1670: The Three Tunns Tavern, Port Royal Jamaica.
“QUIET! You Blaggards!”
The hard vowels of Sir Henry Morgan’s Cardiff accent did not so much cut through the drunken babble of the assembled pirates, as hack through it with a rasping, but none too sharp, blade. But it did catch the attention.
“Now listen up… this be the plan.”
“As ye all know it’s not been good pickin’s for the Brethren o’ late. Victims o’ our own success I say we is. We been so successful with our depredations that now the Dons are reinforcing the Armada de la Guardia de la Carrera de las Indias, bringing in ships from as far away as Acapulco an’ Flanders I reckons. There be no way we can take the main silver fleet on, not with our small, light vessels up agin them mighty galleons. No way. But, me hearties, there be a way…”