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Notes11/08/2020
Bloodxclat
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Bloodxclat
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16
A night in Port Royal
What could have gone wrong in that dive? I couldn't remember. My condition when I pushed open the weathered door to the exit of the tavern had already been ruined. By then it was already too late. In the wake of my euphoric drunkenness, I came across a few sailors from the British Merchant Navy. Card games, Five Finger Filet, some magic and PUFF! And when the stupid sailors had their money out of my pocket. What fun
I had made the calculation without Commander Jonathan Barnet, who had kept an eye on me since my arrival in Port Royal. "Calico Jack, well... " was the last thing before my field of vision collided with a teak chair leg and my nose turned to red mist.
Drops collect on the bars. I hear the surf and smell the sea. Ground mist crawls into my cell in the sand. An old spice box - cinnamon or aniseed - did they take - old wood and bars? Are you serious? I gently knead my crooked nose. The two guards sit around the campfire. The smell of freshly brewed tea rises in my nose. How can these subservient dogs drink that horrible stuff. Disgusting.
The sugar cane to the left of my prison sway gently in the mist and a warm familiar musk note enters my nose - Anne? Seconds later arrows whiz through the air. One hits its target - hissing the tea tips into the embers. The second arrow gets lost in a spice bag - anise stars and nutmeg spill over the sand. "Hey, what's going on... ?" Was the last before the third arrow found its target.
With a jerk, the old crate behind me breaks open; bald Pete has half of the back wall in his hands while tattooed Sam peeps through his blowpipe. Behind it, grinning in the glow of the fire, is Anne Bonny - my wife. "Lock Calico Jack in a spice box. Barnet will get to know us. Let's go, come on."
In the distance, HMS Tyger danced in the waves while the rest of the crew celebrated Commander Barnet's birthday.
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Airy, light, sweet-smoky, amber and musk, spices and tea. An unbelievably great scent that immediately captivated me and forced me to tell you pirate stories ;)
I had made the calculation without Commander Jonathan Barnet, who had kept an eye on me since my arrival in Port Royal. "Calico Jack, well... " was the last thing before my field of vision collided with a teak chair leg and my nose turned to red mist.
Drops collect on the bars. I hear the surf and smell the sea. Ground mist crawls into my cell in the sand. An old spice box - cinnamon or aniseed - did they take - old wood and bars? Are you serious? I gently knead my crooked nose. The two guards sit around the campfire. The smell of freshly brewed tea rises in my nose. How can these subservient dogs drink that horrible stuff. Disgusting.
The sugar cane to the left of my prison sway gently in the mist and a warm familiar musk note enters my nose - Anne? Seconds later arrows whiz through the air. One hits its target - hissing the tea tips into the embers. The second arrow gets lost in a spice bag - anise stars and nutmeg spill over the sand. "Hey, what's going on... ?" Was the last before the third arrow found its target.
With a jerk, the old crate behind me breaks open; bald Pete has half of the back wall in his hands while tattooed Sam peeps through his blowpipe. Behind it, grinning in the glow of the fire, is Anne Bonny - my wife. "Lock Calico Jack in a spice box. Barnet will get to know us. Let's go, come on."
In the distance, HMS Tyger danced in the waves while the rest of the crew celebrated Commander Barnet's birthday.
--------------------
Airy, light, sweet-smoky, amber and musk, spices and tea. An unbelievably great scent that immediately captivated me and forced me to tell you pirate stories ;)
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