"Pudgeboy over here decided to run away from the infamous captain John Ill, I guess our bosun ought to teach 'im a lesson. 40 Lashes before the mast!" the captain of the decrepit  ship Floating Broccoli yelled to his badly shaven and bathed crew.
I responded, "John Ill, I..."
"Captain John Ill to you, Pudge boy."
"Captain John Ill, I do believe that the Holy Bible states that one shall not receive more than 39 lashes at the mast."
"That's a book, right? We don't read books on this ship. To the brig! Obviously you need a punishment worse  than lashes. You must drink three pints of  bilge!"
I am incredibly partial to taste, saying that I have tasted many things, including bilge, to find that bilge does not taste good. I had to find a way out and fast.I dug in my pockets for something to help me. A small bird, a paper clip, and a bag of pepper that I carry around was all I could find. Oh shnickka, I thought.

  Oh no! I thought, being dragged away by a burly, very smelly man to man a horrible, decrepit ship by the name of The Floating Broccoli. Looking back, I can't fathom why I didn't fight back. Perhaps it was fear of the competitor I was supposed to face, a distant relative of Talderoy, given the title "Glacier". Well, before I could regain conciousness, I was there. Taking just one step on the darned vessel, my foot sank. Turns out, they took really bad care of the ship, to point of an infamous case of deck-rot. But I had other problems to face. The crew looked incredibly hostile, one even chewing on what I could only hope was a rat's carcass.

"What you looking at, Fishbelly?" said the rat man. "Perhaps you would be able to get that horrible little expression of your face, Newbie. Now swab the deck!"  it bellowed. Taking no more notice, I made a horrible decision. I punched the  man a well blow in the gut and made a run for it. Rushing, I pushed aside several boozing crewmates and charged. I almost got to the board, too, except a large group of  rogues boarding at the moment pointed thirteen pistols at my face.

 "Did you really think you could get away that easily from this boat? I guess we'll have to knock some sense into this recruit, huh?" asked a man taller than the rest, probably designated as a leader.

"Yeah!" bellowed back the crew.

After 64 easily-beaten corsairs, cutthroats, bucaneers, privateers, and sailors, it was the finals. But first, me and my opponent, some person by the name of Bartimaeus the Glacier, who stood at an unbelievable 12', weighing in at one thousand thirty eight pounds, being known to actually rip apart entire galleon ships with his bare hands, thought to be the famous Talderoy's Northern Uncle's Cousin's Nephew's Brother once removed, had to find some form of lodging...     

In the inn known as the Candy Cannon, I was having my usual toast of one quart of root beer, pint of ginger ale, and shot of maple syrup, as I poured the last of my soda into me mouth, I bit a metal object what turned out to be the King's Coin! Then, behind me, a burly man of 32 gagged me and said, "Welcome te de crew,Pudgeboy. You're now an official member of the Floating Broccoli." I had just been press-ganged!

The next five contestants went like a breeze. But the next contestant, Yellowbeard, was something to behold. Standing at what seemed to be five and a half feet tall, and with fists that could crush coconuts, the Beard was rather intimidating. And what's more, he didn't choose a weapon. No, he was using his bare fists! I chose the whip, assesing that  if I selected a sword, he and his reflexes would catch it, and I would lose. The fight was tough, but by tickling and quick whip cracks, I won!

Today was the day. The day in which I would attempt to win the duels, and earn enogh money to sail away on me own ship. And before I knew it, I was there. The rules were relatively simple. You choose between a claymore, a rapier, a cutlass, a bullhide whip, and... a gigantic glob of blue flavored gelatin. Then, the first person who  surrenders, is disarmed, or is beheaded (how gruesome) loses. It continues simularly to a tournament in which the last person standing is the winner. The first person I faced off against was a small, dirty, little man who called himself Billy the Unready. I could see how he got that name. He chose the claymore, which he could barely hold, let alone lift. I, for reasons uncertain, chose the glob of gelatin. As he attempted to lift up the sword, I struck with the gelatin. He, being of obviously horrible hand-eye coordination, believed he was drowning, and yelled, "I surrender! Get me out of this dreadful ocean gubglub!" So thus, I won the first match with no casualties on either side.

  No.  I had a rough time before I joined Caninncali's crew. Here are things before I signed up for roaming the seas looking for candy galleons to raid.

  Here I was, just a normal, penniless street urchin with nothing to lose, stealing food  from people who I deemed "unworthy'' of what they ate. You know, lawyers, tax collecters, basically, lawmen who do not earn a happy, honest living. Well, then my life changed when there was the town duels. Every year, the town would hold a "contest" to see who was fit to crew the Topaz Gate, the finest ship in all of Port Butterscotch. Of course, the reward in money was a goodly sum o' 50,000 golden girsen, (Port Butterscotch's currency) about enough to buy a ship. Of course, it was enough  to convince me to join the competetion. But the competetion was tomorrow. I would have to wait. As I went to sleep on my oversized rice bag, dreams about what I would do with the reward fluttered through me head. I was uncertain, so I threw me fate to the wind. I would see what would happen.