Queen of the South

Finally, and with great reluctance, came Francisco’s wench – Cilla the South Sea Stealer. This maiden of mischief, born of sheep thieves and common thugs, Francisco had found while traversing the distant hemisphere, his lecherous smirk causing her heart to melt. And, to be sure, the amour was reciprocal, as her light and quick-witted fingers and deft stiletto technique were to be much admired.

Nonetheless, things were not all rum and ginger, for the bilge master had neglected to account for one key detail: for all her criminal pedigree, she was no pirate born. Green around the gills before reaching the gangplank, the smoky stink of the hearties’ pipes brought to her cheeks vibrant new shades of ailment. For medicinal purposes, the mates offered her a swig of nutmeg liquor. The linctus proved less than successful – the bouquet alone elicited first ague and secondly her breakfast.

We hoped she would be fortified by the forthcoming banquets of fresh mackerel, lumpsuckers and sabre-toothed blenny. However, the prospect of nightly fish suppers she considered no better than cold poison luncheons. Thus, she resigned herself to a diet of biscuits and weevils in return for labouring only when we were firmly secured to land.


Stevedore
Cilla the South Sea Stealer
Likes: three-piece suits
Dislikes: three-piece suites