The Pitter Patter of Tiny Fleets!

The Freistadt of Bestwestung - a modest port at the mouth of the River Strudel, whose fortunes rely primarily on fishing and shipbuilding. It is Mittelheim's nearest equivalent to the thievery, filth and inequity that marks out a pirate den: if the pirate den had really let itself go, that is. In Bestwestung, such traditional piratical activities as smuggling, fighting, swearing, drinking, and the wearing of parrots and wooden prosthetics are usually reserved for the quiet of an after-church Sunday. For the remainder of the week, the population really let it all hang out.

(Below) At the docks, the usual hustle and bustle is interrupted by the raucous arrival of a ripe band of cut-throats. These seem to be actual pirates, as can be determined by the quantities of  rum being consumed and the numbers of 'Aaars!' being uttered. At their head is a tall fellow, flamboyantly dressed, with a large gold-laced hat. This is none other than the sailor of fortune Captain Hans Hohenlohe, one time captain of the Centennial Sparrow but now, after his costly exploits in pursuit of the lovely Princess Freya, in need of a new ship and crew. The urgency with which he has sought to procure a new source of both is explained by the fact that he has lately been issued with letters of marque by Prince Dimitri of Vulgaria. An extended rummage through the dingy dockland dives of Bestwestung has turned up a collection of likely lads eager for adventure, plunder, and an opportunity to escape being chastised by their mothers for failing to tidy their rooms. Next to the captain stands his first mate, the Swedishman Lars Yerda. Nature has prepared Yerda well for his new role, the first mate having eyes like a ferret, a nose like a weasel, and knees shaped like an amusingly formed Welshman.

(Above) 'What about dis vessel, sir - just the ticket it looks!', says Yerda to Hohenlohe in his abominable German, pointing at a ship in front of them.
'Hmm, no', replies Hohenlohe. He points to his left. 'This is the vessel that we need!'
'But sir - perfect this one seems!' insists the first mate.
(Below) And indeed, it does seem to be exactly the sort of vessel that any self-respecting maritime cut-throat would like to have: a compact but roomy ship; fast; manoeuverable; and with adequate armament comprising of both light cannon and swivel guns.
'Most useful a soup would be, sir', insists Yerda.
'It's a sloop, herr first mate: S-L-O-O-P. Sloop. And I'm not convinced that we do need it', says the captain. 'Unless, of course, you actually meant "soup", in which case, given my hunger, I could be tempted'.
'Sloop schmoop, I'm thinking. Spelling overrated he is', retorts the first mate snappily.
Hohenlohe sighs. 'You are too dismissive of the importance of good grammar and spelling, herr Yerda. For example, recent rumours tell of a nasty incident resulting from King Wilhelm of Gelderland's attempt to write a message to his servants declaring that he was thirsty and ordering that he be sent a large quantity of beers'.
Yerda shrugs. 'A problem that is?'
'Well, herr Yerda - yes it is, if you're a king in an autocratic political system and you spell beer "B-E-A-R"'.
'Oh dear', admits Yerda. 'Fat problem'.
'Yes', says Hohenlohe ruefully, 'a very big problem indeed. Apparently they were washing honey out of the palace carpets for weeks'.
Yerda nods.
'And not just honey', continues the captain. 'You know, it turns out that they don't just go in the woods.'

Hohenlohe turns to his crew.
'Men, I have chosen our ship! I shall purchase it at once. Soon, your next stop will be a life of furious adventure!' he cries.
'Oooh, lovely!', shouts one. 'I'm looking forward to some healthy exercise'.
'Exercise?' replies the captain suspiciously. 'What is it that you think that you have signed up for, my man? You are now all pirates!' Hohenlohe takes from inside his coat one of the recruitment posters that he has had distributed around the town. 'Pirates!' he repeats, pointing to the word "pirates" laid out in large, bold letters at the top of the missive.
'Ahhhh, I see', replies the recruit. 'I been and misread it, sir. I mistook the "R" for an "L". Still, my mistake. I expects there'll still be plenty of healthful aerobic activity to be had on the high seas'.
As the men break out into a sustained barrage of 'Aaars!', the Captain winces, but then perseveres, shouting 'Glory awaits, my men. We have merely to creep up on it when its asleep and grab it! It's time to terrify our foes!'
There are cheers.
'It's time to shiver their timbers!'
'Aaaar!' and more cheers
'Splice their mainbraces!'
Wild cheering, and a barrage of 'Aaars!'
'Poop their decks!'
Sudden silence.
One voice pipes up. 'We gets paid extra for that, right sir?'

'I'm not sure about this new crew, herr Yerda', says Hohenlohe quietly, turning to his first mate. 'Are you sure they have the right qualities for a short and brutal life on the ocean? I asked you to get for me men of the right calibre: by which I meant, of course, men that would be of the wrong calibre for just about every other activity.'
'Scurvy dogs you asked me to get', says Yerda.
'Yes, herr Yerda. I thought we'd cleared that up. I think we lost something in the translation. You got me an actual dog - with rickets' replies the captain. 'I meant the men themselves. Being a pirate requires certain qualities. A certain ... outlook on life. For example, last night the whole lot of them got wasted on rum and port. One might expect that any self-respecting pirate crew might use that condition as the useful foundation for some riot and arson'.
'A bit naughty they jolly well were', says Yerda defensively.
'"Naughty" isn't a quality I'm trying to develop in them. Last night's antics were less a riot and more a sort of frolic'.

'The difference is what?' asks Yerda.

'Well, I suppose that one would expect more violence and less accordion music'.

The first mate shrugs. 'Off they can bugger'. He then turns back to the ship directly in front. 'Soup?'

(Above) 'No', says Hohenlohe, decisively pointing to the left - that's the ship we're going to take! It's smaller and more easy to handle with inexperienced sailors.' He turns again to his assembled crew.

'Prepare yourselves, my hearties!' he bellows. 'For you are about to leave behind your old lives!'
The men cheer.
'Yes', continues the captain. 'It is time to wave farewell to your sweethearts', he looks at the dirty, foul-smelling specimens in front of him, 'or possibly more likely, say goodbye to your collection of bodily parasites, and prepare yourselves for a pirate life of adventure!'
'To the Caribbean, sir? To the Spanish Main?' they shout.
'Well', says Hohenlohe, 'let's work up to that, eh? First stop - the coast of Rotenburg!'
'Is that near the Caribbean, sir?' ask the men.
Hohenlohe pauses for a moment, reflecting, and then says 'Yes! Why not!' He continues: 'We sail at the turn of the tide!' cries the captain.
'Ham the beach is!' says Yerda loudly.
'That's easy for you to say', replies Hohenlohe.