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Enter The Brew D'Agon
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the world is damned and lost.
The large and powerful fish devour the small fry
- Alexander the Great
after diving in a bathysphere
Just keep swimming.
- Dory the Royal Blue Tang in
Finding Nemo
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“Ahoy & Avast! D’Agon fhtagn!”
A strong voice, amplified through a bullhorn, hailed down to the men on the deck of the small ketch sitting eye-level with the middle tier of gunports on The Brew D’Agon. The captain of the pirate ketch waved, smiled broadly, and elbowed the first mate, reminding him to do the same. The first mate was too preoccupied to notice. He focused on the gunport that had swung open in front of him. Within the darkness, the even darker black hole of a cannon mouth gaped ominously. Never taking his eyes off the doom looming so close at hand, the first mate waggled his fingers nervously in a half-hearted wave.
“Be aware! We shallst be droppin’ a gangplank to ye forthwith.”
The voice in the bullhorn called down, giving barely enough warning for the pirates standing closest to the starboard gunwale to take a few quick, life-saving steps backward. Grappling hooks and thick hemp ropes snaked down from the larger vessel and cut grooves as they caught hold in the wooden deck and railings. The ketch was hauled close against the man-o-war as the long gangplank fell heavily mid-ship. The ketch rocked violently.
Louis was shaken from his déjà vu daydream-nightmare. The whispering, buzzing and hissing receded almost instantly from his mind – the rhythm of their song, the taste of their fruit, gone from his lips. Louis awoke to find he was, much like the ketch’s first mate, staring into the massive maw of a cannon. The only difference between the two predicaments: the cannon Louis stared at had a shock of red hair on top. The patch of red hair shifted, and a wide-eyed child smiled happily and waved. Louis felt less afraid but more confused, and waved back timidly with a bewildered half-smile. The bullhorn sounded again.
“Come aboard & mind thy step. We doth offer thee free drinks, free food, free entertainment, friendly companionship, & once-in-a-lifetime opportunities for those amongst thee who be seekin’ treasures beyond imagination. D’Agon fhtagn.”
Some of the pirates marched up the steep gangplank into the belly of the beast more happily than others. Their captain heard the promises echoing in his head. “Free drinks”, “free food”, “free entertainment”, “friendly companionship”, and “treasures beyond imagination”? He smelled the trap, but he couldn’t quite make it out, yet. The gunboat's captain was far smarter than almost every other member of his crew. He was not a genius, but it didn’t take a genius to realize most of his crew were as good as turned against him. They were already impressed. If this is a trap, it is already sprung. Damn it all!! But it won’t matter as long as my inner circle remains loyal. We can still win this prize and take her gold and women. The scheming pirate captain’s dreams were always incorrigibly lustful.
A young woman greeted the pirates as they stepped off the gangplank and on board The Brew D’Agon. She flipped back her raven-colored hair as Louis shuffled in queue past her. He looked down at his shoes as their eyes met, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of emotions. His heart fluttered like a bird's wings. Louis caught a whiff of perfume. When you have spent most of your adult life around sailors and pirates (most of whom reeked of sweat, fish, and rum), a beguiling, feminine aroma can push you over the edge into madness. Louis knew he would do anything she asked of him. Well, almost anything.
With a wave of her arm she directed the boarding pirates toward the stern of the man-o-war’s main deck, where tables and chairs had been set restaurant-style. Just past the tables, a row of tall stools had been placed in front of a long countertop.
“Greeting, pirates. Welcome aboard The Brew D’Agon. Please, seat yourselves at the tables or at the bar, whichever most suits your fancy. The Right Honourable Reverend Doctor will be available to answer your questions once every one of you has had suitable food and drink.”
Louis followed her instructions without thinking. His thoughts were lost in the melody of her words, not the meaning. Louis’ heart felt light and airy, like he was floating across the deck of the ship.
A scowling, looming presence brought Louis quickly back to earth. The beefy ogre’s massive head slowly turned to stare at Louis. Louis felt the man’s heavy gaze following him as he made a beeline for the bar. He ignored the burning look as much as possible and focused on his surroundings.
Louis recognized the basic floor-plan: this was the typical Brew D’Agon Tea, Rum, & Coffee Haus he had seen in several ports, placed aboard a man-o-war in the space on the main deck usually reserved for an admiral’s or commodore’s day cabin. Louis had lied to the ketch’s captain earlier. Louis had spent many long hours drinking in various Brew D’Agon establishments and had developed a deep appreciation for their specialty, VodouBrew™. The brew quickly knocked most pirates unconscious, but had the opposite effect on Louis. The strange brew made Louis feel more awake, more vibrant, more alive. Louis instantly felt at ease in the familiar setting, and forgot about his worries for the moment.
A matronly African woman standing behind the bar smiled warmly and opened her arms wide in greeting. She managed to hug him deeply despite the countertop of the bar separating them.
“Let Momma guess. VodouBrew™ for you? Non, mon ami?”
She placed the drink in front of him, already mixed and waiting. How did she know? He pondered the mystery.
“I don’t have to be able to read minds to know what you drink, Louis. I remember everyone I’ve served.”
She laughed and winked, hinting as if he should know what she was talking about. He thought about it, and finally just barely remembered her. They had met after the smugglers made a delivery to a safe house located next door to a Brew D’Agon franchise. This woman, “Momma”, had served him his fifth and sixth drinks and chatted him up about his philosophy on life. In fact, Momma had poured Louis his first ever glass of VodouBrew™.
His memories of the rest of that night (in Carolina?) were jumbled and surreal; Louis still wasn’t sure exactly what happened. He remembered singing with a blind man wearing two eye-patches. He remembered someone else rambling about mermaids being real and having two-tails. Had that ogre been there? He couldn’t remember. Louis forced a smile and refocused on Momma. She was talking about the food.
“We weren’t expecting to run into you pirates, so please pardon our lack of haute cuisine. We have only one ‘special’, cotes de boeuf au barbecue avec pommes frites, but I must recommend it for you, mon ami. Look over le menu, and tell one of the bartenders what you wish to order. Do not worry, Louis, Momma will take care of you, oui.”
She winked again, turned, and pushed through the swinging doors into the upper galley. Louis watched the doors slowly swing closed on hinges with springs designed to ensure gentle but secure closure. Louis wasn’t stupid, quite the opposite, in truth. He didn’t pretend to be a genius, but he usually knew what was happening before his peers did, mostly because he noticed subtle connections they overlooked or dismissed as irrelevant. Louis noticed the hinges were finely engineered and well-crafted. This ship must be worth a fortune, Louis realized. If they have so much wealth at their disposal, what could they possible want with our miserable ketch? Louis mulled over the question.
“She will definitely make you think, if you let her.”
A tall, thin, balding man leaned against the bar next to Louis. He possessed a precise, commanding, but gentle, voice and the distinct accent of a colonial American from New England. Louis was of average height for his day and age, but he had to angle his neck back to look at the face of the man speaking to him.
“Pardon moi?”
“I’m speaking of the ship, of course. I can spy a man with a sharp eye. It’s one of my few talents, and one of the reasons I’m first mate of this vessel. My name is Christian; Edward Christian Love. Some names are both a blessing and curse. Mine is one I’ve learned to willingly embrace.”
The Brew D’Agon’s first mate nodded his head briefly in greeting, and half-raised his glass of water in an off-handed salute.
“Your name is Louis, correct? Something tells me you are a good man. I pray we meet again, my young friend. Bon appetit.”
A large, juicy slab of beef and bone, accompanied by small pile of cut and fried potatoes, appeared on the bar in front of Louis. He had been paying attention to the first mate, and so Louis never saw exactly who delivered his meal. The aroma grabbed his attention away and directed it on the food before him. Distracted by the mouth-watering smell, Louis never saw the first mate leave. In the middle of a crowded, oceangoing bar/restaurant, Louis suddenly found himself alone with his food and his drink, and his thoughts.
Normally, Louis might have simply sat on his stool, eating his heart out with desire for the raven-locked goddess he had just so cowardly fled. Luckily for Louis, at this moment his ravenous hunger was far stronger than his desire for any woman, no matter how beautiful she might be. Louis believed in love at first sight – he might be feeling it at this moment, maybe – but, even if he wasn't, he knew he was experiencing love at first bite. This was without a doubt, the best food he had ever tasted. Louis was so enraptured by the succulent flavors, that he barely noticed the incorporeal whispers. He waved a hand near his ear in an absentminded attempt to shoo away their buzzing.
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buccaneer (n.)
1660s, from French boucanier “user of a boucan,” A native grill for roasting meat,
from Tupi mukem (rendered in Portuguese as moquem c. 1587):
“initial b and m are interchangeable in the Tupi language” [Klein].
For Haitian variant barbacoa, see barbecue.
Originally used of French settlers working as hunters and woodsmen
in the Spanish West Indies, a lawless and piratical set
after they were driven from their trade by the Spanish authorities in the 1690s.
- www.etymonline.com/?search=buccaneer
barbecue (n.)
1650s, “framework for grilling meat, fish, etc.,” from American Spanish barbacoa,
from Arawakan (Haiti) barbakoa “framework of sticks,”
the raised wooden structure the Indians used to either sleep on or cure meat.
- www.etymonline.com/?search=barbecue
rib (n.)
Old English ribb “rib,” from Proto-Germanic *rebja-
(cognates: Old Norse rif, Old Saxon ribbi, Old Frisian ribb, Middle Dutch, Dutch ribbe,
Old High German ribba, German Rippe), literally “a covering” (of the cavity of the chest),
from PIE *rebh- “to roof, cover” (cognates: Greek ereptein “to roof,”
Old Church Slavonic rebro “rib, reef”). As an item of food from early 15c.
Rib joint “brothel” is slang from 1943, probably in reference to Adam’s rib
(compare rib “woman, wife,” attested from 1580s).
rib (v.)
“tease, fool” 1930, apparently from rib (n.);
perhaps as a figurative suggestion of poking someone in the ribs.
- www.etymonline.com/?search=rib
Strangely enough,
the same framework was used as a means of protection against the wild
that may attack during middle of night while at sleep.
- www.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbecue
As he slept, the creator took out one of his bones (ivi)
And made of it a woman, whom he gave to the man to be his wife,
and the pair became the progenitors of mankind.
This narrative was taken down from the lips of the natives
in the early years of the mission to Tahiti … Some have also stated
that the woman’s name was Ivi, which would be by them pronounced as written Eve.
Ivi is an aboriginal word, and … signifies a bone.
- William Ellis
Polynesian Researches
One of these was a rib. The Sumerian word for rib is ‘ti’,
so the relevant healing goddess is named ‘Nin-ti’ or lady of the rib.
‘Ti’ also means ‘to make live’.
Kramer argued that this play on words has carried over to Genesis in the name Eve
which can mean, in Hebrew, ‘She who makes live’.
- Stephen Oppenheimer
Eden in the East
the cannibals roast their captain
in the style of the buccaneers,
and eat him bit by bit.
- Ernesto Frers
The Templar Pirates
And they did all eat, and were filled’
- Mark 6:42
King James Bible
And those who tasted, knew.
- Idries Shah
Tales of the Dervishes
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