As the ship pulled into port the pirate captain posed, knowing that he cut a dashing figure next to his scabby crew. His hair was curled, his mustache twirled, and his hat sat jauntily on his head, feather rustling in the salty sea wind.

“Drop anchor, you maggot-brained pieces of carrion!â€? he roared, and watched with satisfaction as the crew scattered like little marbles. It was one of his secret joys in life to think up new and marvelous insults to hurl at the mishmash collection of men in his employ. He leered at a group of well-dressed women who were huddled together on the docks and they too scattered, frightened he was sure, by his awe-inspiring presence.

“Fetch my coat!â€? he ordered his first mate, a portly little man who reminded him faintly of a high-strung dog.

“Aye, Captain,” he said, mopping his brow and silently cursing the heat. He wished he had followed his father’s advice to marry well. The captain watched him go fondly, hoping he picked a nice pretty one.

It was time to visit his mum.