It was a dark and windy Halloween night, just about the time when curfew was chasing all’s the little kids back inside when my doorbell rang. I’d already put away the candy bowl as it had been a half hour since the last kiddo appeared with his hand out. I’d just settled down in front of the television to watch Barney Miller, but got up when it became apparent Edith wasn’t going to answer the door. Jeesh!
On the other side of our door was a tall man dressed like a pirate, very elaborate, like. See here, he really could have been a pirate, I thought to myself. His black beard was tied in pigtails and his filthy colonial topcoat smelled to high heaven. Then it occurred to me, ‘a trick-or-treater has a beard. No way!
Me: “What da hell you want.”
The pirate lookalike peered at me through his rounded spectacles with an expression of shock on his dirty face.
Pirate: “My dear sir…” he began in a voice sounded like he was from England. “Is this not the night of Halloween, when children knock on your door yelling trick-or-treat?”
Me: I nodded at him, not wanting to hear this story. “Yeah, I suppose it is, but the curfew for trick-or-treating is over, so scram!”
Pirate: “You would turn me away for being just…” he took out a gold pocket watch that looked old and pricey, you see, “for being just two minutes past?”
Me: “No, because you’re not a kid, Jack.”
I started to close the door and he stuck his boot in to keep it open.
Pirate, bowing: “Ah, I see you already know my name, saving me a rather lengthy introduction.”
His three-cornered hat fell on the floor when he bowed, exposing his long dirty hippy-like hair.
Me, in what must have been my best English usage: “Huh.”
Pirate, picking up his hat: “Yes, it’s me, Jack. Jack Sparrow is my full name, sir.”
Me: “You don’t look like no &*@*^# Johnny Depp, so why don’t you…”
Wife, who was running to the door to join our conversation, smiling sweetly just like a wife does when about to correct her husband: “Archie, let the poor man in and see what he wants.”
Me: “Edith, you dingbat, he’s a grown man pretendin’ to be a pirate.” I slammed the door in his face and headed back to the kitchen to get a beer. “Stifle yourself. It’s bad enough I gots to get my own beer…”
Edith, shrieking: “Archie, you can’t do that to somebody.”
With that she opened the door. Jack the pirate was still standing there, his hat flattened in front where the door caught it. He doffed the hat for Edith, bowing as he did so.
Jack: “Thank you my kind lady. May I?”
Edith: “Sure, sure come on in.”
I winced when I heard this and turned around to see him again. She had grabbed his arm to help him in. Would you believe that dingbat led him right to my chair. I turned around disgustedly and went into the kitchen to fetch my beer.
As I returned to the living room with my beer I noticed Edith and Jack were having a conversation. I stood next to my chair looking at the pirate. He and Edith ignored me.
Me, bellowing: “Get the hell outa my chair.”
Jack jumped up and sat on the davenport next to Edith.
Edith: “You want a beer, Mr. Jack?”
Me; “No, Edith, he don’t want no beer. Don’t encourage him, jeez.”
I began to watch television while keeping one ear on the conversation between Edith and Jack, who was pumping Edith up with a bunch of phony pirate baloney. I’ll tell ya what I heard.
Jack: “Edith, perhaps the most famous pirate was Edward Teach.”
Edith: “Who?”
Jack: “Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard. Us pirates called him Thatch. But, Mrs. Bunker, even though everyone has heard of Blackbeard, he wasn’t the most successful of the pirates and his so-called reign of terror lasted just over a year. He was just taller than most people of the day and sported long hair and a thick black beard he tied into pigtails.
Edith: “Oh my. Like yours?”
Jack: “Just like mine, but his was longer. It was his enormous features and outrageous acts that separated him from most pirates. Blackbeard was a privateer during Queen Anne’s War, working as second in command for the notorious pirate Benjamin Hornigold, on the ship, Ranger. As a…”
Edith: “Oh my, a pirate tear. I didn’t know pirates cried.”
Jack, smiling and looking at me: “A privateer is allowed by the royal families to legally carry out acts of war against other ships. Anyway, when the war ended in 1713, the step from privateer to pirate was inevitable, not just for Thatch, but for about a thousand others. When
Hornigold retired, Thatch took over.
Ironically, Mrs. Bunker, Hornigold was pardoned by the governor of the Bahamas, and then became a pirate hunter, chasing his own brethren until being killed in a hurricane. Most of us pirates thought he had it coming.
Thatch’s first act was to capture the French slaving ship La Concorde. It was quite a prize that La Concorde, big as a Royal Navy frigate. Thatch decided to equip the ship with 40 cannons, taking it as his own, then renamed it Queen Anne’s Revenge. That must have upset the old gal.”
Jack slapped his knee with that remark. I looked at Edith who was doing her best to keep up with the pirate.
Jack: “Then he captured Hornigold’s Ranger ship to add to his fleet. With his many large ships and intimidating appearance, Thatch became the most feared and well-known pirate in the Caribbean.
Edith: “Oh my.” She had her hand up to her mouth know.
Jack, trying to continue: “Would you believe in 1718 Blackbeard audaciously blockaded the port of Charleston SC. He sat there for several days, robbing nine ships going in or out of the harbor. In need of medical supplies for his crew, he then kidnapped the crew of the ship Crowley and demanded the South Carolina government give him what he needed. They eventually met his demands so he returned the hostages, sans their valuables and in some cases, their clothes.
Then in June of 1718 the Queen Anne’s Revenge ran aground, causing Thatch to maroon his crew. He traveled up to Bath Town North Carolina and accepted a royal pardon from Governor Charles Eden. He even married the daughter of a plantation owner while he was there and everybody thought he had settled down.
Well, he hadn’t. He set up an operation on Ocracoke Island to plunder passing merchant ships. This was irksome to Virginia Governor Alexander Spotwood, who vowed to bring Thatch to justice. Spotwood sent Lieutenant Robert Maynard after Thatch. The big oaf was killed and beheaded in the battle in 1718. Oddly, there are no accounts that Blackbeard himself ever harmed or murdered anyone.
Edith, still with hand at her mouth: “Oh my!”
Jack continued: “The most successful of all the pirates though was a Chinese woman by the name of Cheng I Sao. In her fleet, she commanded more ships and more pirates than all the pirates in history combined. That gal plundered everything that moved in the south China Sea from 1800 to 1810. At one point, the former hooker commanded over 1,500 ships and 180,000 pirates. Then she retired, walked away unpunished and died of old age in 1844.”
Edith: “Oh my, a woman pirate. Archie did you hear that, a woman pirate?”
Me: “Yes, Edith. We’re in the same room, ya know.”
Jack: “Going back to Blackbeard though, his ledger stated his wealth was worth about $12.5 million in today’s money, which is comparatively low for pirates. It would have been more had he been successful after attacking the ship called the Royal Fortune. Turns out Black Bart had taken everything from it the week before.”
Jack laughed and slapped his knee at this. Edith looked on dumbfounded.
Jack, continuing: “O’ Thatch stated in that same ledger that his real treasure lay in a location known only to him and the devil. He may have been correct as 300 years later, he’s dead and Beelzebub lives up in Martha’s Vineyard. Nobody has found Thatch’s treasure. We pirates didn’t usually bury treasure, it’s mostly a myth. Only one I ever knew about was Thomas Tew, the ‘Rhode Island Pirate.’ His loot is valued at $102 million but he was killed in the battle at the Mandab Strait.”
Edith: “Oh my. What about those rum bottles I see with Captain Morgan’s picture on them?
Jack: “Yes, my dear Edith, there really was a Captain Henry Morgan, the same name you see on those rum bottles. When that rascal retired from being a pirate, would you believe he took on the career of a different pirate, becoming the Lieutenant Governor of Jamaica.
Me, muttering and slyly smiling: “Probably a Democrat.”
Edith: “What about all those kids running around with a plastic hook on the end of one hand saying they are Dr. Hook?”
Me: “Edith you dingbat, it’s Captain Hook. Go on, Jack, tell her.
Jack: My dear, Edith. Captain Hook is a cartoon character from Peter Pan. A cartoon character can’t bring one any harm so don’t fear. Give the lad a handful of candy, warn him not to scratch his eye, and send him on his way.
Most of the trick-or-treaters you see emulate me, Captain Jack Sparrow of the Pirates of the Caribbean films.” He doffed his hat at Edith again before continuing. Jack: “Would you believe my character was modeled by using a combination of Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones and the Looney Tunes character, Pepe Le Pew? I kind of look like Keith, don’t I?”
Edith: “Who?”
I slapped my forehead when she said that.
A while later, after I had thrown Jack out the door with an apple, my little girl, Gloria, and her husband, Meathead came home. Edith relayed to them the encounter with Jack. The Meathead listened intently, taking in every word Edith had to say. When she was done, the Meathead took that as a sign to impart all of his wisdom about Halloween. Once again, I watched my television but kept one ear out to see what Meathead had to say.
Meathead: “Ma, Halloween is one of the oldest traditions in the world. It deals with the relationship between the living and the dead.”
Edith, hand back at her mouth: “Oh, my.”
Meathead continued: “It evolved from ancient rituals marking the transition from summer to winter. Later, it became a ritual observance on what happens to people when they die. Countries around the world celebrate Halloween. The tradition is most popular in Canada and America now. The holiday is commercially lucrative, second only to Christmas.”
Edith: “co-mer-ci-ally luc-rat-ive. What’s that mean, Mike?”
Meathead, laughing: “Ma, that means manufacturers make lots of money off Halloween.”
Edith: “Ohhhh. Archie…”
I put my hand up immediately, which in our marriage meant that she should stifle herself. She did, so the Meathead went on.
Meathead: “Ma, the Halloween tradition goes back thousands of years to the Celts over in Ireland. They called it Samhain, which means summers end and the coming of winter. The Celts believed the worlds between the living and the dead were thinnest at this time, which allowed the dead to return and walk where they had before. When they celebrated Samhain, they stocked up supplies for the winter, slaughtered their cattle and threw the bones in bone fires, later known as bonfires. On All Hallows Eve, communities gathered to feast and drink, expecting the dead to join them. Other spirits might show up as well, such as elves, fairies, wee folks, sprites, and even dark energies. To deceive these spirits, people darkened their faces with the ashes from the bonfires to “guise” themselves. Later they developed masks. Samhain was eventually Christianized, All Hallow’s Eve, a night of vigil, prayer, and fasting in preparation for when saints were honored. By the 16th century people were practicing ‘souling’ where the poor in town would knock on doors asking for a soul cake in return for prayers.”
At this point, I looked over at Edith, who looked totally lost. Her face seemed to be frozen in a scowl.
Meathead was on a roll though and went on.
Meathead: “They think this came from the belief of purgatory where a soul stayed in torment unless raised by prayer and money paid to the church. Then in the 1600’s a group of Catholics tried to assassinate the protestant King James 1 of Britain. The attempt failed and a man named Guy Fawkes was caught trying to blow up the House of Lords. Guy Fawkes Day on November 5th was established marking a day for anti-Catholic sermons and sometimes theft of property in Catholic homes and businesses. On Guy Fawkes night, bonfires and fireworks were set off. Kids and the poor would go house to house wearing masks and pushing a dummy of Guy Fawkes in a wheelbarrow. They’d beg for money or treats – or threaten destruction if refused.”
Edith: “That’s a nice story, Mike. You want a ham sandwich?”
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