September 18, sometime in the Baroque Era, with a touch of present day.

Written with penmanship of Dissonancy, the tomboyish first mate of the gunmaster of the Phantom Acoustique, with an exaggerated form of pirate talk dedicated to tomorrow’s special occasion: “Talk Like a Pirate!” day. Arr-harr!

Hoa, me mateys! Captain’s asked me t’write a word’r two. T’greet th’ likes o’ ‘ee, me fair-minded blokes. One o’ these days ye’ll ‘av a chance t’join th’ crew, if you be interested. List’n t’ Cap’n, ‘e be tellin’ ‘ee what y’need t’know in the next few days. Savvy?

Airr, it be a mite bit challenging t’be a gunmaster’s mate. Always gotta check th’ gunpowder. If tharr be somethin wrong, ah-harr me ben friend, I mean anythin’ at all, we b’scuttlin’; we b’straight away int’ curst ghost ship!

T’speak o’the devil, havn’t ye heard o’the ghost ship, Ouzel? I first heard of it from a landlubber’s gabblin’.  Few’m words of a landlubber worth repeatin’, but tis’n a story t’be heard!

Twas a fine galley, tis filled with rich spoils meant t’be taken t’ the Mediterranean fer trade.  It left on the’voyage, but n’er did it return. Nay, the owners o’th ol’ galley came t’grips that tharr precious cargo was lost t’ the briny deep.

Time mightn’t ‘a’ moved on, or it might’ve, but surely t’would ‘a’ forgot th’ Ouzel, tworn’t fer th’fact o’ th’ desperate curst ship be comin back t’port, years later, more loaded w’booty than’n was when’t left.  Th’ crew be tellin tales here ‘n there of pirates takin’ em captive ‘n forcin th’crew ta take an act o’piracy. It be a sad story, but’n with a happy endin.

Ah-harr, I be hopin that the crew o’the Phantom Acoustique (that be us!) ’tis with a happy ending ‘r two. Cap’n be prayin fer’t to happen. We all be prayin in our own sort o’way. An’ I be hopin t’meet ‘ee real soon.


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