Meanwhile, several nautical miles behind the Salty Mouth, the prow of the Shagghappy Sharon plunged rythmically in and out of the briny deep. Her skipper has been secretly commissioned by the admiralty to hunt down the crew of ladyboys and eradicate them, thus ridding the fleet, pride of Brittania, of impure seamen. The admiralty's appointment of Elzevere Black as captain had been unanimous: when asked to fill in the questionnaire, Captain Black had deftly stepped outside and felled the doorman with a left cross. He listed as his hobbies 'hurting' and 'shagging.' At the end of his left arm, just for effect, was a hook which he held in his hand which was tucked up his sleeve. "How is your first name spelled?" the clerk had asked. "Elzevere: B-A-S-T-A-R-D ... Elzevere." Onboard Sharon, two figures were silhouetted matt black against a bad moon rising. "Keep yer distance, Billy," gruffly spake the captain. "I feel in me bones a change in the weather. A storm is on the horizon." "Where be that, Cap'n?" "Where the sky loves the sea." "Where be that, Cap'n?" "At the world's edge, Billy." "Where be ..." "Over there, you dim fucker," roared the captain, pointing with his false appendage. "Black clouds and thunderbolts ... what are you, blind ... Pew, was that you?" "Oops." "Tis a storm a-brewin," said Black. "Have ye ever bin tossed on the high sea, Billy?" "No, Cap'n, but I bin blown ashore." The wind gets up and the captain whips out his spyglass and pulls it out to its full length. Far to the east the lights of a sleepy coastal town flicker through the blackness. The captain lowers his scope and smiles at Billy. "We'll put in for the duration, Billy." "Ooo, lovely." A ship is spotted off the port bow. Spotted ships are uncommon even now, but were rare indeed in those days. "There's a Frenchie a-followin' us Billy. I've a partik'ler dislike fer Frenchies." "I'd quite like one myself," sez Billy. "There may be trouble -- where's me buccanneers?" "They're on the sides o' yer buckin' 'ed, Cap'n." "Muster the lads, Billy." "Erm ..." "Get the fuckers up here." "Right, ahoy there, tally-ho." "You wasn't brought up on the sea was you, Billy?" "Actually no, sir. I fell off the quayside pissed about a week since. When I woke up I was aboard this ship two miles off St. Hild's at Hartlepool. I spent the first day blowing chunks, but now I'm getting more used to it." "When I wants yer life story Billy, we'll break out the accordion an' set it to music. Now, set the mains'el" "Erm ..." "Shite, just go an make some tea." Black struts up to the hatch and bellows below. "Haul it up here, Plunger me lad!" Plunger Plunkett appears on deck complete with red bandana and blue stripey shirt. "Aye, aye, Cap'n!" "Why you dressed like a puff?" "It's me pullin' gear Cap'n. I heard we was goin' ashore and foreign ladies do lust for me in this garb." "They must be fuckin' desperate, Plunger. What you hiding down there?" said the captain, again with the appendage pointing. "Nothing sir." "Ah, so that's where the nickname comes from ..." The ship lurches suddenly to the port side and the crew get excited, whirling their cutlasses and other sharp things in the air. They are upon the French ship before you can say "Alors, maintenent pour un spot de l'aggro!" "Swing 'er into the wind an' we'll ram 'er amidships!" shouts Black, and the boys brace for battle. "Tea everyone!" sez Billy, and the helmsman is hard put to swerve the ship to one side. "No sugar in mine," sez Plunkett. "Shall we disengage for tea, Cap,'n?" "Of course, no wait ... gunner Griswald, thump a couple of balls into her." "Ooo, lovely, that should make her scream." "He's very common that Griswald isn't he?" said Black. "I would have to consider him for promotion if you weren't all already Class-A wankers." "Soon fix that though, hey Cap'n?" "Ah, yes. Helmsman, tack about fifteen degrees to starboard." "Erm ..." "Turn right for fuck's sake. Oh, look. The Frenchies are sinking. Good. Time to reward ourselves with a night of horizontal refreshment I think."