The Ballad of Captain Whiskerbeard and the Crew of the Purrl

Arrr, gather 'round, ye scallywags, and lend me yer ears — all four of 'em if ye've got 'em. This be the tale o' Captain Whiskerbeard, the most fearsome tabby ever to sharpen 'is claws on a ship's mast.

The Purrl were a fine vessel, she were. Three masts, a hammock in every porthole, and a crow's nest fitted with the softest cushion this side o' Tortuga. Her crew were the scurviest lot o' felines on the Seven Seas: One-Eyed Mittens, the first mate, who lost 'is eye in a duel with a particularly angry ball o' yarn; Fluffbottom the Cook, who could fry a flounder in nine seconds flat; and young Pip, a ginger cabin kitten with more courage than sense.

The Legend o' the Golden Sardine

One foggy mornin', as the crew lay sunnin' themselves on the deck — for no proper pirate cat rises before noon — a bottle washed up against the hull. Pip batted it 'round the deck fer a good twenty minutes before Captain Whiskerbeard finally plucked it up and pulled out the map inside.

"Shiver me whiskers!" he roared. "'Tis the map to the Golden Sardine o' Catalina Cove!"

The crew gasped. Every cat on the seas knew the legend: a sardine cast in pure gold, said to grant the one who found it an endless supply o' fish and a sunbeam that never moves. Many a crew had sought it. None had returned — mostly 'cause they'd got distracted by a laser pointer on Pointer Island and forgot what they were doin'.

Trouble on the Horizon

For three days and three naps they sailed. On the fourth, Mittens spied a black sail through 'is spyglass.

"Cap'n! 'Tis the Barking Barnacle!"

A chill ran down every spine aboard. The Barking Barnacle were crewed by none other than Admiral Slobberjaw and his band o' bloodthirsty bulldogs. They'd been chasin' the Golden Sardine fer years, and they weren't about to let a pack o' "furballs" beat 'em to it.

"Battle stations!" cried Whiskerbeard. "Fluffbottom, load the cannons with hairballs! Mittens, hard to starboard! Pip — er — look intimidatin'!"

The dogs fired first, launchin' a volley o' tennis balls that bounced harmlessly off the Purrl's deck. But oh, what a mistake that were. For the bulldogs, bein' bulldogs, could not help themselves. Half the crew dove overboard to fetch their own ammunition.

"Now, me hearties!" Whiskerbeard bellowed. The cats let loose a broadside o' the most dreadful hissin' ever heard on the open ocean. The remainin' dogs whimpered, tucked their tails, and paddled off after their mates. Admiral Slobberjaw shook his jowly fist from the stern: "This ain't over, ye mangy mousers!"

Catalina Cove

At last the Purrl dropped anchor in Catalina Cove. The map led them to a cave guarded by the most terrible obstacle any cat could face: a shallow stream o' water.

The crew froze. Mittens' fur stood on end. Fluffbottom backed away slowly. Even Captain Whiskerbeard's whiskers trembled.

But young Pip — brave, foolish little Pip — took one look at the shiny pebbles in that stream and leapt right in. He splashed across, shook himself off on the far bank (gettin' everyone soakin' wet in the process), and disappeared into the cave.

Moments later came a tiny voice: "Cap'n! I found it!"

The Treasure

Deep in the cave, upon a pedestal of coral, lay the Golden Sardine, gleamin' like the mornin' sun. And beside it, sure enough, was a perfect warm sunbeam streamin' through a crack in the rock above.

Captain Whiskerbeard placed a paw on Pip's damp little head. "Ye've done a brave thing today, lad. From this day on, ye shall be known as Pip the Fearless — the cat who crossed the water."

And what did the crew o' the Purrl do with the greatest treasure in all the Seven Seas?

Why, they curled up in that sunbeam, every last one of 'em, and took the longest, most glorious nap in pirate history.

The Golden Sardine? Fluffbottom knocked it off the pedestal three minutes later. Just to see what would happen.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate cat's life fer me.

— The End —