Clan : The Crew of 'THE FLYING FRENCHMAN'

Captained by th' incompant an' ruthless 'Frenchie Bagette', th' Frenchman limped into 'Shartak' fer supplies, th' rum, water an' hardtack almost gone, followin' the beam of a lighthouse.

âTh' storm raged an' th' winds screamed an' thar be a terrible crash! Thar was nay lighthouse. 'T be a foul trich t' draw us in ans pillage our carcasses. Frenchy Bagette's hade be crushed like a bread-fruit an' th' crew what survived dragged they's self t' shore an' spread th''r number ou' upon this rock called 'Shartak', to live out the rest of their pathetic lives as landlubbers. “Our crew numbered all races an' creeds, from female, t' buccanneer t' cannibal.

Do ye be a member o' 'Th' Flyin' Frenchman'? Wi' our numbers, an' a seaman's cunnin', I wager we could easy take this Isle from the lilly-livered women-folk that prance around 'ere makin' eye sex at each other, without firin' a scallywaggin' shot.

So say Terrible Ed Rickets, first mate under Frenchie Bagette, o' 'Th' Flyin' Frenchman'.

And do not pay nay heed t' th' many stories o' th' horrid curse called down by th' daid Captain French Bagette on all and sundry who takes 'tis banner! Causin' misfortune an' 'orrible death! Faer nay me fine shipman, 't only be legend.