DAYLIGHT ROBBERY?
Building a utopia from the gristle-strewn mayhem of a society founded entirely on violent crime is no mean feat, but the Pirate’s Code proves it can be done. Just don’t make the mistake of thinking the crime has stopped – it’s just been rationalised. So while you’ll definitely be robbed during your time on Spume, you can avoid a lot of pain by knowing how it works:
Always carry two coin bags – one obvious and ostentatious, containing exactly 17 per cent of your monthly salary, and one auxiliary, containing the rest of your cash, as well as Exemption Form 23-Arrrr, available from the CFC. Pirates will take care to only rob the former.
When travelling on certain ships or staying in certain ports in the Stormwracks, more senior Pirates may rob from your auxiliary coin bag, citing Counter-exemption 499. If this occurs, don’t panic – just submit a reimbursement claim to the Department of Buccaneering on Remittance Island, using Form 213-B. You should receive at least 80 per cent of what was robbed within twenty-eight days.
Climate and Terrain
If you’ve been paying attention so far, you’ll probably have got the picture: there’s a lot of sea on Spume. In fact, there’s not much else.[19] As for climate, Spume is especially maddening: the bright white sun moves in different directions on different days, and there are no less than six possible equators, each of which migrates over time. The good news is that, because you’re technically never more than 23 degrees north or south of an equator, you’re always in the tropics. On the other hand, it makes the weather insane. Only the most scholarly Pirates even pretend to comprehend Spumish meteorology, and climatic maps tend to look as if a child has been given a bag of military-grade crank and told to draw a ball of string. As a tourist, however, all you need to know is which areas tend to be calm and which are stormy – let the Pirates figure out the rest.
YE OLDE FORESTRY COMMISSION
You wouldn’t think there’d be much need for forestry management in Spume, but you’d be wrong. Mangrove swamps spread for miles around many of the larger islands, while lush rainforest tends to spring up on any flat ground past the tide-line, and sheer demand for shipbuilding timber means it all has to be carefully stewarded. Still, the real work of the CFC’s Forestry Commission is out at sea: a whole fleet of ships patrols Spume’s smallest islands, trimming back all foliage until only a single, iconic palm tree remains. It’s this attention to detail that makes Spume as magical as it is.
Wildlife
The odds are, if you can imagine a ridiculous form of marine life, it probably exists on Spume. The Pirate biologist Tobias H. Beastcounter once tried to compile a full bestiary, but died at the age of ninety-three having got halfway through the section on crabs. These volumes alone took up half the hold of his ship. So, rather than attempt to summarise Spume’s frankly bewildering biodiversity, it’s best to focus on some of the more charismatic, dangerous or culturally important species.
The Palmback (Hyperchelonus Peudinsularis) is a turtle-like colossus, measuring two miles or more fully grown, which spends most of its time basking at the surface. They are infamous for looking and behaving exactly like islands – until they submerge. As a result, Palmbacks are one great reason not to go island-hopping without an experienced guide.
Sea Serpents (Anguis Megamaritimus) are aquatic snakes, and are common as muck on Spume, with the smaller species commonly spitted and grilled as street food.[20] The larger kinds, however, can grow to phenomenal sizes, and can crack the keel of any boat that runs into them in full sail. They’re not dangerous to humans, although it can be faintly stomach-churning watching one swallow a whale whole.
With more than ten-thousand kinds of Shark (Elasmobranchii Orders), Spume is a paradise for fans of the bitey lads. From the almost cuddly, faintly pathetic Custard Sharks (Selachimorphis Tragicus) of Doldrum, to the sixty-foot Greater Whites (Carcharodon Gigalodon) that ply the deep channels south of the Stormwracks, there truly is a shark for every occasion. What’s more, they are adored: many Captains will encourage them to follow their ships at sea, becoming familiar to the point that they’ll take meat from the sharp end of a hooked hand.[21]
Without a doubt, the most emblematic denizen of the depths is the Kraken (Pseudarchiteuthis Imperator). Much has been written about these vast creatures, but it all boils down to the fact that they are really, really big squid.[22] That’s impressive enough on its own, but even more remarkable is their sheer economic utility: the internal structure of a kraken is maintained by bone-like structures with a composition almost identical to wood, while their excrement contains a petrochemical blend indistinguishable from tar. Their mouthparts produce a fibre that can be spun into sturdy rope, while glands in their gut produce all the necessary ingredients for gunpowder. All in all, they contain everything you need to build a Pirate ship, and they taste great too – which is why so many Pirates ply their trade hunting them.[23]
People
Pirates
Paranthropus Peirates culture is incredibly cosmopolitan: it favours no ethnicity, gender or sexual preference, and encompasses a huge range of religious beliefs. This egalitarian approach to identity makes it all the more bizarre that it’s mandatory for everyone to at least attempt an utterly ludicrous accent. But that’s the secret to Spumish personal freedom: you can be anyone you like – so long as you’re a Pirate first and foremost.
PETA
Perhaps the biggest source of acrimony between Pirates and their undead cousins surrounds the issue of Kraken. While the Pirates argue that hunting the beasts forms a vital part of both their economy and their
