Any port in a storm

The inclement weather worsened as we voyaged home, forcing us to drop anchor in no man’s land. Normally naught but a ghost town, the settlement was abnormally populous on account of the tempest, and we bumped into a gang of coves, whiling away the hours with grog, dice and cussing.

"No Teeth" Wangford was the most senior – in seadog years at least. Despite his long stretch in the trade, Wangford had never progressed from the must junior rung. But what he lacked in ambition, he made up for in vice. He had been given the boot from numerous vessels for (among other things) tapping the barrel, smoking the hemp ropes, and lechery with the captain’s daughter.

As well as losing numerous commissions, he had also lost all his teeth, on account of his weakness for sugar. His daily routine would begin with a cup of treacle (milk, two sugars) and a bowl of shredded beet. Throughout the day he’d chow straight from the lassy keg, and last thing at night he’d snort a line of demerara (“for sweet dreams”). As for personal hygiene, each Christmas he would bathe in golden syrup, whether he needed to or not.

Cabin boy
"No Teeth" Wangford

Likes: suckin'

Dislikes: chewin'