The Pirate Wind is a Fickle Bitch: Adventure

Arr! Well, y'see, m'lad, it's not so much that I ain't hiring any new hands as that I ain't got a ship to hire 'em on. What happened? So glad ye asked. Now be a good fella and buy me another ale to wet my whistle? I canna think properly when I'm dry. One damn fine reason to ship out as soon as I, er, acquire me a ship. Well, we was out on the vasty deeps, becalmed for seven days we'd been, when finally a wind rose up to kiss our sails. We cried gratitude to her, not knowing what a fickle bitch she'd be. We swore to give half our plunder to her alter when we reached safe port again, and damn if that bitch ain't holdin' us to it despite our plunder being far off and away in the sheiks' caves. But where was I? Arr, that be right. The wind rose up and we left the flat weed-grown seas we'd been entrapped in. Singing, we was, as we was blown along. And after a time, we saw land on the horizon. Again, we blessed the wind. Then like the fickle bitch she was she kissed us on the lips and left us for another ship. Just like a damn lightskirt.


Inspiration: You really don't want to know.
Story Potential: High! Or at least this could be damn fun to write!
Finished Length: Short story.
Notes: So we've got a Regency-era Irish pirate, then? *snicker* Right-O. Accent needs a ton of work. But a humorous sea yarn? That could be *so much fun*!!!!!