Skeleton Pirates
The Skeleton Pirates (technically Paranthropus Peirates Skeletos) are a strange bunch. The CFC certainly consider them fellow Pirates, since they pursue an existence based on ritualised maritime theft. Nevertheless, the longevity and melancholy inflicted on them by the Curse has made them rather more … pious. The political schism between Skeletal and Non-Skeletal Pirates is rooted in fundamental disagreements over the ontological complexities of Piracy, which have long become far too nuanced and labyrinthine for outsiders to follow. In short, the Boneys[26] feel the CFC has lost sight of the values of sustainability on which it was founded.[27] Rather than squander limited timber reserves by building new ships, for example, they tend to salvage old ones – or create serviceable vessels from the carcasses of sea monsters that have died of natural causes.[28] For the most part, the Skeletons prosecute their moral conflict through activism, stunts and passive-aggressive pranks. Frequently, Pirates will come across bogus treasure maps left by the Skeletons, which will lead them halfway across the sea only to find a chest containing a snarky political slogan signed with the Skeleton symbol.[29]
The humans
There are absolutely, definitely, 100 per cent no humans on Spume. Everyone is a Pirate. To reiterate: there are no humans at all, and it’s certainly not worth going looking for them.[30]
3. PLANNING YOUR TRIP
When to Visit
It would be pointless to offer advice on when to visit Spume based on the weather. You basically need a PhD to comprehend the forecast for a given region, so it’s best just to stick a pin in the calendar and hope. Regardless, there are several annual and regular events that it’s advisable to time a visit around.
The CFC AGM
On the last day of the Pirate year, every member of the Council of Free Captains sails to the vast compass that protrudes from the sea at the spot known as Allpoints[31] in order to discuss the future direction of piratical society. The actual council meetings, conducted on the upper surface of the compass, are interminably dull, but the jamboree the crews throw to keep themselves occupied while the Captains do their business is fantastic. Barges selling deep-fried seafood ply their trade between the ships, while travelling entertainers move from deck to deck by zipline.
Talk Even More Like a Pirate Day
Held each day at the start of whatever feels like it might be autumn, this maddening festival sees every Pirate on Spume dial their linguistic bullshit up to eleven and talk complete bollocks for twenty-four hours. It’s great fun to experience – just don’t try to accomplish any meaningful transactions on the day in question, or you’ll be hopelessly bamboozled.
The Looting of the Governor’s Mansion
While Pirates are fundamentally opposed to any kind of central government, they realised long ago that life would get dull without a formal nation state to oppose. Enter the Governor, a hapless Pirate chosen by lottery each year, who must live in an enormous, treasure-stuffed mansion in the Yohos protected by a wholly inadequate ‘Navy’.[32] After a brief off-season, during which the Governor is mandated to hold several society balls, the mansion is declared fair game, and the looting – which is open to all, including tourists – begins.
The Pirates progressed from jostling the Governor to what I would definitely classify as ‘rough shoving’, and soon had him hoisted above their heads. I was – of course – just trying to work out whether it would be code-appropriate to rush in to the rescue, when I realised the Governor was laughing.
‘Thank fuck for that, lads,’ he gasped as he tore off his epaulettes and cravat. ‘This is some other sod’s job now. Now, who looted the good rubies?’
A rotund Pirate near the back of the crowd raised her hand (which was a corkscrew), and a cheer went up.
‘Ha, Winehand Sally,’ said the now ex-Governor, ‘I should have known. Well, you can put that thing to use tonight, as the bloody drinks are on you.’ The Pirates cheered again and stampeded off into the tropical night, leaving the mansion abandoned to the breeze once more. For now, at least, all government on the planet had technically been eradicated.
— FROM THE TRAVEL JOURNAL OF FLOYD WATT
Getting Around
Spoiler alert: it’s boats.
Eating and Drinking
If you’re fussy about eating seafood, this really isn’t the World for you. While it’s just about possible to get by on land-based foodstuffs here, you’ll get bored of tropical fruit pretty quickly, and for many Pirates a vegetarian meal just means ‘a few less sardines than usual.’ One plant-based substance that is virtually universal[33] is rum, acting not just as a drink but as a marinade, a condiment and – for many – a hobby.
SPUME’S
BEST BARS and RESTAURANTS
Mad Tamzin’s Hell for Fish: Rickety shed in the Stormwracks, where creatures you’ve never heard of are dunked in rum by a woman with hands like bin lids, then hurled alive onto white-hot coals for your delectation.
Steel Neil’s Meal of Eels: Hardcore establishment run by Neil himself, who now has so many metal body parts he can barely operate a stove, but who will still sell you a wheelbarrow of live eels for a doubloon.
Vegetables, I Suppose: Half-hearted ‘vegetarian’ restaurant, where meals are sourced by desperate cooks scavenging from a patch of rainforest out the back of the kitchen. On days when their luck is poor, be prepared for the head chef to try to persuade you that an octopus counts as a fruit.
Currency
Since
