"That is the Cap," Frongillo tells four pirates, some swallowing hash browns. "You are all on notice. You are to know the 32 points of the compass for next time."

Frongillo, who met Dorman at the roller derby, has RIPP's logo — an hour glass, the death's head, and three drops of blood (translation: "Your time has come, death and bloodshed to follow") — tattooed on his right bicep. He nominated Dorman as "captain for life" at a recent meeting. The vote was unanimous.

Though he rarely sees "the Cap" partying anymore, Lapan says Dorman recently arrived at a club wearing a three-piece tweed suit, "looking straight out of the fucking twenties.

"We're all fucking dorks, but Casey is a dork with class."

The outside world does not necessarily share the assessment. Dorman still gets bullied in public like a Comic-Con goer, constantly subject to "Arrr" jokes. But broader validation, it seems, is coming.

After we leave Coffee Exchange, Dorman sits on a stone slab atop the steps of India Point Park to rest his marlinspike and light another Camel. He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a folded piece of paper always at the ready.

It is a ceremonial letter of marque, signed by Governor Lincoln Chafee in April, providing RIPP a state privateering commission. It's the first decree of its kind since the War of 1812.

The letter of marque permits RIPP to "arm, furnish, and equip" in the name of piratical education statewide. Dorman recites the exact words aloud. "I made sure to leave that in there, that we can educate by force if need be," he says.

And with that, Dorman shakes hands, takes another drag of his cigarette, and hops on his motorcycle — waistcoat flapping in the breeze — to ride to the sea.

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