THE URBANICITY GAZETTE
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FREE FOOD, IMPOSSIBLE PRICES, AND THE CARD OF MEMBERSHIP: WHAT EVERY PIRATE NEEDS TO KNOW ABOUT BOLLARD ROW
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By Alexandre Exquemelin
Filed from: Bollard Row

—— When Glassmouth described a warehouse where food is given freely and whole chickens cost less than a pint of ale, we assumed drink was involved. We were wrong. Mostly. ——

The account that follows has been assembled from no fewer than three separate tellings, each differing materially from the last in ways that suggest either an establishment of genuinely bewildering nature, or a conspiracy of liars of extraordinary coordination.

According to Glassmouth, the expedition commenced at approximately ten bells of the morning watch, when a harbour contact suggested that Bollard Row might serve their provisioning needs. The establishment — situated in a district of the colonies known for its broad avenues and horseless carriages — required proof of membership before entry. 'Glassmouth presented credentials,' our source confirms, 'and was admitted through gates guarded by sentries in crimson waistcoats.'

What followed, if the accounts are to be trusted, was an odyssey of consumption that lasted the better part of three hours.

The matter of the free samples deserves particular attention, as it has become the most contested element of the narrative. Glassmouth's original account mentions 'several small offerings of food' available throughout the establishment. By the second retelling, this had become 'a banquet distributed across twenty stations.' By the time the story reached this gazette's offices, the samples had been elevated to 'a feast rivalling the Governor's table at Christmastide, offered to any who possessed the fortitude to circle the aisles repeatedly.'

Our correspondent can confirm only that free food was distributed, that Glassmouth consumed a quantity of it, and that at least one altercation occurred at or near a sample station, the details of which vary irreconcilably between sources.

The purchases themselves require enumeration, though the list varies between tellings:

• One (1) barrel of spirits, branded 'Kirkland,' of uncertain provenance but reportedly excellent quality
• Forty-eight (48) ship's biscuits, locally termed 'muffins,' of a sweetness suggesting Continental influence
• One (1) roasted chicken, whole, at a price so low as to suggest either charitable intent or dark sorcery
• One (1) 'patio furniture set' — the purpose of which remains unclear, though Glassmouth describes it as 'the finest hammock arrangement yet devised'
• Sundry additional items, the exact inventory of which changes with each telling and has included, at various points: a portable forge, four hundred eggs, a decorative anchor, and something described only as 'the big Kirkland thing'

The total expenditure is reported as somewhere between 180 and 400 doubloons, depending on the source. Glassmouth maintains — with considerable emotion — that they 'saved' money, a claim this gazette presents without endorsement.

Your correspondent notes, in closing, that Bollard Row has been visited by no fewer than six separate pirate parties in recent weeks, each returning with similar accounts of impossible abundance and economically impossible chickens. Whether this establishment represents a genuine advance in colonial commerce, an elaborate trap for the gullible, or — as one elder captain darkly suggests — 'a siren's call in architectural form, designed to separate a sailor from his doubloons through the witchcraft of perceived savings,' remains a matter for future investigation.

This gazette will continue to monitor developments.

— Alexandre Exquemelin, writing from the offices of The Urbanicity Gazette