A Heartfelt Plea

In 1752, my great-great-great-great-great grandfather, Frederick Worth Spendley, an accountant for the import-export firm of Chadwicke-Fortwright out of Liverpool, England, was killed in the port city of Kingston, Jamaica.  His main duty was overseeing Caribbean imports, mostly in nearby Wirral, but on occasion he would travel abroad to untangle and unwind the company’s far-reaching affairs.  In this instance, he was 4,500 miles away from his family and his home on an eight-month tour of duty to negotiate a rum (what else?) importing contract with one of the island’s largest brewers.  He could expect to have four month’s paid leave upon returning to his native country.

Unfortunately, that was not to pass. 

On the night of May 7, three sails under the command of the notorious brigand Charles Lowe (“Black-hearted Charlie”) drifted silently into Kingston Bay.  Over fifty of Charlie’s marauders fell upon the docks in the dark with money, murder, and mayhem on their minds.  Nearly half would fall, thanks to a quick response from the local guardhouse.  But not before the HMS Silverrod was ransacked, put to the flame, and sunk.  My great-great-great-great-great grandfather was among the lost.

Now, as a descendent of a victim of a pirate attack, I demand that the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and Oakland Raiders change their insensitive, hurtful names!