Thomas James has ordered his White Band flotilla, composed of blockade runners and privateering vessels, to earn him yet another fortune. Only the U.S. Navy stands between him and this elusive pot of gold at the rainbow's end. All he needs do is whup the tarnation out of Commodore Porter's Mississippi Squadron of ironclad gunboats then engage in battle with Commodore Farragut's Gulf Squadron of 44-gun steam frigates armed with 100-pound rifled ordinance. Good luck, but nobody at Maurice's Gaming Parlor at New Orleans is laying any bets that you'll win. Your sons may have borrowed some of your famous luck deep inside bayou country, but you'd best go and reclaim every last morsel of your bon afortunada because you are gonna need every bit of good luck that you can beg, borrow, or steal. Absent such a miracle you will soon fry in Hades alongside dozens of your former enemies that you, "Damned to hell in a hand-basket!" However, before you hoist anchor and put out to sea, you'd best start kissing your sweeties goodbye. By the time you can kiss and run from your seven legitimate wives, you'll need to kiss and say bye to your concubines, mistresses, and slave girls as well as the many children they've born you over the years. Good thing you finally completed your last will and testament, n'est ce pas?