Captain, That Coat With Those Boots?

The trinkets in his golden dreads clink like the coins he covets. He stands high up in the crow's nest, looking out on the glittering tropical waters, his armada coat billowing epically in the gentle wind. His left hand has been replaced with a menacing golden hook, sharp and gleaming wickedly in the burning sunlight. This man, with his too-colorful clothes, overdone stunts, and kidnapping of wenches are only for stereotypical pirates.

He made  his way out onto the main deck, his boots thunking with each self-assured, self-entitled step. Captain Kirkland put both hands on his hips, and took a deep breath of salty air. There was nothing more peacful, to him, than being out on the ocean, no land in sight or storm on the horizon. Just good old pillaging of spice-carrying merchant ships.

"Cap'n?" asked one of the crew. Arthur turned to look at him. "Why are you all dressed up?" The captain looked down at what he wearing. His burgandy armada coat was accented with black and gold embroidery, and his matching black hat was draping with jewels and held a billowing white plume. The cuffs of his boots were gilded and encrusted with gems, and his cravat was, likewise, held in place with a fancy brooch.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" he asked innocently. The man opened his mouth to respond; Arthur ran at him, caught him by the front of his shirt, and literally threw him over the lip of the ship. His scream ended with a splash. Arthur smiled cruelly.

"Sir?" Arthur didn't move. "That was our navigator. And had the map to our last batch of gold." Arthur frowned.

Pirates didn't wear overly-colorful clothing, peg legs or hooks often. Pretty clothes could be hard to come by: most sailors wear the same practical uniforms. As for the hooks and wooden legs, those were rare, too. If you lost a leg, arm, or whatnot, you normally only had the ship's carpenter. They didn't normally clean the tools. Most sailors probably died of infection.

A dramatic score rises in the background, and our anti-hero suddenly turns into our renouned Hollywood stuntman. A platoon of the Queen's men swarm in his wake as the dashing Captain Arthur Kirkland sweeps through the streets. If it weren't for his reputation, an onlooker may giggle at how he ran with both hands shackled.
Suddenly, he's trapped: another group of men, muskets aimed and ready, have headed him off at the pass.  He was stuck between Doom Uno and Doom Dos. He cuts into a convient alleyway. It's a dead end, but he scales a stack of crates and reaches the top of the structure. It's as he gets on the roof, having kicked down the top boxes – which smashed into splinters – that Arthur realizes that he made his position much worse. He had left himself too high up to jump down –
Wait. he thought. Arthur peered over the edge, and sprung back when two shots whizzed by his head. Yep, too high to jump. Not only that, but he glimpsed the men piling remaninng crates and other flammable and/or explosive material around the base of the building. Kirkland thought fast: a clothing line, draping from the top of his roof to the window of a shorter house, was in his reach.
Arthur peered over again. His pursuers seemed too busy to shoot at him – for the moment. He looked down at his shackles, from side to side, and then snapped one open. He looped it around the line and clasped it around his wrist once more. It was now or never: the men were taking a torch to the stacks of crates and gunpowder. Arthur leapt.
He zipped down the line, clothing fluttering down as he went, until he landed on the decorative railing nailed outisde the window. He glanced over his shoulder. Miraculously, the soldiers had not noticed him. They must have been the rejects, Arthuer speculated mockingly.
He slipped through the window, and froze. Before him were several – somewhat unattractive – women, all half-dressed. But that wasn't what made Kirkland sweat. They all had the same look in their eyes, and it seemed that, no matter how much he pulled and fumbled with his shackles, he could not get free.
Oh, Hollywood, how do we love thee? Let me count the ways. Suddenly, because you are a pirate, you have the skills of an acrobat and gymnist. This part can be summarized like this: Most of the stunts we associate with pirates are mostly good old Hollywood magic.

"The Devilish Damsel In Distress" To Be Continued…
There you have it: you've got the hooks, the prophetic sparrows, right now Hook is fighting Jack Sparrow, and I've got a huge bet on the duel. I can't be here! Sayonara!
The End?