I was sitting in a tavern, enjoying me'grog and the company of some other fine gents of the sea. All of a sudden, the tavern door flew open revealing a large silhouette. There he stood for a moment, surveying the room, only the white of his eyes visible. As he stepped through the threshold and into the light I shuddered. His hair was long, black and matted, his eyes as dark as sin. He was humming a lively tune but coming from him, sounded sardonic and mocking.
             Slowly he made his way to me'table. He stared at the sunburned man across from me.
             "Jack," he said gravely.
             "Thomas," the latter replied.
             The swarthy stranger then pulled out a pistol and shot me'companion straight in the chest, dispatching him instantly. I jumped out of me'seat and glared at him.
              "To Hell! Why'd ye do that!?" said I with reproach. He picked up the dead man's bottle and took a swig.
              "He stole me'rum last night," he replied with a toothless smile. He then turned on his heel, humming, and left the tavern and me in silence.
               It was an ordinary night in Tortuga.

All was calm
          One fateful morning
When the horizon seemed clear
           But the sky grew red in warning
Of wind
          And rain
                  And Nature's wrath
Bound to head
           A Hell bent path

While off the coast
          Of Port-de-Paix
Sailed an English vessel
           In disarray
Broken
           And battered
                    By pyrates and rogues
No man ‘board was ready
            To be thrown in death's throes

For all that day
           And half a night
Poseidon's horses galloped
            With all their might
Tempest
           And swells
                   And Neptune's spear
Fate took out her fury 
           No end seemed near

"Secure the topsails!"
           The Captain did weep
As he watched another sailor
           Fall to the Deep
Screams
           And groans
                   And eyes full of fear
Filled the soul of the ship
            ‘Till the storm clouds all cleared

Faith!
How cruel
       Providence can be
To cross such spirits 
       Upon the high seas