My father told me this story when I was very young.
In 1689, a schooner sailed from England to the New
World with an old Spaniard on the crew, an expert
with ropes and knots. As the ship sailed past the
coast of Greenland, the Scottish captain spied
through his glass a beautiful Portuguese woman
suffering lashings under a whip. Thinking of the
Spaniard the crew hove to, swooped down on the
woman's aggressor and claimed her for the old man.
The Spaniard tied the rogue Greenlander to a rock
where he was soon pecked to bits by a giant bird.
Once aboard, the woman gorged herself with linguica
and washed it down with fresh milk from one of the
swine on board. As the woman grew accustomed to life
on the sea, she picked up a guitar belonging to one
of the sailors. Plucking away, she sang a song that
lulled all the sailors from their work. The Spaniard
fell in love with her watching and listening from
the mizzenmast. She returned his love. These were my
great, great, great grandparents, the first to come