Guest writer - Richard Adams
Every Tuesday night, at around tea time, the children on the tiny island of Lupus would run to the local Church and gather at the feet of their Padre; Reverend Farquar of The Leper Seas. The good Reverend would answer the door with a laugh and a jig welcoming all the children into his chapel, which was made from coconut shells and the washed up remnants of old ships. Once inside they would be taken in to the table in the middle of the tabernacle, which would always be covered with wonderful treats of all kinds such as coconut juice, coconut pie, beef Wellington(without the beef but with plenty of coconut), coconut cake, truffles(made with nut from the coco), spam(the little known coconut variety), coconut flambe and plenty of plain, uncracked coconut for the tough kids. The Reverend would make the treats with his own hands and though his ingredients were limited to what grew on the island (coconuts, mainly), the children loved them anyway.

The Reverend had been on Lupus for many a year, the only priest on an island filled to the brim with leprosy. Reverend Farquar had tended to their wounds, comforted the dead and sticky taped the limbs back on the afflicted when they fell off. Thankfully, the Reverend had never caught the dreaded disease himself, though, every morning when he awoke, the Reverend would throw his hands forward in a rapid, violent fashion to see if his arms fell off. It was the only definite way to test for leprosy. So far the arms had stayed attached, but the Reverend knew that the day would come when he'd have to get rid of all his long sleeved jumpers and mainly concentrate on wearing tops of the short sleeved variety.

After the feast, Reverend Farquar would light the torches about the chapel and take a seat at the table. The children would gather around his leprosy free feet and the Reverend would regale them with tales of his travels and the occasional bit of gossip.

"And what would you like to hear about this night my wee loverlies?" the Reverend would ask and the children would laugh and shout for whichever story they wanted.

"Tell us of the dread Kraken of the Norwegian Sea!" one would shout.

"What of the fiery abyss of the Southern Lands!" would shout another.

"What about Tom Cruise? You think he's gay?" would shout a third.

Yet on this one evening, a particularly precocious child asked, "Reverend Farquar, how did you first become a Padre?"

And the room went silent. The Reverend stared at the child intently, impressed by his tenacity and courage. His eyes bore into the child's soul and he saw that one day this small boy would be a great leader amongst his people. Then, forgetting what the child had asked him, the Reverend panicked, became uncomfortable and not knowing what else to do, stared some more. About an hour and forty five minutes later, the Reverend finally remembered what the question was and spoke.

"So, my wee ones, you want to know MY story do you? Very well. I shall tell thee, but first a warning! This is not a tale for the faint hearted amongst ye! No. For even the very beginning of this tale contains a horrific revelation. That's right! For you see my children, before I was a man of the cloth, before I was known as Reverend Farquar, I was known as.... FARQUAR THE BEIGE! DREAD PIRATE OF THE BROWN SEAS!!!"

The children gasped! One wet its sash. Another vomited into a coconut. They could not believe what they had just heard! Their beloved Padre!? A pirate!?

"That's right little ones. I was a pillaging, rampaging, bloodletting, baby eating pirate. I had my own ship, my own band of scurvy sea dogs and, for a while, I even had a parrot... until I ate him! Anyway, I travelled the seven seas leaving a trail of unheard of destruction behind me on account of my mother not hugging me enough as a child and my father hugging me a little too much. I planned to pirate the WHOLE world, from port to port, bay to bay and yacht club to yacht club. I would take all as my own and leave nothing for those who fell before my fearful wrath, and I would have done it too children, if it wasn't for my treacherous Cabin Boy, Oily Pete.....For you see, Oily Pete had long since wanted to be a pirate; a rapscallion king of the seas and had been making plans a long time hence. It was he that turned my crew against me. It was he that had secretly been taking photos of them all this time in compromising positions with various sea creatures. It was he that had threatened to release those pictures to PIRATE MONTHLY magazine if they didn't acquiesce to his plan of betrayal and skullduggery, and it was he who held the dagger to my throat when I awoke that fateful morning.....but I was not killed that day, children. No. For if I had been this story would sound very different due to the fact that I would not be here. Instead, I was cast from the ship, exiled from my own vessel. There I was, abandoned to the unmerciful inclinations of the tide with nothing but a dead seagull to balance upon. That's right, my friends, not even a boat did they leave me, just the surprisingly buoyant carcass of a sea bird. Long did I stand tip toed upon that cursed creature; alone; unowned and waiting for deaths clammy hands to come take me. But, to my surprise, those hands did not come. Instead, a voice boomed down from the heavens. A great, almighty voice that caused fish to leap and clouds to part. A majestic, baronial voice that brought life to all things and struck the very chords of my soul. 'Whatcha!' It said. 'You're in a pickle ain't ya?'. And then it proceeded to tell me of my wicked ways and how I must make amends for them. It told me of the goodness within me, of the blessed light that burned within my bones and how I could use that light to destroy darkness. He told me that if I turned against my kind, that if I became a servant to Him and joined Him in destroying my former brethren I would be absolved of all sins and would be blessed with a place at His side on the big comfy couch of the afterlife. My children, he swore that if I took up arms and worked to destroy all pirates, I would become unto that of an angel to him."

The Reverends mouth drew silent as he leaned back in his chair and took a sip from a freshly opened coconut. The children buzzed and muttered amongst themselves until one said,

"And Padre? What happened next? What happened after you said you would join Him in His quest?"

Reverend Farquar slowly placed the drink back upon the table and fixed the children with a steady, kindly gaze.

"My trusted young wards, there are many surprises in this life, none more than the ones you present to yourself... and sat here before you now, I must tell you that I did not join with Him in His quest that day."

The children exploded into confused and frantic shouting and yelling. They could not believe what they were hearing.

"But why Padre, why?!" Bellowed one, "You were an evil pirate! How could you not pledge to make amends and destroy what you had once been?"

The Reverend rose to his feet and motioned to the children for calm and as his gaze washed over them they sat in confused silence. The Padre stood for a moment, sighed and then slowly lowered himself to the ground amongst them.

"It was not being a pirate that made me do bad things, little ones. I wish I could blame my station for what I did but, truth be told, it was all my doing. I was responsible for every action I committed and even there, balanced on a seagull in the middle of the ocean, I could not damn those about me because of my actions. Not all pirates are bad. Truth be told, some of my favourite people in this world be pirates. Have you ever met Captain Ice Cream of The Sugar Seas? You'd like him...On that day, I learned that if He in all His wisdom wishes to sit in judgement of mankind, then so be it. But I, a mere shadow of a pious man, can do no such thing. Who am I to cast down those about me? Who am I to judge the worth of another? Who am I to point a righteous finger at humanity...I am no one, children. I am just a man....That is the Church I bow my head within. That is the faith that humbles me. I can only preach of fallibility, my friends, not of condemnation."

And as the words settled into the ears of the children around him, they formed a peaceful and unbreakable trust in the good Reverend and the workings of the world around them.

"But Padre", asked one particularly bright and curious child, "However did you save yourself and get back to dry land?"

"Oh, that!" replied the Reverend. "Well, remembering what my old teacher, Father MacGyver had taught me, I made an outboard motor from passing debris and rode that seagull corpse to dry land! You know, if it hadn't been for that dear, defunct creature, I would not be here today....I still have that dead seagull.....I call him.... MotorArse."

And with that, the children left the chapel in high spirits as they did every Tuesday. The Reverend stood at the door waving them off as they returned to their homes and families before locking the church door and heading down to the calm of the bay. The sun was setting before him, cooling itself in the waters of the horizon. Far away, a bell tolled and the reverend listened closely, recognising it as the sound of an approaching ship. Farquar strained his eyes against the glare of the sun and could make out a small, distant silhouette cutting through the tides and approaching the shore. He would have recognised that shape anywhere. It was The Raven and aboard it would be his comrades, his friends Miss Blimey and Betty Hates Veronica. Pirates. He waved at the vessel as he heard the clatter of bottles and the shouts of drunken revelry coming from the ship. It was going to be a long, marvellous night, and the good Reverend smiled to himself. For if he had indeed been damned for his actions that day, long ago, at least he knew that he would be in the very best of company.

The End