush! How adorable.
The story is as simple as swabbing a deck. My crew of ladies and I had been making things lively down in the Indies and decided to head east for a spell, just to get a change of scenery. The fact that we left just ahead of a great sweep by the Spanish was mere coincidence.
So we were off the coast of Africa, taking prizes from both the Crown and the French when two French ships of the line come over the horizon and give chase. After about half a day, we weren’t losing them and the distance between us was getting damned short. The only trick left to try was to head for a rocky little island we had stopped at before and hope we could run the Frenchy sods aground on the low lying reefs.
The plan worked on the first ship, but the captain of the second had better luck. We ran into a reef and he was on us. A fight breaks out as they boarded us and during the proceedings, somebody shot the fancy looking pistol right out of the captain’s hand. The fight goes on a while longer and they get the best of us, but only after losing a good number of men.
Captain Rambord, for that was the name the Froggy bastard gave, had us all tied up on deck and was telling us how much we would enjoy a French prison. I politely told him my opinion of the French, their prisons and him in particular. That got him mad and he picked up the remains of his pistol and starts heating it over a torch. While he’s doing that, he tells me how the pistol was a gift from some duke or something and how he would use it to brand every one of us, starting with me.
All eyes were on him as he walked up and pressed that red hot barrel to my chest. I screamed and screamed. The pain was terrible, but not the worst I’ve ever felt. He laughed and started heating up the barrel for my First Mate.
And then his ship caught fire.
Well, as you might expect, most of his men took off to help fight the fire, which seemed to be pretty intense. That left half a dozen armed men and the captain with us. When 14 of my crew jumped up and attacked them, they went down without a shot fired. Once I was freed, I started heating up that pistol barrel and telling that scurvy dog how I’d had the presence of mind to prepare for being captured.
You see, I had told three of my ladies to slip over the side the moment we ran aground. They had waited for the right moment, then two of them started fires on the French ship. The third one had climbed up a line and slipped a knife to one of the crew tied to the railing. The knife got passed along unseen due to everyone watching the captain and I. Ah, the French, so easily distracted.
And so the captain’s ship burned, the other ship was not going anywhere due to a hole in her belly, our own damage was minimal and Captain Rambord is never going to be much use to any woman. We looted their ships after forcing the crews to swim to the island, then sailed off on the high tide. As you can see, my wound healed, leaving only this small scar.
Now, my handsome young fellow, how would you like to learn some very saucy tricks I picked up during a trip to India?
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