“If that scurvy son of a bilge rat t'wern't already dead I'd kill 'em again!” bellowed Captain Brown. “How dare 'e pour sea-water in 'e's grog.”

“Cap'n, you would have done the same if you were about to be overrun by pirates,” offered a bare-chested seaman.

“Aarr, and that be why I want to kill 'em all over again,” Captain Brown cackled. “Now that brackish grog ain't good for nothing. Throw it overboard Mortinson.”

“Aye aye Cap'n,” the man replied, then turned and bellowed out orders to toss the grog overboard.

“What's our status Mr. Mortinson?”

“Mr. Hammer is dead sir, and the cook is injured. 'E burned 'e's hand and stubbed his toe,” Mortinson snickered. “Otherwise sir our crew is fine. Our main sails are torn, and our main mast'll need replacing a'fore we weather another storm. T'was a good battle all-in-all, sir.”

Brown gave him a grin which would make any baby cry. “That t'were the joys of being a pirate!” he boasted loudly. “Taking vengeance on our enemies, and plundering anything we want.”

A young boy came running up to Mr. Mortinson and whispered something in his ear. Mr. Mortinson's countenance fell. He motioned for the boy to leave, and he ran away faster than he came.

“What is it Mortinson?” growled Captain Brown.

“I'm afraid you won't like it,” Mortinson offered.

“I can tell I won't like it. What did 'e do to us now?”

“It seems he spoiled the rum too, turned it into a brackish mess along with the grog.”

Captain Brown flew into a rage of curses against his mortal enemy, and his family. He shook his fist at the water below. “Of all the low down things to do! It might be a good joke to spill some sea-water into the grog, but spoiling the rum as well is cruel. He really was the cruelest pirate to sail these seas.” Captain Brown paused as a gleam came to his eyes and an evil grin spread across his face. “Mr. Mortinson, make a note of this. We'll do the same if we are ever overrun.”