The Continuing Story of Captain Dirty Martini (or Don’t Call Me Olive) IV

Don’t be bringing bad luck aboard me ship or it’s back to shore for you!

“Captain, the new recruits are ready for your inspection.”

Mr. Blaze stood at the door of his captain’s quarters. As always his face was an impassive mask. He addressed the Captain’s desk, which sat, as was usual for midmorning, unattended.

“Excellent Mr. Blaze,” Martini mumbled from a dark corner of her quarters, obscured by bamboo screens and a light cloud of cigar smoke, “Let them stand to attention a while longer Blaze whilst I get my head around being vertical this early in the morning.”

“Yes Captain, anything else?” Blaze replied.

“Have Piecemeal send over eggs and whatever else it is you buffoons eat when you insist on rising before the suns over the yard-arm.”

Martini emerged from her quarters, puffing slowly on a large cigar, an hour and a half later.

“Jolly good victuals Blaze!” she crowed, “The eggs were damned inedible but the rum was tip-top.”

Blaze nodded his head to indicate the small rowing boat moored alongside the port side of Maelstrom. A bedraggled group of men occupied the boat; the same boat that they had rowed the half mile from shore and had been standing in, waiting by the Maelstrom, for Martini, for 2 hours. The trip and the waiting had taken its toll.

Martini strode across to the balustrade, leaned over, saw the boat’s occupants and burst into fits of laughter.

“I thought I would take the liberty of testing their sea legs Captain,” Mr. Blaze explained.

“Excellent idea Blaze.” Martini chuckled.

Two of the men had already succumbed to the relentless pitch and roll of the waves beneath their craft and were sprawled over the sides of the boat gagging and retching pitifully. Of the remaining three, one swayed conspicuously.

“Bring the uprights aboard Blaze.” Martini directed.

When the recruits were on deck Martini began her scrutiny. The first volunteer who had been swaying in the row-boat was now a nasty shade of green.

“Well men!” Martini began, “Tell me why you wish to sail on my ship! What good are you going to do me?”

She paused in front of the swaying man and puffed a large cloud of cigar smoke towards him. The man’s countenance grew greener as he vomited then passed out at Martini’s boot clad feet.

“Throw him in the boat with those other feather dusters,” she muttered as she stepped delicately over the unconscious figure.

“Well boy,” she growled at the next recruit, “What’s your name?”

The boy in question began to shake and stammer a quaking reply.

“Speak up boy!” Martini yelled impatiently, “This isn’t a bloomin’ tea-party! Give me your name!”

The nervous youngster removed his hat, revealing a shock of red hair,

“Gillibrand sir, er Captain,” he managed to whisper.

Martini stood stock still, glaring at Gillibrand.

“Mr. Blaze!” she hissed,” What, in the name of Capricorn, is this?”

“A mistake Captain” Mr. Blaze replied smoothly.

Gillibrand wrung his hat between his hands, apparently trying to render it even more lifeless than it already was.

“If you please, sir, Captain, sir, what mistake do you mean sir? Captain?” he muttered miserably.

“Gillibrand,” Martini spoke calmly and unbuttoned her black velvet jacket, “You have the reddest mop I have ever had the misfortune to set eyes on.”

“Yes sir, Captain”

Martini removed her jacket and passed it to Blaze who folded it gently over his arm.

“You, my lad, and your damned red hair have brought bad luck aboard my ship.”

“Oh! Sir, Captain, I am sorry!” Gillibrand spluttered, giving his now formless hat a renewed wringing, “What can I do to stop it?”

“Excellent question Gillibrand,” Martini replied, cigar clenched between her teeth as she carefully rolled back her shirt sleeves, “What I need you to do is stand perfectly still and close your eyes.”

“Stand still and close my eyes,” Gillibrand repeated slowly, his face brightened and he smiled, “Yes Captain!”

He held his forlorn hat tightly between his hands and shut his eyes.

Martini drew back her right fist and punched Gillibrand swiftly on the nose. He dropped, soundlessly, onto the deck.

“Thank-you,” Martini said to the heap at her feet.

“It’s a shame about his hair,” Martini mused aloud as she buttoned her shirt cuffs, “That Gillibrand had a good head for orders. Get him off my ship Blaze.”

“Right you are, Captain,” Blaze replied as he gestured to the crew to remove the inert form of Gillibrand, “Right you are.”