Before we left Gatuno, we did a little digging. Said "digging" involved talking to local bartenders, fishermen, and disarming one homeless drunkard, but within a few hours, we discovered that the closest pirate lord was Eduardo Villanueva, who was supposedly pirating off of the coast of Spain. When I questioned Mistress Ching about the reliability of these claims, she responded by asking if I had a better idea for finding the lords. I didn't.
The three days of sailing the rest of the way across the Atlantic Ocean toward the European Continent were surprisingly uneventful. No pirate ships, Navy vessels, or mythical sea monsters disturbed our journey. On about noon of the fourth day, we made port on a small pirating port on an island not far off the coast of Spain called La Sangre de Nuestros Enemigos, but I was told that everyone called it "The Theives' Hideout," or just "The Hideout."
"So do you think Villanueva is here?" I asked Mistress Ching soon after we docked. The crew was rushing around, making preparations for staying in port for a few days. Mistress Ching and I were calmly standing and looking out at the small town, although I'm not sure if it even deserves that title. It consisted of a few ramshackle buildings that looked like they might fall over with a slight gust of wind, and about twenty or so scruffy looking people, who lumbered through the streets as if they were the living dead. Sometimes they were followed by a skinny goat or a few mangled looking sheep. The only shocking thing was the amount of ships docked here. The number of pirate ships here almost equaled the size of the Royal Navy.
"I think he is out there," Mistress Ching said as she pointed a bony finger out at the horizon. "We will wait here until he returns from his gallivanting about. He is notorious for being the most restless of all of the pirate lords. He will come back here eventually." After she said this, she began to walk back towards her quarters.
"Wait! How long is eventually?" I shouted back to her, but she was already out of earshot.
I continued to look out at the miserable looking town. I wonder, I thought, why do they give this little scumbag of a town as grand a name as "The Thieves'' Hideout?" And why are there so many other ships here? There are much better pirating ports, yet it seems that all of the ships within fifty square miles decided that this dump of a village was the best place to make port.
My curiosity was soon sated, because only a few moments after I wondered, the men from our ship finished with their work. They disembarked and made their way to the dilapidated town. I wondered what they planned on doing, seeing as there wasn't a bar in this sad little town.
As soon as they got off the boat, the villagers warmly welcomed them and ushered them toward one of the decrepit buildings. One villager stood by the entryway, collected something from each of the crew members, and then let them into the building. I got out a spy glass and discovered that each crew member was giving a small amount of money to the villager before entering. I decided that I would do the same.
I had some spare change in a purse on my person, so I disembarked and got in line. Once my turn came, I handed my money to the villager. His gave me an odd look, and I raised my eyebrows in response. He waved a hand, indicating that I was allowed to go in.
When I went into the building, the only thing that was in it was a set of stairs leading downward. There were a few tables and chairs where some people were out playing cards, but from the boisterous singing, off-pitch singing, and drunken yelling, I could tell that the real party was going on downstairs. So I followed my ears downstairs.
I assumed that the giant cave that I had just walked into was naturally made, because it would have taken way too long to carve out by hand because it was so massive. Two circular bars were in the middle of the room. Each was being worked by two bartenders who looked like they hadn't had a good night's sleep in a while. The rest of the room was filled with wooden tables and chairs, and almost every one of those chairs was occupied. Some pirates were playing cards, while some were drinking and talking loudly with slurred words. Some were doing both. There was a group of six or seven minstrels who were playing a merry tune off in the far corner. The air was thick with the smells of liquor, smoke, and body odor.
An underground pirate bar, I thought. Now I've seen it all.
Although the sights and smells of this bar were quite overwhelming, there was one particular person who caught my attention. He was sitting at the bar closest to the entrance and laughing drunkenly, sloshing around the drink in his cup. I could recognize that high-pitched laugh for anyone else.
"Looks like I've found myself another pirate lord," I said, although I don't think anyone heard.
