Tales of The Briny Deep, I

A short performance for 3 - 5 salty sea dogs. (To be related in their best quartermaster's euphony)
You'll be needin' a narrator, a couple of sailors, and an ol' pirate captain what's got a mouth fer talkin'.

*Note: It's ALL in the presentation. The accents, the motions and expressions, that's what makes or breaks it. I promise a +250% awesomeness if read loudly and with a pirate voice.

Narrator -
One dark and moonless night, to the left of the pier and down the little alley with the sign, there was seated in the tavern three merchant sailors and a pirate. Now pirate I say when of a truth the old captain was pirating more pints than privateers these days, and in fact hadn't set foot nor peg on his own ship in months.

You see these days his good leg was feeling as stiff as the wooden and he'd found him a hook what fit snug round the bottle so he could hoist his ale and toss the dice at the same time. The salty breeze and clap of the waves on the beach outside were all he needed, that and his mug, to live again those days long lost to the sands of time.

(Sitting round a table in an old tavern)

(after a pause fer establishin the proper ambiance)

Narrator -
All it took this night to get the captain started was a drunken query from one of the sailors about how his peg stood up to a round on the dance floor.

One of the Sailors -
(Drunken query about how his peg stands up to a round on the dance floor)

(Guffaws of his fellows)

Narrator -
After the guffaws of his fellows died down and the shouts of a brawl out in the street moved off into the night, an unfamiliar silence fell over the tavern, and even the old barkeep leaned a little closer as the salty sea dog began his tale.

Salty Sea Dog -
Well ya see lads,

Narrator -
He began, words growling from his salted throat like the rattling of a rusty anchor chain,

Salty Sea Dog -
Twas just ta leeward of 'ol Saint Lucia with a hold nigh ta burstin' ah rum and Spanish gold when the King's Navy finally caught up to us. We came round the Pitons and there they sat, just waitin' fer us, two fine Spanish galleys.

Ne'er a coward, me cap'n ran up the colors an out the guns. Them Spaniards tried their best to get round us and take us between or run us into the shoals, but we had none of it! The first broadside took the mast right off one of em and left her dead in the water. The other though, she put up a fight. Reachin' the deep water we hove to and took em hard to starboard. I was up at the rail, wavin' me cutlass and shoutin' like a fool, me blood up in me ears ya know, when a twelve pounder up and took off me leg.

Arrrr! but that near took the wind outta me sails, but I still finished me four o' dem Spaniards I did afore I went keel up'ards.

An' that lads, twas how I got me peg!

(awed noises and calls for another round)

Narrator -
Now that called for another round, this time a jug of local rum with enough kick to it that after only two mugs the next deckhand asked the captain about his hand.

The Deckhand -
(Asks the captain about his hand)

Narrator -
Most knew that the Captain's hook was a touchy subject, and the look in his one eye, peering as it was from under the brim of his great hat, stuck the young sailor to his chair sure as a harpoon. But after a moment the glare turned into a far off gaze, into years long past.

(oceany kind of noises, if that be possible, would be appropriate at this juncture to signal a flashback

The Captain -
Twas many years long dead lad, afore ever I'd faced the locker of Davy Jones. On me first ship with me first crew and I was the king o' da seas. We took our fill from a plantation at the tip ah Jamaica and was headin' fer Florida fer ta' hide me booty. I already had the spot picked out, I'd got a map from a reliable lookin' feller a couple a years back and in truth we was two days just ta find the accursed river so I knew it was a good spot.

Well I picked me out a bunch o' me best mates, dropped the dinghy, and off we went. We was all of da day gettin' up inta the swamps, didn't find me pretty little island until the night was settin' in, and we didn't catch wiff nor glimpse of them indians what were follerin us. Painted cannibal savages they was, and we'd just got us a pig on the spit when they attacked.

With screams that'd freeze yer bones they came splashin' across, o'er to our spit o' sand, fifty of the devils at the least. Hollerin' and carryin' on like demons they was. We showed em what for o' course, though we left a couple of good lads there in the sand to keep a wary eye on me treasure.

Next mornin' as the sun came up o'er the fresh graves, there was a great lotto big ol' logs floatin' about in the muddy water and not a dead savage to be seen. Now one o' da lads was decided that them indians changed thereselves to logs, and foolish as may be the notion, there was really just no tellin one way or the other. But as I was reachin' out ta cast off the dinghy, one as dem great ol' logs rose up and bit off me hand!

Aye twas a crocodile! Big as yer mother it twas! And ta this day he's waitin' there fer ta guard me booty. And so mateys, that's how I earned me hook!

(Congratulatory calls for more rum)

Narrator -
This of course called for more rum, and after admiring his new Drinkin' Hook and plenty of elbowing from his mates, it was the third sailor's turn. With another swig of rum and a hiccup, he managed to ask, circumspectly o' course, about the eye patch:

(With another swig of rum and a hiccup)

Third Sailor -
And what sir, happened to yer eye?

The Old Pirate -
Well I'll tell ye.

Narrator -
Said the captain, and lifted the patch to show them the gruesome sight, and gruesome it was.

The Captain -
On a pretty little stretch o' sand off near ta Tortola, with a wench at me side, I was takin' me a nap on the sand when wouldn't ya know it a seagull pooped in me eye!

Narrator -
Now terrible as o' course that was, it didn't seem to account for losin' the eye, and one of the swabbies asked the old pirate straight out;

One of The Swabbies -
(Asks the old pirate straight out)

The Old Pirate -
Ay me hearty,

(Pause fer the full effect)

But twas the day after I got me new hook!


(A moment's silence, and then with a spray of rum and a pound on the table the salty Captain throws back his head and roars with laughter, and soon the lot o' them are laughin' rudder ta scuppers and shoutin' fer another bottle o' rum)

(one of them shouts over the din "Drink up me hearties yo ho!")









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