‘Late’ Jack McGraw, the infamous 18th Century pirate, miraculously reappeared with his ship, The Abeyance, on South Beach in Lowestoft on Tuesday, 314 years after going missing, presumed lost at sea.
Stunned onlookers milling around Triton’s statue on the Esplanade,.stood aghast as the maidenhead of The Abeyance gradually came into view through the thick,.grey mist rolling off the North Sea. Weighing anchor, and disembarking into a launch, the ghostly figure of Late Jack rowed effortlessly to the beach,.before stepping onto dry land for the first time in over three centuries.
Two pirates of the Caribbean
In the decade between 1709-1720, McGraw, Blackbeard, and… err?… some other not-so-well-known pirates,.terrorised the hapless seafarers who dared venture into the Caribbean Sea betwixt the islands of the West Indies,.and the eastern coast of North America.
McGraw, who was born in 1685 in the seaside town of Pakefield, East Suffolk,. never gained the enduring notoriety of legendary pirating superstar, Blackbeard,.due to the fact that he was always late to the plundering of the bountiful vessels he pursued.– usually catching up with them a few hours after Blackbeard had made off with the booty (hence the nickname ‘Late’ Jack McGraw). And whereas top seadog, Blackbeard used to burn candles in his beard to terrify and disorientate his victims,.Jack’s chosen method of intimidation was to board ships with a betwattled seagull tied to the ends of his long, tangled, white hair, creating pandemonium as it shat and squawked over all and sundry. All this while Jack searched in vain for a few measly, remaining pieces of eight.
Better late than never
To gasps of incredulity, Late Jack, staggered along the pebble beach, carefully sidestepping modern,.never-before-seen twisted fag butts and rusty drinks cans. A small crowd, including children playing with plastic cutlasses, gathered, as he crunched his way towards the nearby Jolly Sailors pub and restaurant (Coley wrapped In Parma Ham, with wild mushroom & gnocchi cream – £17). Kicking the door open with the sole of his thigh-length pirates’ boots, Jack stumbled into the pub, causing customers to retreat in terror. After surveying his surroundings, the salt-dried, sea-bandit approached the bar and clobbered it with the yin of his fist. A cloud of dust, salt, and seaweed particles puffed into the air, causing the barman to cough and wipe his eyes.
“Grrrrrrrrrrrr,” mumbled Jack, as he gestured with a long, boney, emerald-ringed finger towards a bottle of Sailor Jerry Spiced Rum on the shelf opposite.
“Sorry. We’re just about to close,” replied the barman.
