Watcher - To The Island of The Caribbeans

Prologue

The year is 1717. Count Carl Gyllenborg, the Swedish ambassador to the Kingdom of Great Britain , is arrested in London over a plot to assist the The Young Pretender, Charles Edward Stuart to the British throne, James Francis Edward Stuart. Spain unites its South American  colonies as the Viceroyalty of New Granada. The Premier Grand Lodge of England, the 'Modern' and first Free-Masonic Grand Lodge (which merges with the Ancient Grand Lodge of England in 1813 to form the United Grand Lodge of England), is founded in London.

And I... I'm just enjoying a nice slice of fresh goat's cheese in this nice bar close to the port that leads to The Caribbean Islands. The atmosphere here is pretty 18th Century like. Lots of men sipping beer and talking nonsense about their beards. "I have the biggest beard in the world" and all that. But I don't mind it too much as I appreciate some human words to fill my boredom.

The port itself is in a pretty shape too. Makes you appreciate the effort and care they put in such small yet useful things. The woodwork especially has a nice touch to it's primitive design. Thick, brown and hard to break using your fist. The water can't do it's justice either. Since this port's establishment the locals never bothered to change a log. And it shows why. Even now there hasn't been any sign of rottenness. And it's hous-

"Would you like another slice, sir?"

"Why thank you. I would happily accept your offer."

"Since you arrived, sir, you have been doing nothing else but thinking. Is it something the matter?"

"That I do not think is your business. In this place, there are two roles. I am the customer and you are the bartender. As long as I pay you, you don't have any other right but to bring me my order. Anything else is irrelevant."

"I am sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

You might think I was a jerk for pushing him away, but that'll never be the case with someone like me. I've been noticing this guy staring at me with what I can describe as "corrupt eyes". Ready to make a quick gold coin. But he won't getting any from my head!

Coming back to business. Where is my cli- ?

"WHERE IS HE!?"

"Oh my! A pirate!!!"

Just before I could finish my thought, a big muscle guy enter the bar. Judging from his looks he was about 28 years old, big black beard, lots of tattoos, a red bandana with white dots around it and a wooden leg. Giving a quick look around the room I could see the terrified faces his angry face sparked. He looked like he was ready to kill someone on the spot.

"I ain't any pirate but I swear if you don't tell me where this man is, I will cut your head with my sword and use your skull as my dog's shithole!"

Ouch! Talk about insults! Not even I could come up with such an assortment of words... Actually I could, but moving on!

"Wwhat man, ssir? I do not know who you are talking abbout."

"Don't play games with me, you weasel! Haven't you seen the papers flowing around the country!?"

"Wwwhat pape- ?"

"THIS PAPERS!"

I couldn't make out what was on those 2-3 papers made of old wood. Of course my intuition was everything I needed in order to answer my own question. It was an "Wanted" poster for me. Looks like he got my message.

"Ppplease, sir! I doo not know anyone with this face."

"Didn't people around here call you the man of many stories? The man who won't miss a face, even if he wanted to?"