Raise your boot in toast
By Ted Wall
I'm not sure how you would qualify this story. I suppose it would count as a fan fiction but it is based off of some Captain Morgan commercials. Anyway, the character of Captain Morgan belongs to the Captain Morgan Spiced Rum company.
"The Captain always knows how to get the party started." Said Tweek as he surveyed the shambles of the Captain's quarters.
Tweek Bacardi was a tall, thin, black man originally from Bermuda. He was muscularly built and had a shaved head. At the moment he was naked to the waste, for the Caribbean heat was oppressive, but he still wore his long red and black pants, which were baggy and cool. Captain Morgan himself was sprawled in the elaborately carved bed he had procured from a merchantman and supplanted to his cabin. He was completely naked and the reason for this was abundantly clear for Morgan was sharing the bed with five young, beautiful and equally naked women. Tweek sighed and shook his head, he had been the deck master for Captain Morgan for many years, but he was still surprised sometimes by the Captain's exploits.
"Captain?" Tweek asked gently. But receiving nothing but a grunt in response Tweek hauled of and kicked the bed causing Morgan to roll over and groan. The Captain opened one eye ever so slightly and then clenched it shut again with another groan.
"Bright… to bright…" He muttered, his voice groggy.
"Captain, First mate Miller told me to tell you that we've got a sale at nine o' clock and we're gaining. Merchant ship, looks like a…"
"Marissa is perfect capable of handling something as simple as taking over a merchant ship. She used to be a captain herself you know. I trust her judgment completely." Morgan said closing his eyes again and rolling over so his back was to Tweek.
"Miller said it looked like a RUM RUNNER sir" Tweek continued with a smirk.
Morgan's eyes popped open at these words and he sat up to look at Tweek, though he didn't seem at 100% yet. Tweek had seen Morgan hung over before but it was still a frightening sight. The captain's eyes were red and puffy, his long wavy hair a snarled tangle of raven locks and his usually trim goatee showing half a day more than a five o'clock shadow. Levering himself unsteadily to his feet Morgan swayed on the spot, squinting his eyes against the light which bombarded his muddled brain.
"What manner of colors are they flying? If it's the French we might have to get a little nautical, their running more and more heavily armed these days. I think we should…" Morgan said taking two uncertain steps towards Tweek before catching sight of himself in the full length mirror he kept in his cabin. For a long moment Morgan paused eyeing his naked reflection as if trying to figure out what was wrong before finally turning back to Tweek and saying, "Perhaps I ought to throw on some pants or something if we're going to be addressing a crowd eh?"
"That might be a good idea Captain." Tweek responded with a chuckle
Several minutes later found Captain Morgan emerging, slowly, from his cabin. He hadn't bothered with his full toilet. He was now wearing a worn crushed red velvet jacket, a stained white shirt unlaced, exposing his chest, a pair of faded gray trousers and a pair of knee high leather boots. He had also strapped on a bandoleer holding four pistols and a belt that held his cutlass. He ascended the stairs to the bridge, leaning heavily on the rail. He was holding a large flagon of a dark brown liquid and he gestured with this to the diminutive Spaniard at the helm.
"Mr. Quervo, this coffee tastes like shit is there any reason for that?" Morgan asked flatly
"That would be because it's not coffee sir. It's pig swill, Cookie used the coffee pot to keep it warm."
Morgan blinked then considered is cup for a long second before taking another swig. "Nothing but the best on my ship eh? 'Ello Marissa, love, and how are you today?"
The first mate turned to face her captain with a wry smile. She was wearing a black satin bustier with gold trim that showed off her well rounded breasts, form fitting trousers, and high heeled knee high boots. Her blonde hair looked freshly tousled from the wind and her brilliant blue eyes sparkled from behind her dark eyeliner.
"Better than you apparently." She said teasingly, "What the hell happened last night? The last I saw of you was when you and half the tavern went for a little midnight party cruise in the jolly boats."
"Let's just say that I encountered some very enthusiastic young ladies that couldn't wait to get a little Captain in them." Morgan said with a smirk. "So then, what do we have?"
"Rum runner, sir. French by the look of it." Marissa responded with a glance toward the sail that was drawing ever closer and the fluttering red, white and blue French flag visible in flashes.
"Well then, let's say Bonjour." Morgan said with a smirk.
As they approached the French tried to escape sailing at random angles, tacking back and forth radically to try to shake the pirates off. When they were 200 yards off the pirates began to be bombarded. As the French tacked back in front of the pirate's bow they broad sided the chasing pirate ship. Canon balls slashed down on either side of the fast approaching Silver Bullet and one a stray cannonball whizzed past the bridge narrowly missing Captain Morgan's head.
"Hmm… Mister Bacardi, would you mind running up the white flag? These French buggers are making this much harder than it needs to be." Morgan said nonchalantly, taking another swig of the swill in his mug.
The white flag was raised and the bombardment stopped. Soon the French ship dropped canvas and slowed, allowing the pirates to catch up. As they pulled level with the French, Morgan could see Villard Noir scrawled in gold along the flying bridge. Leaving the bridge Morgan strode down the deck and took up a position on the rail.
"Bonjour… Uh… Je suis… Capitan Morgan… um… Je Veux te parler… Oh hell, I so do not have the energy for this. Look, do any of you speak English? Uh… Parlez-vous d'anglais?"
There was a long pause and some muttering in French before a figure appeared at the rail of the French ship. The man had long hair which fell in ringlets to his shoulders and a well trimmed mustache which curled up at the ends. He was wearing a large, elaborate hat with a long feather in it, a white shirt and black trousers.
"I am Jacques De Shiraz and I speak for Capitan Merlot." He announced in a ringing voice, sweeping off his hat in a bow. "What is it zat you have to say?"
"I…" Captain Morgan said spreading his arms wide "am hung over."
Jacques translated and there was a smattering of laughter on the French ship before Morgan continued.
"And as we all know, nothing helps a hang over like MORE booze. Now see, I have it on good authority that you are currently running rum back to mother France. Now my question to you is do you think that king Lou would be grudge a thirsty man a barrel or two of rum. Particularly when YOU have the manifests saying how many there are, savvy?"
Jacques turned and discussed this for a moment with someone Morgan couldn't see. The mystery of who this was however was soon solved as a second man joined Jacques at the railing. Judging from the elaborateness of the man's coat and hat there no doubt in Morgan's mind that this was Captain Merlot.
"So then! I'm a bit of a thought here. You bring a couple barrels of rum, I bring some saucy wenches… I know I have at least five on board who'd probably love a French tickler… we play some music, start a fire and get as drunk as Irishmen."
"Hey!" came an Irish brogue from behind him. Captain Morgan turned and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Sorry Jameson, no offense mate. Still, you did wrestle a giant octopus for a barrel of whiskey once." Morgan said before turning back to the French.
Jacques began to translate, but the Captain cut him off.
"And if we refuse?" Merlot asked pompously.
Morgan gave the other captain a smirk and shrugged, "Well then we blast the be Jesus out of you with our cannons and take what we want anyway. Now, we could go back and forth about this all day but let hit the highlights for you. Option one: you end up having loads of sloppy drunken sex on some beach. Option two: you end up in the middle of a pitched naval battle with a bunch of bloodthirsty sober pirates. But I'll let you decide shall I?"
Captain Merlot stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Several hours later found the crews of both ships passed out in various states of undress. As it turned out, Morgan's estimate of five eager women was an understatement of epic proportions, the result of which was a good time for everyone.
Captain Morgan sauntered down the beach towards the tree line. He had a bit more of a swagger in his step now. He took a long drag on the bottle he had been carrying and heaved a big sigh. He turned at the sound of a cough behind him and turned to see Marissa sitting on a barrel of rum.
"Your powers of persuasion never cease to amaze me." She said standing and crossing her arms over her chest.
Morgan strode over and propping one foot on the barrel, he took another long drag on the bottle. Straightening himself, Morgan rested one arm on his knee and the other draped around Marissa's shoulders.
"That's because I'm the Captain love."