The rusty old sailor looked out upon the crisp sunrise over the ocean. As the waves gently lapped at the crusted docks, he turned from the mast of his glorious ship to view the town. This morning, it was peaceful. A few stray white chickens pecked at the cobblestone streets, and a lone washerwoman hurried down a dark alley with a brown wicker basket. Faintly, the call of a single bird reached his ears from the massive forests on either side of the sleepy town. Glancing toward the sheltered harbor, he noticed with grim satisfaction there were no brightly-painted navy ships. He looked down, making sure the gleaming decks of his newly 'acquired' ship was busy with activity. The crew quickly dropped sail in preparation for the coming battle, the crisp white canvas rising magnificently.

"The flag, man!" he called, and their flapping banner rose like a black bird. On the ebony background, the shimmering pale skull and crossbones waved madly in the wind, as the ship descended on the town.