Occupation Of Port Ryffe

Two years had passed since we last berthed at Port Ryffe, there to take on victuals, but before we had set sail again on that occasion, chance brought our captain into close contact with her deadliest rival and twin, Katherine. The encounter had left a scar on the captain's hand and the taste of gall on her tongue, a rancor directed as much at the port's government as at her sister for the matter of having harboured her. The captain had sworn vengeance, exacting it upon her sibling when another circumstance brought the two together, yet the score had not been settled with the official bodies at Port Ryffe to the captain's satisfaction. Thus each man of the Winged Adventure's crew knew that salt meat and dried fruits were not Capt. Corbye's sole interests when she laid the chart and ordered all hands to make sail toward that shore.

Coincidence is a tool in the Devil's hand. None would have thought that Morgan Corbye's plan to relieve the port of its rum stores and to lighten the government coffer-chest would bring her to a tete-a-tete with yet another old foe, Harbourmaster Franklin Beale. Engaged at a gaming table in the local pub, Beale was observed exchanging the publican's dice for his own shaved pair from behind a dusty curtain. Stifling the sneeze she felt building when she let the draperies fall, Capt. Corbye slipped into the darkened alley behind the tavern and brought her men together in conference.

"We've a change o' plans, lads. We're takin' Port Ryffe. Back t' th' ship right quick, an' bring th' irons. That cheatin' scoundrel Beale wants some teachin' in th' way o' 'onesty. You," and she addressed Robin Penn, our one-legged bursar, as she threw a purse of coins to him, "see to it 'e stays at table. Lose, but lose wisely. Keep th' sums in 'is favour, but just. You," she said, motioning to your narrator, the sorriest excuse for a pirate of the lot, "bait that mealy codfish they calls guv'nor down here, an' I don't care how but do ye no' force it! Tell 'im 'is auld mither is sickenin' t' die or summat. Nae, tell 'im th' bloody truth o' it! Tell 'im auld Beale's been cheatin' at dice an' someone's lookin' t' 'ave a piece o' is 'ide fer it. Beale's 'is pet, is Beale. That'll bring 'im. Get on! Go!" I sped off on foot and was not privy to the remainder of the Captain's outline.

Port Ryffe is not sizeable and therefore is managed exclusively by the Governor, an aide who is little more than a secretary, and two constables. Each, save the innocent and rather naive aide, has a personal method for lining his pockets with an undue portion of the common man's wages. It was the captain's surmise that Harbourmaster Beale had devised the means to serve his own interests at the cost of the local government and, knowing this, the Governor and his allies would undoubtedly treat any proof of disreputable dealings as an opportunity to discredit the very man who sought to profit at their expense.

It was quite easy to convince the Governor that he should be witness to such a criminal act, and that he should bring both constables to the pub to support the accusation it was his intention to make. All three men came along nicely, followed by the aide who was anxious to see how the due process of the law would be effected. When all had arrived and were grouped around the tables, Robin Penn, upon a signal from Captain Corbye again at her station behind the velvet, rose upon his good leg and knocked over his stool with his peg. "Ye bloody b-----d!" he swore. "Cheat a one-legged man outer 'is pittance? Ye're a rascal wot deserves throwin' t' th' 'ogs wi' th' rest o' th' swill!"

At that moment, seven members of the Winged Adventure's crew and the Captain herself sprang from the shadows and, two to a man, pinned them to the ground where they were shackled. Only the aide was spared. Justice was indeed served as all four agents of the goverment were frog-marched to the piggery, there to be rolled in the mud and subsequently put on public display through a hot September afternoon, the mix of earth and pig-soil hardening in the sun as rum and ale were served to all comers. The young aide was heard to plead with Capt. Corbye, "Oh, please! Take me to be a pirate!" but the good Captain refused, saying, "Ye'll make a better guv'nor when yer time comes, lad. Much better by far."