Had on one of my favorite garage sales finds, a pirate shirt, the last couple of days. Garage sales are places where you can find the coolest and funkiest clothes. Some people have trouble wearing stuff that other people have found somewhere, purchased, and worn for awhile, their energy being in it and all, but I don't have a problem with that unless the energy is way way off in which case my guidance would have been to not be at that garage sale in the first place. I would have passed it by.
So back to my pirate shirt which looks really cool and fits me perfectly, which is another thing that happens every once in a while, you find a piece of clothing that seems tailor made and wear it over and over until it's threadbare because you don't think you'll ever find any piece of clothing like it again, but you do.
Anyway, this post is about being a pirate and what was that like. I was a pirate at one time, in one life, I feel it in my bones and I will tell you it wasn't a glamorous life. It was a lot of time spent out at sea looking for ships to raid and running like hell if they looked at all threatening because the Royal Navy was on the hunt for people like us and would take us out if they could. If we were ever spotted we would head for the coast and inlets there that we and only we knew about because our vessels had shallower drafts than their ships did plus we had compadres in the local area. The navy wouldn't follow us onto land and we knew it. Our safety was in sticking close to shore and never venturing out too far.
About all that is left of us.
Markus Spiske- Unsplash.com
The trading ships also stuck close to the shore in case supplies ran low and because venturing too far out used up valuable resources like manpower and time. They were on the clock, same as us, trying to eke out profits before the hazards of their occupation took too big a toll.
Pirating was a desperate life and once you got into it you were no good after that. Marked for death, you were, for being a pirate or associating with pirates in any way was almost automatically answered by trips to the gallows. Governments hated us, citizens too, and so we lived on the very fringes which weren't very popular places to be, let me assure you of that. I don't recall any lusty port where we could sail into the harbor and be welcomed by kegs of grog and women fluttering their handkerchiefs at us from brothel windows like you see in the movies. That would have been a dream come true but our dreams were mainly to plunder a gold bearing ship and get the hell off the water and make our way to the frontier where we couldn't get found or spotted by anyone and live out the rest of our lives but disease took us, storms, fighting (or the wounds we suffered from doing that), malnutrition, and drink. The navies of various governments vying for control of the seas constantly sunk our vessels and even the best and most cunning of our breed were eventually outclassed and outmaneuvered by the ever changing outside world which developed countermeasures against us that made The Life less than worthwhile. Just wasn't any chance for us to score anymore.
Yeah, we were drunks, plunderers, and looters, scourges upon society, debauched lechers and freaks of nature, but at least we were honest about who and what we were. We didn't pretend to be anything else- and that was our downfall. We should have taken our cues from the Slick Willies of the time who were far better at the game of amassing booty than us.
The trick back then, which is the same one used today, was to hide behind respectability to do thieving. In that way you could be gathering up all the gold in the world and still able to walk down the street unmolested, the population unaware of your crimes, and maybe even cheering you.