Greenbeard (9781935259220) by Richard James Bentley

Earth, hah-har! Consider the fish-market. Iffen yez has a ton o’ fish here, then it be the same as a ton o’ fish there, providin’ all else be equal, so yez don’t needs to send a ton of fish if yer can transfer ownership, and then it be fungible , d’ye see? Iffen the one ton of fish there were old and stinky, then it would not be fungible , would it? Not being the same for purposes o’ trade, d’yez sees? That be the problem with fish, o’ course, it do stink arter a few short days, then it be not fungible , it be olfactible , har-har-har! But there be things that do not stink arter a few short days. ‘Like what?’ sez ye. I could say iron, but then iron do rust, not in days, mebbe, but surely with years. Copper? Copper do not rust, so it do stay fungible , but it ain’t worth a vast amount. Now yez sees where I be headed! Gold! Gold be the most fungible of all things. Iffen yer takes an ounce o’ gold and puts it in a bank, then yez goes back later an’ takes it out again it do not matter if it is not the same ounce of gold, only if it be the same weight and the same fineness, and yez can test gold easily with yer teeth, as yez all knows, or on a touchstone. Ah! Gold! Yez all loves gold, but yez forgets that it is fungible , so yez do! A chest o’ gold buried on a distant isle has not lost its value , but it has lost its fungibility as ye cannot spend it. The only way to return the fungibility is to have a treasure map - har-har-har, that perked summa yez up! - but that be just a piece o’ paper, an’ who knows iffen it tells the truth? A note upon a bank, d’yez see, to be paid in gold, is better than a treasure map. It still be a piece o’ paper, but the gold is more likely to be real. And the chest is not buried on an island, no, shipmates, it is as though that chest o’ gold was buried right under yer feet and followed yez around, always right under yer feet, fungible d’ye see? Nice and handy when yer needs it, but nicely out of sight when yez do not.”

    Blue Peter observed that roughly one third of the crew were intent upon the Captain’s words, brows furrowed. Another third were paying attention, but looked a little bewildered. The final third seemed to be in a waking coma, their mouths open, their eyes wandering.
    â€œSo when I gives each o’ yez a letter such as this,” Captain Greybagges held up a square of paper, “yez must regard it as a treasure map! And it is a treasure map, for it will take yez to the offices o’ the Bank o’ International Export - my bank, your bank, our bank, which we all owns - where yez will find two hundred and fifty golden guineas held there in yer very own personal account. Yer very own little treasure chest under yer very own feet at all times. Now what does yez think of that?”
    There was a rumble of approval from the crew. A low rumble of qualified approval, but nevertheless a rumble.
    â€œNow iffen yez is daft when ye does that, yer will draw out the whole nut and get robbed in the first tavern or bawdy-house that yer sees, and my wise words to yez this day will have been wasted. If yez is smart yer will take out enough for a shant and some fun, enough to buy yer missus or yer tart a new dress, enough to put shoes on yer sister’s weans, even, but leave the rest under yer feet for the next day, an’ the day arter that. That’d be the sharp way, shipmates.”
    The Captain folded his arms and beamed at them for a few seconds.
    â€œNow, shipmates, I’ll be giving yez these papers in the Port o’ London, and any of yuz that wishes to shake hands and bid goodbye to the buccaneering life may do so then, an’ I will buys yer a drink afore yer goes an’ no hard feelin’s. Some of yez will wish to sign up for another cruise, an’ yer may do that, too, but until then we are finished with freebooting. From now on we are a innocent