“After you, Mister Cooke.”

Cooke stepped forward with “Old Irontooth,” his favored blunderbuss, packed with a double powder charge and a handful of grapeshot. “Old Irontooth” made a very eloquent argument, worthy of Demosthenes, to the Spanish lock. Seeing the error of its ways, the lock yielded to persuasion.

“Remember, boys,” Hume said. “Much as we mourn our fellows, the fact is that through their sacrifice we’ve all got more of a share of the golden treasure in the hold.”

Cooke made a gruff noise and kicked in the door. The lanterns revealed…piles of shot and shell, a Spaniard dead from a wooden splinter to the eye, and a powder charge smoldering mere inches from a heap of gunpowder. That, and a prisoner clapped in irons: a young woman in the habit of a missionary nun.

“This treasure leaves something to be desired, skipper,” Cooke deadpanned.

“Abandon ship!” Hume barked. There was no dousing that powder charge, not in time to be sure that the sparks thrown up wouldn’t ignite the entire magazine. Cooke gave his skipper a look as the men took a powder to flee the burning powder.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Hume grumbled. He pulled a brace of pistols from his quartermaster’s rig and blasted through the chains restraining the nun. She could be useful as a hostage, or something. She was clearly in shock, and allowed the boarding buccaneers to carry her limply topside.

Hume continued to bark orders to his men, only cutting the grapples when he was satisfied that all of them were clear. They worked the Fancy Rat free with gaffs, but it had only made a quarter-league’s distance when the Nuestra Señora erupted. It wasn’t enough to sink the Rat, any more than the explosion of the Surprise had been to put the Nuestra Señora herself under, but the sails were torn, ropes were parted, and wood was splintered even as the deck was sprayed with red-hot debris.

And, at that moment, the nun opened her eyes and delivered a sharp kick to Cooke’s stones. Her ruse of shock falling away, she wriggled free of his grasp and made a dash for the gunwales and freedom.

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Pulled almost directly alongside Nuestra Señora, the Surprise let loose a full broadside at point blank range as the Spaniards were reloading their guns. It was a volley that would have left any other ship a splintered hulk, but the galleon’s mysterious Spanish Plate was too great an obstacle, and the shot bounced off as if fired into a sheet of iron.

In response, the Nuestra Señora ran out her own Spanish guns. Hume could see men aboard the Surprise dropping their ramrods and grapples and fleeing, well remembering what had happened to the Gunway II. But it was too late; the Nuestra Señora roared her Spanish Cannon and the Surprise was obliterated. Its magazine blew, ripping the ship in two and flinging men and cannon in all directions. Those who had made it into the water before the explosion were dragged screaming below by the suction of the submerging wreck.

“Keep ‘er steady, boys!” cried Hume. To their credit, the crew of the Fancy Rat didn’t break or run despite what they’d seen befall the other ships in their flotilla. Hume had a moment of grim thought–the boys knew that they’d be sent to the bottom running as surely as they would fighting–before he gave to order to board. “We’ll give ’em a surprise as a remembrance of our mates now perished!”

The Fancy Rat had approached from astern as the Nuestra Señora had been distracted by vaporizing the Gunway II and Surprise. Hume had his men run out onto the prow with grapples, and at his mark the men threw them. It wasn’t the traditional way to grapple with a foe, which was usually done gunwale to gunwale, but the Nuestra Señora had none of her bewitched Spanish Cannon to the rear. At the same time the first grapples were tossed out, Hume threw the Rat‘s rudder hard to port; this brought the ship’s gunwale perpendicular to Nuestra Señora‘s stern. With ladders and grapples, Hume and his men could board Nuestra Señora from the rear like a Port Royal courtesan.

Hume led his men personally, with their first order of business to silence the gunners. The Spanish Cannon they fired were the most potent weapons the seas had seen since the secret of Greek Fire had been lost, but without men to touch them off, they were so much ballast, and the muskets the Spanish marines bore seemed to have no such enchantment. As luck would have it, the Spaniards to port were too intent on taking aim at the Duke of New York, which had turned and made sail to flee the engagement.

“Take ’em out, boys!” Hume howled.

It was too late; the Spanish Cannon roared and the Duke of New York vanished in a pillar of flame and screaming. It was a hollow triumph, though; still flatfooted by the rear boarding, the Spaniards manning the deck cannons were swept away by a volley of musketry. The others abandoned their guns as the shouted order was passed along: “¡Todas las manos! ¡Repeler asaltantes!”

Hume grinned, and drove the point of his cutlass into a deck officer’s rib cage. “Let’s see how they do in a fair fight!”

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This column, a response to the previous columns by William “Black Bill” Cubbins IV and Felisa Lloyd Matsumura-Tamaribuchi is from Poe Edminster-Caar. Dr. Edminster-Caar is a professor of Undead Studies at Ravensholme University in New England and the author of the controversial undead rights book “I Am Zombie.” As one of the first openly zombie faculty members at a major North American university, Dr. Edminster-Caar has won five ZAAD awards and the prestigious Golden Brain trophy from the Swedish Zombie Academy.

I was, as ever, amused to see the childish infighting between pirate affairs commentator “Black Bill” Cubbins and ninja activist Felisa Matsumura-Tamaribuchi in these pages. One can predict their scrapes with almost clockwork efficiency, point and counterpoint, attempts at serious discourse by one hijacked in favor of shrill condemnation by the other, all in the service of flogging their pet horses in the ridiculously named “Pirate-Ninja Peace Process.” Which, as Voltaire might quip, involves neither pirates, nor ninjas, nor peace, nor a process.

It matters not, though, because in the end they will all taste the same when they are devoured by zombies.

I have been accused, occasionally, by living commentators of militantly pushing an “undead agenda” and attempting to pervert the young and the impressionable into taking up a zombie lifestyle. Implicit in that is the backwards notion that zombiehood is a “deathstyle choice” or acceptance of the abhorrent “resurrection camps” where people attempt to “cure” zombies, as if we are suffering from some sort of affliction or disease. I am certainly more reasonably in my pursuits than Mr. Cubbins or Ms. Matsumura-Tamaribuchi, I think, though not for any lack of passion.

Rather, I am confident that time is on my side and that history will prove that we zombies are the ultimate solution to the “pirate-ninja peace process” and indeed all societal problems. Once we’ve all grown enlightened enough to learn that zombiehood is as natural as being alive, and is in fact preferable, we can all agree that laying down and accepting living death will solve all the world’s problems. Mr. Cubbins and Ms. Matsumura-Tamaribuchi are united in their opposition to undead rights, perhaps the only thing they do agree on, but even now any country or municipality that bans open zombiehood is experiencing a brain drain to more undead-friendly locales, and whether by persuasion or open bitings on the street, zombies will soon render both pirates and ninjas obsolete, with those that resist shown the error of their ways through the devouring of their delectable brain matter.

History is on our side; we will exhume you.

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Yesterday’s post by Willam “Black Bill” Cubbins has elicited the following response from Felisa Lloyd Matsumura-Tamaribuchi. Ms. Matsumura-Tamaribuchi is a noted participant in the Occupy Treasure Island movement, the Sharper Blades, Sharper Minds katana outreach program, and the United Ninja College Fund. She is a current Distinguished Daimyo at Kaizoku University and is the Tokugawa Chair of Shinobi Studies there.

I actually find myself agreeing with the vile corsair “Black Bill” Cubbins when he wrote in his recent column warning against cultural misappropriation and lack of diversity within “Talk Like A Pirate Day,” a pseudo-holiday that no doubt many of he and his fellow repulsive buccaneers would like wiped off the face of the earth in as much as it highlights their inability to form articulate and coherent thoughts and sentences and their predisposition to plunder and violence.

But I would go even farther than “Black Bill” and argue that he and his race and their expansionist piratism are guilty of the very charges with which they seek to tar and muzzle their opponents. After all, what is the pirate-promoted image of the ninja as a violent and mercenary group of assassins but cultural misappropriation? What is the racist, xenophobic, colon-blocking, and meteor-summoning pirate occupation and oppression of ninja islands of spice and gold if not a lack of diversity? Humanity may be a beautiful rainbow, but it is clear that pirates are the reddest part of that rainbow, unable to communicate except by cannon fire and boardings in what they hypocritically call self-defense.

What about the Battle of Kagishuma Shrine Island which “Black Bill” mentioned in passing? Even though pirates claim to have given up their claims to that sacred outpost of ninjadom, they saw fit to invade it again over the summer, cannons and flintlocks blazing. By rough estimates compiled by the Ninjauthority, a completely impartial and independent group, over 200,000 ninjas died in the assault out of a prewar population of 200,001. And all that just because the ninjas of that peaceful island were exercising their sacred right, as ingrained at the bedrock of our culture and heritage, to raid passing pirate galleons and stuff the flayed skins of their crews with straw for use as targeting dummies. The pirate-run media has, of course, only taken their side in the matter through their biased reporting of ninjas going into battle wearing their own children as armor (which anyone with five minutes and Wikipedia knows is actually both a sacred tradition and a necessity on tiny Kagishuma Shrine Island).

In short, we must take “Black Bill” Cubbins at his word every “Talk Like A Pirate Day,” and indeed every day of the year, by pledging our lives and our treasure to the cause of throwing every last pirate back into the sea and slaughtering them to a man in the name of the peaceful ninja peoples.

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William “Black Bill” Cubbins IV, our regular commentator on pirate affairs, is pirate-in-residence at the University of Plunder Bay as well as executive director of UPB’s William Kidd Center for the Study of Pirate Culture. A devout pirate, his most recent prize was a Chinese junk full of junk food bound for snooty Californian importers.

Ahoy me hearties. On this, the most visible day for pirate culture, I’d like to issue a call to reason. Talk Like A Pirate Day is an opportunity to engage with pirate culture, but also an occasion for flouting hurtful pirate stereotypes. I’d like to share these simple tips with you:

-Remember, pirates are a culture, not a costume. It is never okay to dress as a pirate or, god forbid, a “sexy pirate” unless you identify with pirate culture.

-Slurs like ass pirate or widely discredited defamatory texts like Protocols of the Elder Pirates are never something that a pirate would use in daily conversation. Terms like buccanner or corsair are still controversial; the one thing everyone agrees on is that only pirates can decide when they are appropriate and that only pirates should use them.

-Pirates have many dialects. Try speaking the South China Sea or the Horn of Africa dialects of pirate to help educate people on our diversity and rich cultural heritage.

-Keep in mind the many pirates killed or wounded by vicious ninja attacks during this summer’s tragic Battle of Kagishuma Shrine Island. There are still many places in the world where ninjas actively seek the extermination of us and our way of life.

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I always thought that reports of piracy were exaggerated.

But that was before I was overtaken and boarded by a 1976 Chevy pickup flying the Jolly Roger.

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William “Black Bill” Cubbins IV, our regular pirate affairs commentator, sent us this rebuttal to Ms. Matsumura-Tamarabuchi’s column published yesterday. Cubbins serves as pirate-in-residence at the University of Plunder Bay, and executive director of UPB’s William Kidd Center for the Study of Pirate Culture. A practicing pirate, he most recently took a Spanish Man o’ Tacos freighter off Cadiz laden with baked golden treasure from Mexico.

I was disgusted by Felisa Matsumura-Tamaribuchi’s column yesterday demanding the release of murderer and reprobate Death’s Hand–or to use his appellation in Piratese, Lorryblawwer or “Burner of Buses.” But it is not surprising; if there is one thing you can count on from the disorderly, untrustworthy, illegal, racist, fascist, and unattractive hordes of ninjakind, it is to milk every perceived slight in the overwhelmingly pro-ninja media.

The so-called Grand Sensei–a meaningless and made-up position used to buttress pro-ninja sentiments and to disguise the fact that ninjas as a nation and a people were unrecognized prior to 1868–is in fact a murdering, pyromaniac bilge rat. His open attack on a bus of peaceful pirate settlers en route to our most sacred ritual, Plundercon, was but the latest in a litany of ninja aggression and terrorism. Fifteen peg legs, seventeen hooks, twenty-eight eyepatches, and one wooden aorta were given out as a result of that attack, a toll in blood and treasure not seen since the dark days of the Anti-Pirate Campaigns of the 1710s.

Ninja claims that Death’s Hand was acting in self-defense, that he is a man of peace, ring hollow in the face of naked ninja barbarism and aggression. The ninja way is the way of violence, of rejecting civilized parley in favor of daggers between the ribs. Politicians and media commentators repeat the lie of the peaceful ninja out of pro-ninja bias or out of fear that a stray remark will enrage “peaceful” ninjas worldwide and lead to still more slaughter, violence, and assassination. One needs only look at the titles of Death’s Hand’s mind-poisoning “children’s” books and the list of simpering pro-ninja public figures lined up to protest his just imprisonment for evidence of that.

It is perhaps most telling that Ms. Matsumura-Tamaribuchi must trot out that most well-worn Big Lie to support her case, the so-called Protocols of the Pirate Elders. Serious scholars have long since dismissed that text as a forgery concocted by the British crown during anti-pirate pogroms in the 1700s, and for such a fringe theory to crop up in a supposedly reasonable column further reinforces the fact that ninjas are an unkempt, proudly ignorant, and backwards race.

Reject the call for in the “ninja liberation struggle.” Use your brain. Plunder freely, plunder well, and ignore the lies of the pro-ninja media. Let not their lies and slander diminish the strength and ferocity of every throaty “arr” we raise to the heavens with our mugs of grog.

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Felisa Lloyd Matsumura-Tamaribuchi is a frequent editorial contributor to EFNB and the current Tokugawa Chair of Shinobi Studies at Kaizoku University. Widow of Sensei Takeharu Matsumura-Tamaribuchi of the Black Shadow Clan, who died in 1997 at the age of 108, Ms. Matsumura-Tamaribuchi was born in Omaha, Nebraska in 1977 and is perhaps the most visible and vocal pro-ninja activist in the nation today.

I write to you today to decry the illegal, racist, fascist, and high blood sugar promoting imprisonment of a great and shining light among the Shinobi–or, to use the popular but less enlightened term, ninjas. I speak of course of Grand Sensei Shi No Te, Death’s Hand, also known as Adder’s Venom, Chill-of-First-Snow, and The Tickler. He is a political prisoner, a symbol of the shameful treatment of ninjas by world governments and the world media.

His crime? Merely blowing up a bus full of pirates on their way to Plundercon 2002. I, and the greater ninja community, hold that this act was a political testament, an expression of free and therefore protected speech, and a great favor to all cities and gas stations at which the bus might have stopped. For, as detailed in the absolutely true and oft-repressed text Protocols of the Elder Pirates, pirates are and have always been secretly planning to take over the world and plunder it like a giant galleon from the shadows. Grand Sensei Death’s Hand was merely striking in self-defense, as part of the inevitable move to drive the vile pirate invaders back into the sea.

His incendiary actions and unpopular slaughter aside, Grand Sensei Death’s Hand is a man of peace, as are all ninjas. The ninja way is the way of peace, only slipping a muffled dagger between the ribs of a victim when they really, really deserve it. Grand Sensei Death’s Hand has dedicated himself to education and peace during his imprisonment as well, penning gentle children’s books like Kill All Pirates, Pirates are the Assassins of Our Future, and Dear Children Reject Pirate Lies. Entertainers, politicians, and Nobel laureates have all called for his release, drawing on their vast experience in those honest and directly ninja-related fields.

I urge you, dear readers, to write to your government–secretly controlled and financed by pirates as it may be–to demand the release of Grand Sensei Death’s Hand. I urge you to take direct action as well, through protest and possibly making things explode. Blow up your own buses full of pirates. Join us in the great Shinobi liberation struggle by donating your time and talents. We ninjas are waiting for your help, silently, in the shadows, wearing black, with concealed daggers, and also perhaps some smoke bombs.

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“Fire!”

The road pirates’ vehicle had pulled alongside the fleeing Sani-Cola drink truck, let fly with another burst of fire, this time ripping apart one of the rig’s rear wheels. Stricken, it jackknifed a bit before one of Captain Higgs’ men cried out and pointed at the cab: the trucker had removed his off-white wifebeater and was waving it as a white flag.

True to the Jolly Roger they drove under, Higgs’ men let the driver go, giving him naught but a boot to the ass for the trouble he had caused in trying to run away. He then set a crew to work replacing the Sani-Cola truck’s tire so his men could drive it to a safe chop shop while their armed and armored Toyota Hilux did the same with a skeleton crew.

“A fine bounty boys, an excellent haul!” Even selling for pennies on the dollar, the Sani-Cola, Diet Sani-Cola, and Sani-Cola Xtreme filling the truck would net each of Higgs’ men a fine prize share. As was his right, the captain took the contents of the cab for himself, including two fine beaded seat covers, an ashtray full of change for toll roads, and highly addictive Trucker’s Choice brand pep pills worth a few bucks on the side.

The crew of road pirates had just about finished making their catch ready to drive when Captain Higgs’ first mate, who had been scanning the horizon, pointed and cried out. A Mitsubishi with neon lights was approaching at high speed, and through his spyglass Higgs could see several figures in black on its running boards.

“Damn! Road ninjas!” he hollered. “Battle stations, all of you!”

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This essay was contributed by our regular pirate affairs commentator, William “Black Bill” Cubbins IV and based on a speech he delivered at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the William Kidd Center for the Study of Pirate Culture at the University of Plunder Bay. In addition to his other pro-pirate activism, Black Bill Cubbins is currently serving as pirate-in-residence at UPB, and he remains a practicing pirate with three galleons and a Dutch party cruise boat to his name so far this year.

At one point in time, 37% of the world’s sailors earned their living through piracy. Today that number is less than 1% despite an explosion in the number of ships at sea and cargoes (and crews) that are more valuable than ever before. Yet the only sustained growth in piracy has been in Somalia and Malacca, both prime areas of pirate outsourcing. The plundering once done by Caribbean pirates, for instance, is now sent to cheap pirates off Somalia that work for pennies on the dollar and often do not enjoy the same benefits, like elected officers and relatively equal distribution of spoils, that pirates elsewhere fought and died for. I’m not criticizing our pirate brothers-in-arms, simply saying that our drive for cheaper plunder, globalized plunder, has negatively impacted both our livelihood and theirs.

The solution, my friends, is to make sure you source your plunder locally and sustainably. Be an informed consumer. Ask whether the precious gems in that overflowing trunk came from standards-compliant corsairs in the Caribbean or North Africa, ripped from the hold of a freighter belonging to Spain or the Holy League, or whether it is cheap outsourced plunder ripped from a Liberia-flagged bulk carrier off Singapore and processed in the illicit prize courts of Guangzhou. Don’t support businesses that rely on outsourced piracy to keep their coffers stuffed with argent; don’t support jewelers that trade in conflict doubloons.

Act globally but pirate locally. Support your local pirates by buying their plunder at local prize courts. Invest in sustainable sources of piracy like the Spanish Main or the Golden Triangle rather than the lucrative but unsustainable trade in looted North Korean freighters off Socotra. If you can, pirate a little yourself on the side. Not much; a frigate or two every now and again, or even a station wagon on the Mexico trade route, is enough to help keep the sacred connection that pirates have felt to their profession for many years. Many young pirates are choosing not to follow in the family business, preferring instead to move to the big city to try and pass as non-pirates. Our culture is in danger as never before, beset by this decay on one side and negative portrayals by media and biased ninja activists on the other.

Only through education and action can we stem this tide. So I urge you: find or found a local prize court or pirate co-op. Speak pirate to your children or support those who do. Support pirate studies programs at universities and organizations like the FPA, the Future Pirates of America. And most importantly of all, support your local pirates in whatever way you can.

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