There has never been a pirate in the history books called Kevin. Nor has there been a Derek, a Benedict or an Archibald.
But there has been a pirate who began his life by the name Gruel. In fact, he became the greatest pirate to ever sailed the eleven seas (two of which he discovered). Captain Trident was his name and this is his story.
Abandoned on the doorstep of a tavern when he was a baby, Gruel spent his whole childhood sweeping the floor and scrubbing the toilets and serving the drunkards at the Black Flagon in Timbuktu. The pay was two pence a week working fourteen hours a day with one Sunday a month off. The boy did not mind. Gruel knew he was destined for something more, that adventure will find him and, when it did, he would grab it with both hands.
There was an old drunk who lived at the Black Flagon. Pegleg Pete, they called him.
Every evening he would tell stories about his adventures on the open seas, of treasure and sword fights and sea monsters and far-away lands. Gruel’s favourite story was the one about how he lost his leg to the Kraken, and that was just his wooden leg. The story about how he lost his real leg was also very good, but it changed each time it was told. He told a different story every night to different strangers and Gruel wanted to believe them all.
On 29th December 1695, on the stroke of midnight, Pegleg Pete died and Gruel’s adventures began.
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