“A change in the winds,” Captain Ron Duggan muttered under his breath.
He adjusted his course bearings and steadied his grip on the helm, for he knew what this strange shift foretold.
Years ago Captain Ron had piloted the fastest ship on the seven seas: The Gypsy Rose. But his mutinous crew had wrested the ship from him and forced him to walk the plank. He had clung to bits of driftwood and, after days on the open water, was picked up by a passing merchant ship. The Gypsy Rose had often been seen since, but only briefly; coastal towns would catch a glimpse of the ship and her Jolly Roger flag before being lambasted by her cannons, plundered, and left in smoking ruins. This reputation gained those scallywags the title of “The Gypsy Rose Shootout Crew.” But all was not well with the Shootout Crew. They daily suffered from a horrible fate, as a result of their mutiny.
Now the pilot of a much humbler vessel with his noble beauty Nicole as his only crew member, Captain Ron knew the true fate of The Gypsy Rose. When the old crew had mutinied, they cast themselves and the ship under a curse: they were eternal rogues – vagabonds – men without homes, and until they found a home, they could not enjoy food or drink or any other pleasure in life. The curse followed the crew wher’er they traveled, going ahead of them in the form of a strong easterly wind.
Now as this easterly breeze blew across his tiny ship’s bow, Captain Ron gritted his teeth, resolving to retake The Gypsy Rose and avenge the daft actions of his former crew.
He and Nicole sailed quietly, by cover of night, into a local port of call, where they commandeered a ship of Her Majesty’s Navy.
“We’re not stealin ‘er,” Ron whispered to Nicole. “We’re commandeerin’ – it’s a nautical term. And we’ll bring ‘er right back, in better shape than she was in before.”
They put in at a nearby island, which was known for harboring all sorts of pirates, adventure-seekers, and scallywags.
“Just the kind we’ll be needin’,” Captain Ron growled.
At the local tavern, he quickly assembled a crew of rough-looking seamen, promising them a share in the booty when they accomplished their goal. But did not mention the capture of The Gypsy Rose, knowing not even the greatest fool would sign up for such a mission.
...
A giant wave crashed over the bow, and salty spray covered the crew. They had been at sea for two weeks. Their provisions were beginning to run low, and their captain had kept mum about the end destination of this journey. Malcontent was beginning to set in.
Then one night, the cook overheard the captain and Nicole talking in low voices, and he ascertained their intent.
“Aye, we’re doomed!” the cook exclaimed to the crew. “Every last one of us will end up in Davy Jones’ Locker before this voyage is up!”
They all agreed, and resolved to take the helm by force, steer the ship back home, sell it, and split the profits.
“That’s the second time I’ll watch my crew sail away with my ship,” Ron mused as he and Nicole stepped to the edge of the plank. But this mutinous crew was kinder than his last; they marooned the pair on a remote, uninhabited island.
...
“We may as well get comfy,” Nicole said as they clambered onto the sandy beach.
And at that moment, Ron noticed a line of crates along the shore
“Grub!” he exclaimed, and the two began rummaging through the containers.
“Rum!” Nicole shouted, moments later.
“Aye, ye spoke truly,” Ron mused. “We may as well get comfy.”
“Not before ye make an honest woman out of me,” Nicole protested.
And so, with the sun setting on the shimmering horizon, the two became Captain and Missus Ron Duggan. And they celebrated the nuptials with rum.
...
The next day, Nicole awoke to the sound of her new husband constructing a raft. “We’ll o’ertake those scurvied sons of biscuit eaters!” he shouted. And by noon, the two were out to sea, atop a flotilla of empty rum bottles (and there were more than a few, after their raucous wedding celebration) and palm fronds, and a sail made of most of Ron’s clothes.
“Aye, with the breeze at our backs, and me buccaneer’s spirit, we’ll have our ship back by sundown!” Captain Ron cried.
Indeed, just after sunset, they glided up toward their old ship, which had become hung up on some shoals. The crew was fighting amongst themselves, and cutlasses were flashing about. Ron and Nicole shimmied up a rope on the ship’s stern.
“Avast, ye!” Captain Ron shouted into the mayhem.
Recognizing the voice of their old captain, the crew froze, and turned to face him, in disbelief.
“That’s got to be the best pirate I’ve ever seen,” whispered one of the mutinous scallywags.
“Now, ye scurvy dogs,” Captain Ron continued, pointing at the crew with a cutlass in his hand. “Ye can join me in my quest to reclaim The Gypsy Rose, or I can cleave ye to the brisket – down to the last of ye!”
The crew members, only half believing their eyes, dropped their weapons.
“Well then, weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen!” he shouted.
Moments later, Captain Ron and his crew were at sea, headed into the shifting winds. First, he piloted them back to the island where they had marooned him and Nicole, and they set up a new home port. They built a bar and grill, where they served the signature Rum Runner drinks Ron and Nicole had invented the night of their wedding. Lovestruck couples, inspired by Captain Ron and Nicole’s story, came to pledge their vows on the beach.
The place became known as Buccaneer Bay. Before that, the island could scarcely be found except by those who already knew where it was. But Captain Ron put it on the map: at Mile Marker 34.5 for seaworthy folk, or Lake Road 5-50 for landlubbers.
...
But all was not well for Captain Ron. He still missed his old ship, The Gypsy Rose, and the Shootout Crew was still roaming the seas, pillaging and plundering as it went.
So Ron mustered his crew for one final voyage. Following the changing winds, Captain Ron and his now-devoted crew deftly navigated the waters, and soon came upon The Gypsy Rose.
As the two ships lined up within cannon range, Ron called out, “Parlay!”
The Shootout Crew, ever honoring the pirate’s code, took Ron aboard, where he offered them a bargain.
“Turn over me ship and all her booty, and I’ll let ye come home to me island. Yer curse will be broken,” he growled.
Exhausted from years of wandering, and miserable from the inability to appreciate food or drink or treasure, the crew acquiesced, and relinquished the helm of The Gypsy Rose.
On the way home, Captain Ron put his crew to work scouring the ship he had formerly commandeered. They patched and painted its hull, and gave it a fresh coat of tar. Then they left it right where they had found it, with a thank-you note, and a nice chest of gold doubloons, to cover the rental cost.
The queen was so pleased with Captain Ron’s courage and generosity, she personally visited Captain Ron’s Bar and Grill to honor the inaugural boat race he and his crew dubbed “The Shootout.”
...
Since then, Captain Ron has become an Old Salt, and he and Nicole can be found at Buccaneer Bay telling the tales of their high seas adventures to eager crowds, or smiling with remembrance at a youthful couple saying their vows on the beach.
The Gypsy Rose is now a training ship for young, aspiring buccaneers, often introducing them to the world of adventures they have in store.
And The Shootout has grown into a globally acclaimed event, bringing sailors from far and wide to race in what was at one time the most unlikely place.
