Carlos The Fierce

Historians' Note: The following passages were taken from the journal (or, in keeping with the times, "sea log") of one B. Bixler, a 19th century sailor and sometimes pirate and privateer. 

April 8, 1854, 7:15 ante-meridian

Set sail with a new rig today; calls herself the Columbian Exchange 'cuz of the routes she hopes to run and her unusual port of origin, some town in one of the middle states of the Union. Captain Carlos is an affable fellow from one of the island nations off of Florida. There has been much joking that he looks like a mean ol' grizzly bear who has been sated with a pot of honey.

April 8, 1854, 1:25 post-meridian

Captain Carlos has steered our ship directly at a oriental junk. Our hull hath torn through the middle of their ship, as Captain Carlos has the clipper moving at well over 12 knots. No order was given to loot the ship; it appears that the Captain destroyed the junk as a show of power.

Later, an old salt I've known well, Two-Winds Grilli, brought the code of the sea. Captain Carlos had him held down and ejected most of his elbow with his cutlass, dubbed the Intee'national Destroyer. Grilli was tossed overboard screaming "Captain Leyland would never do this!" We all remained silent. Captain Carlos grinned.

May 17, 1854, 7:17 post-meridian

While at first we were all taut, it's now become obvious that Captain Carlos tis the greatest captain we shall ever know. Over the past months he has either won each man's confidence personally or, if he failed to win a man's confidence, had that man put to his death. We have totally dropped the ruse of running the tea routes and instead pirate each day. I've never seen a ship, even those of the great S.H. Pook, move as fast or as ably as the Exchange does under the hand of Captain Carlos.

I have had no time to write over the past month because the Captain keeps us so busy with looting and vanquishing. 'Tis impossible to complain because he loots and vanquishes harder than any of us. I've personally seen him smite four or five men in a matter of moments with just a few swings of the Intee'national Destroyer. He's among the most creative captains I've ever known in devising plans of attack as well: in late April we took a frigate, the Sir Lancelot, by slinging two of our smallest deckhands (Crowe and Constanza) out of powder cannons.The men of that ship, once our crew were done, had certainly been lanced a lot.

Also, it is impossible to complain because if we wail injustice, Captain Carlos has promised to eat our hearts out of our chests. No one dares to see if it's a false avowal-the rumor mills of the trade routes, which move as fast as Captain's cutlass, lay claim to a story that he once ate a great captain's middle finger, simply as penance for potential glories.

 

May 25, 1854, 11:24 post-meridian

I find myself absolutely bankrupt of energetic humors. Captain Carlos continues to use the CE as an implement of aquatic annihilation. I have been on many ships, even sailing with the legendarily indefatigable Captain Ronny Paulino, but I have never worked as I am now. By my count, these are the ships we have taken under Captain Carlos, just this week: The Pig of Iron (those boys could wrangle), The Thick Leather Glove (twas brimming with opium in which firstmate Pino indulged), Mr. Wolgamot's Sailing Wig Emporium (an easy take), The Armada Galarraga (a narrow victory), and The Virgin King (a confusing battle that was nearly called a draw until Captain Carlos beat the VK's captain in a fig eating trial. Our Captain ate over 130 figs).

June 11, 1854, 8:45 ante-meridian

We awoke this morning in port with sailor Sowers banging the "meeting bell" a convention he started and swears helps organize things better. Once we were all gathered, Captain Carlos made a stunning proclamation, that he twas leaving the ship. We all wondered if it was the addition of the new and powerful Italian, LaPorta, that caused the Captain to act so hastily in leaving the greatest ship we had ever known. Before anyone could ask though, up sprang an argument about who would be the new captain. As I could never do it justice, I shall transcribe it here.

Deckswab Brown: I shall be the new captain! It's my right! I am the oldest!

Sailor Gimenez: No, it will be I!

Deckswab Brown: But I plan to never leave this fine ship!

Fourth Mate Hodges: If anyone will never leave, it's me!

Rope Specialist Gomez: I've worked all year to ensure that I will never leave!

Deckswab Brown: You're so cowardly that you may be thrown overboard!

LaPorta: Stop shouting.

Sailor Gimenez: Why?! Don't you want to stay here forever on this fine Clipper?

Captain Carlos: SILENCE! The new captain has already been selected.

All: Who?!

Captain Carlos: It shall be he.

And with that, Captain Carlos pointed his cutlass at the young giant who we had just picked up in our last port, in the far north countries.

All: HIM?!

And with that, using only his bare paws (I call them paws with intent), the giant ripped off the left arm of the Venezuelan, Rondon, who had not worked in months. All fell silent. Once a man is a known flesh eater, few will argue his ascendancy. We had our new Captain. When asked what we ought to call him, in between mouthfuls of Rondon, some heard him mumble: "Cap'n Nick."

 

June 11, 1854, 4:45 post-meridian

Just as Captain Carlos was leaving the ship for the last time, I was able to pull him aside and ask him why he was leaving, where he was going. He replied immediately: "I'm going to be an Injun."

I don't know what that means but I'm sure wherever Captain Carlos goes, collision and chaos will follow in his path.

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