We speak of our ship impaired and work is soon arranged. Set forth into Corpsewake Cove, to sewage, sight of black dorsal fin, sharks’ head twinned in murky wave as we pass hovels dark, to the left we find a barber’s hovel.
Narrow alley, to the welcome party brutes, who wait in shadow with teeth now bared. To his widow Cumbucket will be sent, a day late perhaps. Red mist spreading ‘cross the stones as shots exchanged, confusion passed, my axe tastes blood amidst the screams of men, who bend to ground and to us. Adam refreshed save his aged visage, we battle on as muskets fire, as grog reviles, agile Cap’n moves through the fray, Bart’s fists fly to end a day, and two cowards fall, their attempts to flee thus ended.
Shadows climb the alley bricks as through their gear we search, the weapons and the armor, the broken flames of lives extinguished. To our hold their silver, their white veined die of jade. Bloodied paper doll more brittle than the day rise. Bart and I feast in the roots of the Cove. A sign speaks engraved with sun at Garrett House.
Denied of rooms, our sight unsightly, to Scabworks we’re directed, The Soggy Boot found as Corpsewake explored. Back to carousing, to the smoking lamps and laughter, where Barnabus, the grog dispensing angel, stands temper short. For Bart the dark shanty’s sought, ‘Spanish Ladies’ to guide ships way. We stand within the throng of jubilation. Who dare join us to tell tales of the Cove?
“Ship, Captain, and Cargo” is played nearby and quick to catch our Adam’s eye, rum in hand and in brain, a wager set to blave this rube but tables turn and silver flies.
Bart upon a stage unseen begins his voices work for the crowd attendant. Silver is regained through song, as Cap’n sets her wiles amongst the taps and Barnabus his blunderbuss upon the wood.
Pug-nosed and pugnacious, Captain Charlie Rive makes himself to Adam known, though introduction be delayed. Tempers calmed by Barnabus’ bell, no violence here, but antes, cheer and gossip come freely, our souls replenished if not our purses. Adam back to rolling dice, with 50 silver now regained. By then so over Soggy Boot’s vibe, it’s to Ol’ Jack’s or his pulpit where we set our sights.
Just up the cliff to left, or pulpit right? Grog or pugilistic arts? Upon our walk again accosted, by seagull flight, Hedren’d there upon incline. A battle brief, cheeks now slightly lightened, a flock of shrieks race to us through the dark. Their scout well axed we race to pub’s respite.
Bart and Adam separated, set upon aft a grizzled meeting, miscreants come to sow discord, gunpowder stars that light. Evening song and mercy cried, no quarter given by brawlers’ fist; teeth, blood, neck and head eviscerated. Asleep upon a shabby cot, awoken by Bart’s rage, the grizzled man shall ne’er again seek solace in his family’s arms. To Bart a whalebone pipe (t’were what a lady did declare), as gruesome repast sought in hovel bare.
Perhaps on Corpsewake’s shore we did set forth with feet awry, as safe passage shall not be granted here on stone or stair from man or sky.
The patrons rank and fighters ranked; Beetle and Muski held elite, And there’s a manticore. A. FUCKING. MANTICORE.
What even is this Cove where we’ve arrived?
Rock the Boat, like we did to Van Houten, squares off against the second, “Finish Him” set by a Duke’s whim. The rest is silence. A Duke who is loathed by all. The establishments owner Jackie Ribeye not excepted. Her fight club waiting to be joined.
Beetle and Gobnoggin’ set upon each other, as in stands we watched. Gobnoggin’ punching down to no avail, as Beetle holds the day nay night, our Cap’n in her cups hungry for Ribeye, or information.
Lessons here taught, perhaps not learned, at stagger brisk we set out for Scabworks beds, pursued by crush, by horde, by mass, and throng. Their ire dropped like torches by Cap’n’s grace, remaining flock turning to save face after putting wrong foot forward.
Near Corpsewake’s shore a gathering, swarming downward. Barts passage stalled by a blue meanie, tink tink tink ‘fore Bart responds. A blue menace fled and Scabworks found, heart longing now for Hollow Ground.
2 bits to stay by mariner told, that and the stench of urine… SOLD! Mariana tied to a spit, hungry after carousing with a VIP’s progeny, whilst Adam dined upon the beach, on captains ship, his wallet breached.
Pirate Björk 