A Spanish galleon was cruising the Caribbean when a young sailor came charging up from the crow’s nest, eyes wide with panic:
“Captain! Captain! An enemy ship approaches!”
The crew froze, tension washing over them as they awaited their leader’s orders.
However, the captian remained unmoved, not a hint of fear in his chiseled features.
“Remain calm,” he said coolly. “Bring me my red shirt.”
The young sailor blinked in confusion but knew better than to question the captain’s cryptic request.
He scurried off to retrieve the vibrant red shirt from the Captain’s quarters.
As the enemy ship emerged from the morning fog banks, cannons blasting, the Captain strode stoically across the deck, removing his traditional white linen shirt and donning the crimson garment.
With a curt nod, he signaled his men to return fire.
An apocalyptic barrage of cannon rounds shook the seas as the two ships savagely exchanged fire.
Fire, smoke and splintered timber filled the air.
For what seemed like an eternity, the battle raged, each crew fighting with every ounce of bloody resolve.
At last, the deafening roar fell silent as the enemy’s flag was torn asunder – the Captain had emerged victorious.
As the Captain’s men roared in triumph, the young sailor who fetched the shirt approached his captain inquisitively.
“Congratulations, my captain,” he offered breathlessly. “But why did you need the red shirt?”
Ramirez straightened his crimson collar, a wry smile crossing his lips.
“I wore a red shirt to hide the blood in case I was shot. I did not want my men to see me bleeding and lose their morale and hope.”
The sailor’s eyes widened in admiration at his captain’s shrewd forethought and bravery.
But just then, another crewman came rushing over, panic etched across his brow.
“Captain! Captain!” the man wheezed. “We spot another twenty enemy ships on the horizon!”
An audible gasp went up from the crew as all eyes turned to Captain.
The slightest bead of sweat could be seen forming on his brow as the weight of the situation dawned on him.
But after a moment’s pause, he simply gave a slight nod.
“Very well,” he said resolutely. “Bring me my yellow pants.”
