I, Gentry Puffinfeather—rightful Heir to Puffinfeather & Sons, local Businessman of some Repute, & (through sheer Accident!) sometime Pirate Captain, who finds himself now confined to a damp Cell by ill Luck & the jealous Intentions of some Men—do appeal to the eminent Goodness of your Honour (the Governor), in righteous Hope that you may ascertain the Rectitude of my Actions, & judge me as I truly deserve.
Of one Crime I do confess: that I was born my Father’s Son—for on the fatal Day when “& Sons” first followed “Puffinfeather” was my Destiny fixed. My Father, John Puffinfeather, was (rest his Soul) a Man of great Tenacity, & having built by Hand a sturdy Ship, he sought a Fortune in Exports, & found it—& having risen to Wealth & Privilege, he solemnized his Position with a Family. My Father worked quickly, & after a speedy Courtship, conceived a Son (your Honour’s humble Petitioner!) who would caretake the Puffinfeather Empire, & someday take his Place as Emperor.
It was my Father’s chiefest Hope, I believe, to fulfill the Ambition on the Sign which overhung the Puffinfeather Office—namely, to fill the Business with Sons (plural) at every Level, be they Clerks, or Shipwrights, or Captains, or any Position else—however, having engendered but One, & being wholly unable to repeat the Feat, & finding therefore his Ledgers awash with red Ink by the Payment of Labourers, my Father took up with a Cohort of wealthy Gentlemen, so-called “Adventurers,” who assumed his Debts in exchange for a Share in my Birthright. So it was that the Burden of my Father’s Hope for another of Himself—which, by Right, should have been apportioned fairly across a Band of Brothers—fell only upon me.
I must digress for a Time to prevail your Honour with a Thought, one which must illumine the murky Question of my Guilt to any Christian Man outfitted with the tender Bowels of Pity & Compassion: that had my Father never been favoured with a Son, or had (as was his fervent Wish) he been favoured with a great Profusion of them, your Honour’s humble Petitioner would not now be doom’d to dreadful Execution. As a young Man, I was trained in the Way I should go—my Father’s Way & that of no Way else—& cannot now deviate from my Nature. If your Honour demands Justice, then pronounce my Father’s Guilt & hang his Body twice-dead; or condemn my Mother, who did fructify but once; or blame Almighty Providence for my singular Birth (though surely you have not a thick enough Rope for this last)—but look upon me with Christian Charity!
As Heir apparent, my Father compelled me to acquaint myself with the Export Business in every Capacity—indeed, to try on each Office like so many Pairs of Breeches—that I might envisage what would be mine upon his Death, & apply myself meanwhile toward some useful End. However, having too keen a Mind for the repeated Mundanities of Mathematics, as would not befit a Clerk; & having perpetrated many grievous Injuries against my poor Thumb (arthritic to this Day!) in the service of Shipbuilding; & being forbidden from the open Sea, away from my Father’s dominating Eye; I was preferred to a high-ranking Position, one where my considerable Talents would be far removed from the Everyday. I was put up in an Office adjacent to that of my Father & was there employed from Morn to Night in deep intellectual Labours. There I forewent all menial & distracting Tasks, & engaged wholly in the Calculation of Strategies—& though none ever consulted with me save my Father (& then but sparingly), he oft assured me that this Position suited me best.
I have some Cause to doubt his Veracity on this Point, which I will here relay: that though my Father called me his Font of Inspiration, no Idea of mine was (to my Knowledge) ever effectuated. Condemned as I am to lamentable Hanging for the High Crime of Piracy, I am put to Mind of my greatest Idea, one which was begat by a chance Reading of A General History of the Pyrates. (A Note: If your Honour hardens your Heart against the Truth of my Account & by the End still considers me Pirate, you may just as rightly summon Captain Charles Johnson from across the Sea & Execute him in my Stead for the High Crime of permeating his History with such beguiling Romance, against which any Christian Man would be similarly powerless.)
Given your Honour’s Zeal for the Prosecution of Pirates, you are doubtless familiar with their black & bloody Flag: the one which they call Jolly Roger. Learning of it, & having suffered the previous Day a startling yet benign Snakebite, I was possessed of a Thought: that just as God in his Providence arrays some harmless Snakes in the Colours of their morbific Cousins, so too could the Ships of Puffinfeather & Sons sail under this dread Ensign & exempt themselves thereby from piratical Disturbance. Being wholly enamoured of this Notion & having on Hand a great Number of Morning Gowns (a Gentleman must be comfortable to fully exercise the Faculties of his Mind, yet without sacrificing a certain Sense of Fashion!), I set presently to Work, & after a Day of Labour, had tailored a passing Imitation of a Pirate’s Device: a white Skeleton, with a Dart in one Hand striking a bleeding Heart, & in the Other, an Hour-Glass.
This finished, I presented the Strategy to my Father, aiding his Understanding with my fearsome Handiwork; whereupon he, with downcast & doleful Eyes, bade me quit the Room—whereupon he wept & beat his Breast & cursed his own fickle Loins that would give him but one Son, & he with a Head wholly untenanted by Common Sense!—& though I was remanded to my own Office, the thin Walls did not protect my Ears (& Heart).
So it was that my Father was deaf to my Proposals—a Statement which grew more literal with each passing Year—& as he grew older, his Creditors (those selfsame Adventurers to whom I have previously made Allusion) entreated my Father to divest himself of my Assistance, estimating me, at best, a useless Do-Nothing, & at worst, a Danger to their Investments. This my Father would not do, for to him I was more than Son: I was the only Glue which would affix his Name to his Legacy—& so my Father guarded me against the seething Adventurers until rendered incapable by his long-awaited (though sorrowful!) Death.
Shortly thereafter, I crossed the Threshold of my Father’s Office—my Coat black with Mourning, but my Face radiant with the Expectation of imminent Anointment—but having taken this one portentous Step, I found the Room altogether preoccupied by my Father’s Adventurers! I demanded forthright what Business they had in my Office, whereupon these usurping Usurers made swift Rejoinder: “What Business have you in our Office?” Their Response made, one of them read aloud from a Contract, & proved by Way of sundry & arcane Clauses—which no Man of Righteousness could ever be prevailed upon to understand, but accorded wholly with every Law (save the Law of God!)—that I had no legal Portion in Puffinfeather & Sons, that the Company was theirs in Entirety, & that I would be dismissed forthwith. Lacking the Constitution for lawyerly Discourse, I could only retreat in Shame from their cringing Smiles—my Birthright wholly pirated away.
Again, I interrupt my History to forewarn your Honour that this next Chapter is comprehensible only to those few Men with a Genius for the advanced Calculation of Christian Virtue—for if you find me guilty hereafter of any small Trespass, know only that it was done in the Pursuit of divine Justice! In your further Reading, I implore your Honour to reflect upon this one Question: Was Jacob, Son of Isaac, hanged for Piracy for coming into his Birthright—though he did so through cunning Duplicity—or was he blessed beyond Measure? Assured that a Man of your Station & renowned Integrity must have studied the Word of God (though I have met one Lord Chief Justice & twelve of the King’s sovereign Jurors who have not), I will resume my Account with Confidence.
Cast off by my Father’s Adventurers & wholly alone in the World, I had but one Recourse: to take that piratical Flag which had once so dispirited my Father & put it to counterpiratical Use, to plunder those Ships which had been plundered from me—in Summary, to appoint myself as irresistible Middleman to the mercantile Dealings of Puffinfeather & Sons. I wasted no Time—having some small Fortune remaining from my fortunate Days, I procured a modest Sloop for my Undertaking (the Cyan Scion, aptly named for the Rightness of my Claim & the Despondency of my Soul) & set to outfit her with stalwart Sailormen.
My Search met an End only a brief Stroll from the Shipyard (this exceeding Swiftness I may attribute only to heavenly Approval of my intended Course)—coming upon a ruinous & crumbling Tavern, & estimating it an unparalleled Nursery for the piratical Temperament, I made Entry & found it filled entirely by disemployed Seamen; gathered to sing certain maudlin Songs of the Sea (their rough & drunken Voices erring in equal Measure to either Side of the Tune, & equating nearly to Harmony); & to invest their final Wages together in Grog, Beer, & Tobacco. The whole sordid Tale I got from their once Captain, eloquent with Drink: that they were a Crew of the Provincial Militia, unshipped at the Conclusion of some small Conflict; turned adrift to steal or starve, but without the Means to steal! This sorrowful Account struck near my Heart, & without Hesitation I offered every Man a Glass of Whiskey & Employment aboard the Cyan Scion, with their one-time Captain as Quarter-Master—whereon the whole Company cheered, & hailed me a Hero, & raised a Health to the pirating Life (though in Truth I proposed no such Enterprise)—& so we spent the Evening in high Spirits, until my remaining Wealth was wholly spent.
On the open Sea, the Affections of my Crew were not so easily secured. Appointing to my Quarter-Master those mundane Tasks of Navigation & Seamanship, I withdrew to my Cabin & resumed my former lofty Occupation: meditating on the Nature of the Export Business in Pursuit of novel Stratagems (though I spent as much Time musing on the Scene of my Dispossession at the Hands of the Adventurers, & devising Ripostes of cutting Wit such that would have withered their Smiles wholly away). At my Behest, the Cyan Scion never strayed far from the Harbour, but sailed Northward & Southward in distant Blockade; & though we espied a great Number of tall Ships, laden with rich Merchant Goods which my Crew would fain have plundered, this I could not allow—for Thieves shall not inherit the Kingdom of God. This gave Occasion to certain Grumblings & Whispers among my impious Crew, which grew near-mutinous after a dull Month of gradual Disprovisionment—& so I was much relieved when at long last a Puffinfeather Vessel hove into Sight.
For our first Engagement, the Crew required captainly Guidance—hastily donning a Coat over my Morning Gown, I replaced the Quarter-Master on the Quarter-Deck & bade him hoist the black Flag, hoping thereby to break the Enemy’s Courage. The Vessel turned instead to give us Broadside, & remarking the Plenitude of her Gunports, my nautical Studies deserted me wholly; & I was forced therefore to give my further Orders without the Niceties of proper Understanding (such is the Burden of Captaincy). Casting about for any Vocabulary that might fit a Captain’s Mouth, I commanded all Hands to “hem the Banyan” & to “inweave the Gusset”—phrases which sounded sailorly to my Ear, but upon Reflection would have been coherent only to my Tailor—& in the Grip of Confusion & Disorder, a Thunder of Cannonballs stove us in. Shoving me bodily to the Deck, the Quarter-Master retook Command & snatched Defeat from the Jaws of utter Ruination—& when I arose, I found that I was Captain no more.
Having escaped, the faithless Rogues discussed my Disposal, & soon resolved to appoint me as lifelong Governor to some desolate Sandbar—whereupon I heartily beseeched them to reconsider, calling to their Minds the cruel Unshipment from which I had been their Rescuer. Laughing at my earnest Entreaties, my one-time Quarter-Master proposed an alternative Method of Deposition—& after a Vote I was set adrift in a small Skiff, along with my handcrafted Flag & a small Pile of Morning Gowns, to resume my Adventure as a Crew of One. (Another Note: Though I would not have been afforded this Mercy had these piratical Turncoats not found some Humour in the Irony of my Circumstances, I am comforted by the Knowledge that your Honour must have at least the Mercy of a Pirate.) Though preferable to certain Death, this was a problematical Fate, for as the Cyan Scion limped over the distant Horizon, I found that I had no Way to steer; & so I bobbed for Hours until the Wind pushed me into a Ship of the Line, whereupon I was rescued—& arrested.
So ends the sorrowful Tale of Gentry Puffinfeather—a Man ill-treated by everyone, who only sought to take what was his. Of all Crimes I am guiltless, but if your Honour espies the tiniest Stain of Guilt upon my Soul, know that it was irresistibly stamped thereon by cruel Circumstances & the ceaseless Toil of countless Adversaries. If your Honour intends to resign me hereafter to imminent Death, I urge you to bury me at Sea; for if my Execution is followed (as Justice dictates) by those of my unnumbered & more-guilty Accomplices, there will not be enough Earth in this Province to inter us all.
But I do not wish to burden your Honour with the Prosecution of the entire wicked World, so instead I must entreat you to have Compassion on the Soul of:
Your Honour’s most humble Petitioner,
Gentry Puffinfeather