Ineffable was first. A wrong turn while in Bristol with my Nan, a sudden flurry of man-o-war uniforms, and away.
Mary Louise, forty guns, took us on the return – the rum, the ship, and me,
Nymph out of Barbados, Little Turk of Guadeloupe, Grampus on the Madagascar loop, Loyal Cook at the Cape, and Neptune back toward the Carolinas. Some went down at each encounter, some were put ashore. And me – I went with the ships. Always the rum, the ship, and me.
Outrun, outgunned, outmanoeuvred on the Long Island approach by the Royal Fortune, dragged into Boston and the prosecutor at last. Some were to swing, some were seen as forced and therefore released. And me? Outbound on the Albemarle.
I guess I’m just impressionable.