“A sloop has been spotted on the horizon,” the first mate proclaimed to his captain. “Looks to be a great prize!”

Captain Bloodstone turned from his Bible reading, slapping the book onto his bed. “Huzzah!” He crowed. “At last! The Lord has turned His face to us!”

The crew of the Vixen burst into activity. Furling and unfurling sails, preparing weapons, consulting the wind, swabbing slippery spots on the deck.

The attack was taken with barely a drop of blood, to everyone’s relief. Gold, silver and rum were loaded on board.

“Captain, what will we do with this one?” A crew member asked.

He pushed forward a young man wearing a paint-stained apron and three comely ladies.

“Please don’t kill us,” the young man, who called himself Edward, said. “I am an artist and if you’d like I can paint your portrait. I am world famous!”

The Captain’s eyes swiveled to the ladies. “And who be your lady folk?”

“My muses,” the artist said. “They come with me everywhere I go. They inspire my art.”

Captain Bloodstone stroked his beard. “Lucky man,”. He said. “I’ve always wanted me portrait painted.”

The artist bowed. “It would be a great honor,” Edward said. “And if you don’t mind me saying, you are not the murderous fiend that the news sheets proclaim.”

“T’is all propaganda,” Bloodstone said. “Let me find you some suitable quarters.”