Hoist the Rogered Jolly!

'Do the men seem invigorated by my message?' asks Captain Hans Hohenlohe.
'Aaaar! It be difficult to tell, sir', replies his quartermaster herr Crispin Drei. 'Pirates be known for many things - heavy drinking; excessive violence; fondness for pets; and a commendable openness to amputees, sir. But they be not so well known for their vocabulary'.
'Well, what sorts of words aren't they familiar with?' asks Hohenlohe.
'Well, "vocabulary" be one, sir; aaaar! And "pecuniary" - that probably be another. Most I suspects thinks it might be a drink. Others, I thinks they hopes it be a monkey'.
'They'd like a modest monkey as a reward?'
'Nothing so tricky, sir, as a monkey with ideas above its station'.
'Yes', nods Hohenlohe thoughtfully, 'I suppose so. In truth, I was surprised to find that we had a flag for the word "pecuniary". Indeed, there seemed to a whole set of flags covering some words that one wouldn't normally expect in maritime communications'.
'Aaar, sir. Such as?'
'Well, "strobate", was one. And I felt that "transmogrify" was another interesting inclusion'. Hohenlohe looks at the rather large pile of neatly folded signal flags that rest in baskets on the deck. 'It would seem that the previous crew certainly were rather better educated than our fellows; and also' he says, looking at the crisp piles, 'rather more enthusiastic about ironing. Now', he says more determinedly, 'let's catch hold of that pretender fellow'.

Wisely dispensing with the notion of relying upon firepower, Hohenlohe directs his vessel to close with the enemy flagship. (Above, left) As his ship passes near the bow of the enemy, Hohenlohe commands his crew to grapple the Sausage.  Drei looks at the first mate, Lars Yerda; Yerda looks back.
'Aaaar, sir - there be no time for that really, I'm thinking'.
'A time and a place there is' adds Yerda in agreement.
'Use the grapples on the enemy ship!' shouts Hohenlohe urgently.
Drei and Yerda nod enthusiastically. 'A better use of our time that is' says the latter, and gives the order.
(Below) Success! The two ships are locked together.

(Above) Hohenlohe gestures forwards. 'At them men! Take the ship! Board them! Rest assured that I shall be supporting you from a command position best situated to give me a full overview of the fight; which, sadly, means that I must stay somewhat to the rear'.
Herr Drei hefts a cudgel and sucks his teeth. There's a shout from the crew and they then begin to hop over the bow and into the enemy vessel.
'It be tricky, sir', says Drei. 'There be quite a few of the enemy over there'.
'Well', says Hohenlohe, 'I always feel that it's good to stretch oneself'.
'Unless yer be on a rack,'says Drei reflectively, 'being tortured'.
The captain nods, watching his men pile across. 'Yes, yes - good point. Although I expect under those conditions that someone would do it for you'.
Gunfire erupts on the deck of the enemy ship, and the sounds emerge of cutlasses clashing.
'Excellent!' cries Hohenlohe 'Fly the flag for no quarter, mister Drei!'

(Above) With a display of "alacrity", "puissance", and "ardour" not seen since the sailors last glanced at a dictionary, the crew of the Centennial Sparrow fights its way onto the main deck of the Sausage.

(Below) On the rear deck, the Bachscuttel commander, Admiral Doenutz, looks up to see a black and white flag being unfurled on the main mast of Hohenlohe's ship.
'It's a skull and cross-bones!' cries out his wheelman.
'No, no: it's certainly a skull, granted', replies the admiral peering up into the enemy shrouds. 'But it seems to have a small caricature of a pirate fellow next to it. He's got his trousers down, and he seems to be thrusting something into the left eye socket of the ... Well, I find that simply disrespectful!'

(Above, right) To the stern (or whatever the back end bit is known as) of the Sausage, the Maverick can be seen sailing straight towards the Bachscuttel flag ship. On the Shrimp, however, the captain has other ideas.

The captain of the Shrimp is one Luther von Wugposch. Wugposch, accompanied by his pet monkey, Clive, were early volunteers for the navy of the Palatinate of Saukopf-Bachscuttel. The personnel shortages experienced by the navy had led at that time to a short-lived experiment in which the Bachscuttel admiralty permitted monkeys (of a good character) to serve aboard ship. In some respects this had worked out very well, since it turned out that their biting, incessant chatter, and penchant for relieving themselves in public places made them quite reserved by pirate standards. It also helped, of course, that monkeys would work, quite literally, for peanuts. In the longer term, however, things worked out less well, since there arose amongst the human crew a considerable ill-feeling towards their better behaved primate ship mates. A mutiny occurred prompted by resentment of the fact that, being fed fresh fruit regularly and having their own cages, the monkeys lived in much better conditions. Also, they tended to be promoted faster. Now, only Clive remains upon the Shrimp.

Seeing the Maverick heading straight for the Sausage, Wugposch piles on the sail and orders his vessel to interpose itself. As he stands upon the deck, he searches for his first mate and fails to find him.
'Where's the first mate?' he asks a sailor.
'He's eating fruit in Clive's cage', is the reply.
Wugposch frowns. 'So where's my monkey?'
The ship suddenly lurches drunkenly accompanied by some excited 'eeek! eeeks!'.
It collides with the Maverick (above)

Bachscuttel grapples soon secure the two ships together.

From the stern of the Sausage, Doenutz shouts to Wugposch.
'Save my ship! Order your men to board the enemy!'
Wugposch nods. 'That shouldn't be difficult, sir', he shouts back, 'our men really have very little in the way of interesting conversation, unless one has a special interest in weevils or rum; or weevils in rum. Or parrots'.
'Board', shouts Doenutz over the combat, '"board" - not "bored"'.
(Above) Wugposch barks out his orders: 'Get the men up: cutlasses ready! Board the enemy ship! Let's take the fight to them!''

Seaway to the Danger Zone!

'Vulgaria Expects Every Man To Do His Duty', says the Maverick's first mate slowly, 'Or I Shall Inflict a Modest Pecuniary Penalty'.

Pedro Miguel, captain of the ship, hawks loudly and spits over the side of the vessel. 'Does it now, and will he', he says, clearly unimpressed. He follows with a range of comments in his native Spanish; since these comments include wide-ranging references to clowns, the nether portions of horses, and activities pursuant to the production of children, they are probably not as supportive as Miguel's commander, captain Hans Hohenlohe, might have liked.

Miguel was not Hohenlohe's first choice as officer for the Maverick, and their relationship is frosty enough for those in their vicinity to benefit from some warm outer garments. But there was, in Bestwestung, no other sufficiently qualified seafarers at the the time of Hohenlohe's necessary departure except a small colony of grey seals; and the seals smelt even more badly of fish.

(Above) Suitably stimulated by Hohenlohe's message, Miguel orders the Maverick to turn. Certain that Herr Michael Agorn, the pretender to the pretender of the Vulgarian throne, is probably on the larger of the enemy vessels, he determines that he will close with the stern of the Bachscuttel sloop, the Sausage. 

Miguel began his career in the Spanish navy, and he seemed set for great things. Thanks to his possession of some compromising woodcuts of one of his superiors, he was able to enter the elite naval academy for Spanish officers, known as the canon superior or 'top cannon' school. But Miguel's fall from grace was rapid. There, he began a torrid affair with one Carlotta Madera Negra, a woman who claimed to be a highly paid civilian contractor but turned out just to be a well-paid washer-woman. Against the orders of his commanding officer, Miguel continued the affair, unable to resist her intelligence, physical flexibility and remarkably reasonable rates. Further difficulties followed as Miguel's brash self-confidence and inability to follow rules led to further run-ins with authority. Caught drunk and unclothed at the commandant's ball, Miguel then fell into a quantity of raw vegetables and dips - this full frontal crudites led to a brief suspension. Eventually, it became clear that Miguel was writing banker's drafts that his body couldn't cash; in fact, that no one could cash, because they were fraudulently obtained. This, and a terrible accident involving a goose, led to his suspension from the 'top cannon' academy. 

Later reinstated, Miguel's journey to the ports of Mittelheim began when, on the occasion of his officer sea examination, his crew, tired of obeying the orders of a cadet for whom the word 'personal growth' clearly meant just getting a larger wart, abandoned him on the desolation of Les Islas de Muertas, 'The Island of Death'.* Managing to escape his enforced isolation by eating the local cannibals, he was also helped, no doubt, by the cannibals' god, Chupachup, who liked a good bit of irony as much as the next deity. Since then, Miguel has managed to work his way to the only place where familiarity with the sea is, for a captain, merely a 'nice to have': Mittelheim.

(Above, top) The Sausage and the Centennial Sparrow begin to close with one another. (Above, bottom) As the Maverick begins to manoeuvre towards the stern of the Sausage, the other enemy ship, the Shrimp, runs out its guns in preparation to fire.

'Men', says Miguel loudly. 'Men, I have full confidence in your abilities in the coming battle. Indeed, such is my confidence in you, that I shall retire below. Do not disturb me unless the situation really merits it'. He pauses. 'And by "really merits it" I think that I mean that you should really be in need of my help. So, considering the range of possible scenarios, I'm thinking that "really merits it" might include circumstances not less than heavy damage to the ship; or a sustained enemy attempt to board us'. The captain starts to head below. Before he reaches the doorway, he pauses and turns.

'To be honest, lads, you should probably only come and get me for activities that really require the presence of the captain, such as surrendering this ship'.

(Below) As he finishes, the Shrimp fires both guns of its broadside at the Maverick.

The crew duck and then look up as both cannonballs whistle over the Maverick. When they look back, the captain has already gone. The door slams, and there can then be heard the sound of heavy furniture being dragged against it. Inspired by Miguel's leadership, the crew of the Maverick ignore the enemy fire and continue towards the Sausage ...

* Soon after naming this island, the Spanish discovered nearby an island that was even more unpleasant, which then had to be called 'The Island of More Death than the Island of Death'. A third, discovered later, wasn't quite as bad as the other two, and so was called 'The Island of Less Death than the Island of Death, but Watch out for the Snakes'. All of which illustrates the knotty problems caused by naming an island too soon. 

Battenburg Down the Hatches!

Captain Hans Hohenlohe looks over the decks of the Centennial Sparrow. The ship is in chaos - the crew lie exhausted or injured; small conflagrations burn perilously upon the deck; rigging, yards, and other maritime paraphernalia lie strewn everywhere.
'That', says Hohenlohe to first mate, Lars Yerda, 'is the last fire drill that I think we'll ever be trying. What a farce!'
Yerda nods in agreement. 'With us the farce is'.

The Centennial Sparrow is bearing down on two enemy ships, the latter having picked up Herr Michael Agorn, pretender to the Vulgarian throne. This is the fourth ship to bear the proud name of Centennial Sparrow. The third, a fine sloop, alas had to be abandoned, when, after its tiller broke, it lost a game of chicken with a lighthouse. That the lighthouse was on land, of course, certainly didn't help matters. Though the sloop was a fast vessel with sleek lines, its sailing qualities were compromised somewhat by the colossal rocks embedded in its hull, and its rapid switch, thereafter, into a one-use-only submersible. Surviving the wreck through the expedient of abandoning ship an hour or so before the crash, Hohenlohe and his crew made their way back to Bestwestung, and purchased another vessel. Receiving more money from his Vulgarian sponsors, Hohenlohe was able to recruit a second ship, the Maverick (of which more next time). These new ships have proven to be effective. Making good time, both ships made their way to Rotenburg; embarked the required troops; dropped them off on the coast of Bachscuttel; and since then have been waiting off shore to re-embark the Rotenburg expeditionary force and their expected captive, or to deal with any Bachscuttel interlopers.

'Enemy ships in sight!' comes the shout from above.
'Not unexpected', comments Hohenlohe, 'given that they are right in front of us'. Rousing the crew, he makes his way to the front of the Centennial Sparrow (below).

'Prepare the ship for action!' shouts the captain to his quartermaster Crispin Drei.
'Aaaar, sir. Any particular sort of action?' enquires Drei. 'Should I tell the men to dress for dinner, sir, or might there be some form of dancing?'
'Those are enemy warships, mister Drei, and I hardly think that we shall drive them off with the vigour of our jigs'.
'Aaaar, aye aye sir!', replies Drei. He turns to the crew. 'Mister Skorbutthunde, drop the top sail ... No! No! The top sail! ... The top sail is the sail at the top! Those are your trousers!'
'Why hasn't he got any trousers on?' enquires Hohenlohe to the quartermaster. 'I don't like the cut of his jib'.
'Aaaar, it be his jib that's the problem, sir. I think we be seeing altogether too much of it!'
As his crew scurry across the deck of his ship, like chickens that, just prior to losing their heads, were also forced into sets of roller skates, Hohenlohe can't help feeling that his men seem to lack some of the enthusiasm necessary for the coming fight.
'The men seem strangely mutinous, mister Drei' says Hohenlohe. 'The fire drill was lamentable. An actual drill would have done less damage to the ship. Are they still annoyed by that thing about the grog?'
'Aaaar, it don't play well, sir', replies Drei.
'Look, I've been over this already many times. I ordered Yerda to procure six barrels of grog. I cannot be held responsible if he cannot read properly. I cannot conceive of how he mistook the first 'g' for an 'f'.'
'Bollocksed it up, I did', admits Yerda sheepishly.
'Aaaar, sir, I ain't blaming you - but a mug of amphibians just don't refresh a man like rum. And then there was that thing with the provender, sir'.
'You mean the Battenburg - who doesn't like Battenburg?'
'Aaaar, sir - but salted Battenburg?'
'Yes, but now it will last on a long voyage'.
'Aye sir, it will: because no one will eat it. Even the weevils won't touch it - and they like marmite'.
Hohenlohe nods. 'Well, here's a thing, then: I shall improve the men's morale with a moving pre-battle signal. Drei, take this down ...'

(Above) Action is imminent as the two fleets manoeuvre. (Above, top) The Centennial Sparrow heels to port (or whatever direction right might be when one is floating about on water); behind, the Maverick starts to turn as well. (Above, bottom) Fresh from the Bachscuttel coast sail the two vessels of the Palatinate's navy. In theory, Prince Rupprecht fields the most powerful maritime forces in Mittelheim, thanks to the launch of the twenty gun Princess Caroline. However, as has been noted in a previous account, this ship has yet to receive a trained crew. Instead, Prince Rupprecht must rely on two smaller vessels hastily procured from local merchants: a sloop, the Sausage, and a bark, the Shrimp.

(Below) The sloop Sausage fires all three guns of its mighty broadside. Sadly, however, as with its land-based counterparts, it seems that maritime artillery too is concerned mainly with making smoke and a loud noise, and only secondarily with inflicting physical damage upon the enemy. On the Centennial Sparrow the only impact of the attack is to cure one of Hohenlohe's sailors of his hiccups.

On the Centennial Sparrow. mister Drei reads Hohenlohe's planned signal and nods.
'Aaaar, sir! I be very moved. "Vulgaria Expects That Every Man Will Do" - fine sentiments indeed, sir. I just wonders if the end part might be changed a little'.
Hohenlohe narrows his eyes.
'Aaaar, sir. I just wonders if "His Duty" might be a better ending than "His Trousers Up'.
'Do you not think, Drei, that firmly secured britches are an important health and safety concern,especially in battle?' Hohenlohe then sighs. 'Very well - "Duty" it is - make the necessary changes to the signal. But I shall hold you personally responsible for every trouser-related accident on this ship'.
'Aaaar, sir: but since I be on the subject: I also wonders about the second part'.
'You mean the "Or I Shall Have You All Hanged Liked Dogs" part?' replies the captain.
'Yes, sir' says Drei, 'that part'.
'Well, mister Drei: what do you suggest?'
'Aaaar, sir: something less ... confrontational. Something more ... supportive. Empowering, dare I say it!'
Hohenlohe pauses to consider this. The enemy flagship looms through the smoke.
'Very well' he says finally, and orders set the requisite signal flags.

On the Maverick, the first mate reads out the message slowly ...