Its January 1st, 1921, and through sea mist, howling winds, and rain of a ‘nor easter’ ravaging Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, a lone watchman stands lookout upon the dark and turbulent Diamond Shoals, known as the graveyard of ships.  As dawn approaches, out of the squall a large shape looms from the southeast and a young ‘Surfman', tired, wet, and with chattering teeth can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“Ke’pr Miller!  Ke’pr Miller!!!” He screams, “By God Ke’pr Miller! Thar’s a large vessel stuck hard on the sholes!!!  At least a three master!!!”

Miller, the Lighthouse Keeper, fully in his cups, pushes him aside, squinting though his glass, “Good God!  It’s a five mast’r ev’r I’ve seen one!  Go below lad and ring the alarm and get all the boys ta station!!!”  But, as the young Surfman runs down the ladder, Miller spies something aft of the wheelhouse…  “Is tha… No.  That’d be daft…  I must be drunker than I thought.  Wait…  NO, IT IS!  A glowing peg legged pirate???”

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