Captain Clara sat and watched
The rain clouds race across the sky.
The sails were down, but her crew were ready
To set and make the Gold Lamb fly.
The Lamb was the fastest ship she'd sailed,
Light and frisky on the waves.
She could outrun any of the Spanish fleet,
And very rarely misbehaved.
She was born to skip the surging crests
Chasing a caravel or cog,
And at the helm Clara stood,
A young cat, not an old sea dog.
She'd built a reputation
For the speed at which she struck,
With a knack for being in the right place
That was more than just blind luck.
Like a swallow on a silent lake
She'd flit down at her prey,
And before they knew what hit them
She'd already sailed away.
But today the wind was changing,
For the first time she felt fear.
Sent to catch El Rey Diablo
And his ship, The Bloody Spear.
...
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