Rumors had been circulating on Brick-uga Island for some time about a mighty ship arriving in the Caribbean, loaded with blue jackets and treasures of all kinds, with the new governor of the colonies on board. The island was abuzz, in the "Octobrick" tavern there was nothing else to talk about. Pirates of all kinds, whether they were slightly or very drunk, spent their time telling each other what they knew, or thought they knew, between a fistfight and bad rum.
“They talk about a ship with 100 guns!!!”, said a buccaneer.
“A galleon with three decks and 4 masts”, swore a cabin boy who had just arrived from the Florida coast.
“The hold is full of chests full of gold to start new plantations,” reported the innkeeper.
By now it was clear that the desire to take possession of such riches snaked among the pirates and far exceeded the fear of the frigates and sloops that would surely have escorted the sailing ship. In a corner of the tavern an old captain was standing to one side, his wooden leg leaning on the table, his beard well trimmed, a red and neat suit as if freshly tailored, a gleam of gold at the end of his left arm... it was Golden Hook.
The captain had long since earned his "buen-retiro". During the glorious years of the "war of the race" he had put aside huge wealth, and the king himself, to thank him, had given him a golden hook and a saber, also forged with the noblest of metals. The captain's boat had been safely anchored in an inlet on the island for some time. Crustaceans and molluscs had taken possession of the hull. The old "Eagle", this is the name of the schooner, no longer flew on the surface of the water. But these voices that were in the air had awakened something in Golden Hook. A thrill, an appetite, a longing for one last great feat. He called his most trusted men to him and decided to go back to sea, but first there was a need to bring "Eagle" back to new splendour. The boat, when hauled out of the water was cleaned from top to bottom, the hull lengthened, the masts rigged with a new combination of sails, new and mighty guns were hoisted on deck. The boat, transformed into a brigantine, was ready to set sail again, its arrival announced by a huge eagle with spread wings carved into the hard wood of which the bow was made. But the captain was still restless, he was missing something, indeed someone... The friend of a thousand raids, Captain Redbeard, was lost at sea. Redbeard and his mythical Barracuda had been sucked into a treacherous storm, and they had lost track of them. Some reported sightings of dim lights beyond impassable cliffs, but no survivors had been found, yet not a single piece of the glorious vessel had been seen floating. Hope, as we know, dies hard. The undertaking of attacking a small flotilla with only Eagle was too big a gamble even for a sea dog like Golden Hook...
And the captain decided. He decided that the first step in this enterprise would be to set sail in search of his old friend, to carry out one last great madness together…
