THE CORSAIR COWBOY

Blackbeard. Calico Jack. William Kidd. Henry Morgan. Basil Hood. These are just a few of the names of infamous cutthroat captains who terrorized the seas during the golden age of piracy.

Uh, wait a minute--perhaps Basil Hood does not truly belong in the pantheon of pirate greats after all. To appreciate Hood's achievements, one must first be aware that despite common tropes in movies and books about buccaneers, these nautical robbers did not confine their plunder merely to gold, silver, jewels, and ransomable noblepersons (in fact, Blackbeard's last haul was a chest of medical supplies for his venereal disease-ridden crew). Any merchantable commodity was fair game, including items such as sugar, lumber, and hides--although precious metals and jewels were of course never rejected should the opportunity to secure them present itself. 

Basil Hood decided to dabble in stealing hides--however, he unfortunately chose to take them while they were still being used by their original owners. In other words, Hood aspired to be a cattle rustler. In 1713, he and his crew went ashore and seized a herd of bovines from some very surprised and unresisting farmers and drove them (the cattle, that is--not the farmers) into the hold of his ship with the intent of transporting and selling them at the next port-of-call.

Unfortunately, had Hook had more experience with cattle, he would have known right off that these were not healthy specimens. Instead, he found himself on a vessel with some very sick cows--cows which manifested their illness both by  constant vomiting and diarrhea. And not just a little vomiting or diarrhea--instead, huge quantities described as being ejected with "volcanic" force. Hood and his crew were suffering similar symptoms after being exposed to the terrible miasma emanating from the hold.

In the midst of all this, a British frigate appeared over the horizon. Normally, pirates did not greet British warships with approbation, as no good could come from such an encounter. However, Hood's crew was in no condition to fight,  and they were warming to the concept of some peaceful time in confinement without the aroma of cow vomit and feces--even with the knowledge that said confinement would ultimately be terminated by the hangman's noose. Consequently, Hood surrendered his crew and ship. Well, at least he tried to. Once the fastidious frigate commander got upwind of the stench radiating from the festering vessel, he forwent the aromatic prize, abandoned his pursuit, and turned away. Hood was left to go his merry way and in fact was able eventually to dock and sell the pungent livestock--probably while muttering "enough of this BS."