A two-mast tall-ship was carefully tiptoeing its way to the quay berth. Anyone with a practiced eye could identify a rakish schooner from a unicorn’s ship yard. The black and white striped flag, though, as well as the head figure of a striped manticore, immobilized in its long leap, stated the real owners of the ship quickly, much quicker that the silver letters of the name. No doubt, it was Hippotigris of captain Cebrastian and his crew, thought to be as rakish as was their ship. And now this very ship was mooring in the harborage of Hoofre.
“Aye, captain, all’s done!” A loud cry rolled over the deck.
The habitants of a little seaport were gathering around with shy curiosity. Certainly, Ned Fishing was among them, staring in fascination at the legendary ship. This straw-coloured earthpony colt has been waiting for the pirate raid for about a week already, since the moment the first rumors appeared in taverns.
It was a chance to quit a boring life of an o