"My great grandfather was the pirate Wesley Higgins", I finally growled.  "I know, who the hell was Wesley Higgins?", I added half angered by his insolence.  "He was a freakin' pirate, weren't you listening?"

In the late eighteen hundreds Wesley Higgins captained a ship hailing from the coast of Barbados.  The Big Lucy was an ex-slaving vessel stripped down to the bare bones.  It was fast and lean.  The bounties they recovered were of massive haul.  The crew loved the ship.  They hated the captain! 

Wesley Higgins, you see, was a drunkard.  A loud, billowing, larger than life drunk.  Yes, most sailors drank the demon rum and with the stresses that a pirate brought upon himself, I'm sure they downed their share.  But Wesley Higgins lived in it. Bathed in it.  Slept in it.  The crew not-so-lovingly nicknamed him Old Rum Higgins.

Many times The Big Lucy was almost captured, but the crew's penchant for disobeying orders saved them.  This very same penchant, of course, sealed the fate of one Old Rum Higgins.

The Big Lucy was being laid upon by a rival ship, The Dire.  The Big Lucy was literally in dire straights when the call came up from The Dire, "Give up the ship or give up your captain".  Moments later a small rum keg filled to the cork with one Old Rum Higgins could be seen floating in the bay.

 

It was a sad day for Wesley Higgins, for he didn't survive the keelhauling.  It was a great day of a sorts for our family.  Wesley Higgins left an untraceable fortune to my grand father and we're still living off it today.  Thanks you old rummy you.