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Post by Ghost on Aug 1, 2009 11:05:16 GMT -5
I was working on this when they revamped the CT story forum. Since I'd never finished it, I thought I'd pick it up again on here. This is as far as I'd gotten on the official site. (I still can't figure out how to upload the map of the island. *sigh*)
IRISH PIRATES: THE DEVIL'S ISLAND ADVENTURE
Parts One and Two
Back in the days when pirates weren't romanticized yet, when buried treasure was a rarity, and when merchant ships were fearsome things to behold, two enterprising people joined forces to make a shipbuilding company.
Shortly after Browne & Coulter opened its doors, its first ship set sail in the Caribbean. The crew was led by the esteemed Captain George Donaldson.
One day, after the Rolling Thunder had set sail from Port Royal, the sea was calm. The various members of Captain Donaldson's crew lounged about the ship. Neil had somehow managed to drag his guitar into the crow's nest and was strumming idly. Declan manned the helm, not that it was entirely necessary. Swanky Paul and blonde Keith were at the stern, sharing a rum or three and swapping manly stories. The captain's son, a bright-eyed youth named Damian, stood at the bow with his father.
"Tell me again why we're going to Devil's Island, Father," Damian said.
"Because, my boy, life is an ocean. And what better way to experience it than on a voyage for buried treasure?"
"Okay… I think I'm going to go see what Keith and Paul are doing," Damian replied. He headed for the stern.
Paul sat hunched over on the bulwark, balanced precariously as he dangled his legs over the stern. Keith leaned on the railing beside him, holding Paul's empty mug of rum and taking a swig from his own.
"Just don't jump," Keith was saying. "That would be really sickening."
"But Keith," Paul sighed, "don't you see? She was everything to me! She was the reason I survived!"
"So now you're going to kill yourself? That's great craic."
Paul cast him an evil glare.
Damian interrupted, "What's going on here?"
"Nothing," Keith answered. "Paul's girlfriend just dumped him back in Tortuga, that's all."
"Zara? Why would she do that?"
Paul heaved a deep sigh and replied, "She left me for that scallywag Ryan. Ryan! What a traitor. If I ever get my hands on him..."
Keith shook his head. "You'll never get your hands on him, Paul. Stop building castles in the air."
"But Paul," Damian said. "I thought you were going to marry her!"
Paul looked at young Damian and said, "Damian, you're very young."
Keith sighed dramatically. "Very young, and unskilled in the matters of the heart," he added as he clanked his mug of rum to his heart.
"Oh, shut up," Paul and Damian said simultaneously.
Keith just grinned.
"Land, ho!" Neil shouted from the crow's nest.
Keith, Damian, and Paul rushed to the front of the ship, where Captain Donaldson was putting his telescope to his eye.
"Aye, there be Devil's Island!"
The others crowded around him, trying to see the island on the horizon. Damian unsuccessfully tried to take the telescope from his father.
"Now, hold on, crew," the captain said. "We're going to drop the anchor when we reach the island. Man your stations!"
The men followed orders, bantering back and forth as they did.
When the ship was moored, Captain Donaldson gathered his crew. "Declan and Neil, you stay with me on the ship. Paul, I want you to go with Damian and Keith. Take the boat and scout out the island. And be quick about it."
"Right. We'll take the dinghy," Paul replied.
"The boat."
Keith said, "You mean the dinghy."
"Yes. The boat."
"Father," Damian interrupted, "I'm pretty sure that it's a dinghy."
"Love is a boat!" the captain cried in exasperation.
The crew fell silent and exchanged glances.
Keith finally chuckled and said, "You named the dinghy?"
"Yes, I named the dinghy… boat... Would you just go before someone else steals our treasure?"
As Paul climbed into the dinghy after Damian and Keith, he turned back. "But aren't we stealing it in the first place?"
"Just go!" Captain Donaldson shouted.
Declan and Neil lowered the dinghy wordlessly, avoiding Paul's quirky eyebrows and Keith's smirks.
The sun was sinking below the horizon when Neil spotted the dinghy returning to the Rolling Thunder.
Captain Donaldson immediately put down his rum and went on deck. He could see that Keith was rowing the boat, and that Paul sat in the front.
"Where's my son?"
The dinghy was within hearing range now. Paul was shouting something at Keith, who appeared to be ignoring him completely.
"Why isn't Damian in the boat?" the captain asked the air. "Did they leave him on the island? No. Why would they do something like that? Where is he?"
Paul's words reached their ears. He was yelling, "Row faster, Keith!"
"I am!" Keith retorted.
"Good Lord," Paul continued, still shouting. "The man doesn't even have a beard! No beard, Keith! How on earth did he earn that nickname?"
Keith didn't answer.
"Who doesn't have a beard?" Declan muttered to Neil, who had come down from the crow's nest.
Neil shrugged.
Paul went on and on about the beard, or lack thereof, until Keith rowed the dinghy up to the ship.
The captain and his remaining crewmen rushed to that side of the ship.
"Where's Damian?" Captain Donaldson asked.
Neil and Declan began to pull up the dinghy.
"Captain!" Paul said. "You're never going to believe this! Guess who else is on the island?"
"Who?" the captain asked as his two crewmen climbed out of the dinghy and onto the deck.
"Darkbeard the Destroyer," Keith said.
"Exactly!" Paul continued. "And do you know who he really is? Ryan!"
"Ryan?" Captain Donaldson repeated. "What's he got to do with this?"
"Don't you see?" Paul exclaimed. "Ryan is Darkbeard the Destroyer!"
"Ryan's a pirate?" Neil and Declan said simultaneously.
"But," Captain Donaldson interjected, "he doesn't even have a beard."
"Exactly! How could he earn a name like that without a beard? Darkbeard implies he has a beard! And he doesn't! The rascal."
"Arr," Keith groaned. "Now you've got him started."
"Darkbeard the Destroyer," Paul continued. "Ha! More like Darkhead the Backstabbing Woman Thief."
"That'll never work, mate," Keith said. "It's far too long."
"It describes him perfectly!"
"What is it with you and Ryan's beard? The whole way back from the island, all you could talk about was the man's beardlessness!"
"Man?" Paul sniffed. "He's not a man. He's a scallywag and a pirate and a rat."
"Just because he stole your girl—"
"Stop it!" the captain interrupted. "What does any of this have to do with where my son is?"
"Um…" Keith stalled as Paul looked at the deck.
"Would one of you tell me what happened on that blasted island?"
Keith looked at Paul, who sighed and began, "We went to scout out the island, just like you said to. And we discovered that Darkbeard—Ryan—and his crew were there also."
"How did that happen?"
"We ran into them."
"Literally," Keith added. "And then Ryan kidnapped Damian and ran off to his ship. We couldn't catch him."
"What? Did you just say that Ryan kidnapped my son? Why didn't you stop him?"
Keith looked at Paul, who had found something fascinating on the deck beneath his feet. The captain rested one hand on the hilt of his sword and waited for the answer to come.
"Well," Keith said slowly, "Paul and Ryan got into a fight, and Ryan's men took Damian while I was trying to break it up. I didn't know pirates could run so fast."
"Then we must sail after the pirates and rescue my son," Captain Donaldson concluded. "I would sail five hundred miles to find him, and five hundred more if I have to!"
"Actually," his blonde crewman replied, "you won't have to sail at all; the dinghy is all we need. The Heartbreaker is moored off the other side of the island."
Now, night and fog had crept upon them as they discussed these things, and it was quickly becoming too dark to see.
"Good then," the captain said. "Paul, you and I will go now, under the cover of this darkness."
"Don't forget the fog," Paul added.
Keith shrugged, and said, "Well, if you don't need me, I'm going to get myself a rum."
"Light the fog lamps first, crewman."
He nodded and went to do as bid while Paul and Captain Donaldson climbed into the dinghy.
Once the boat hit the water, Paul took up the oars and began to row through the thickening fog.
"Softly, now," the captain said. "We don't want to alert Ryan to our presence."
Paul hissed back, "I'm going softly, Captain—as softly as in the morning sunrise."
And, as silently as he could, he steered the dinghy around the coast of the island to the opposite side. The last they saw of the Rolling Thunder was the fog lamps' glow being swallowed by the haze.
After what felt like hours, Captain Donaldson and his crewman spotted a dim yellow glow through the murky fog.
"There be the pirates," the captain muttered.
Paul continued to row, taking extra care to minimize splash. He took the dinghy right up to the side of the ship—or what they deemed was the side of the ship. The fog was becoming so thick that Captain Donaldson could barely see his crewman sitting in front of him, let alone distinguish one part of a pirate ship from another.
"This is good enough," he said. He made a move to stand up in the boat.
"Um, Captain… What are you doing?"
"Paul. My son is being held captive somewhere on that ship. I have to go and save him!"
"Yes, Captain, I understand that… But shouldn't I be the one to go after him? You're not as—ah—agile as you were in your youth."
"Will you bring him back faster than I would?"
"Of course," Paul answered matter-of-factly.
"Then go. I will be waiting here for you both. And go silently!"
Paul quirked an eyebrow and grinned at him. Then, after putting the oars safely in the dinghy, he moved through the dense fog and started to climb the hull of the pirate ship Heartbreaker.
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Post by Ghost on Aug 1, 2009 11:12:46 GMT -5
Part Three
Paul slowly scaled the hull of the ship, feeling rather than seeing handholds and footholds. The fog enveloped him, pressing on all sides like a thick, damp blanket. It did not take him long to pause, panting from the exertion of the steep ascent. Paul had no idea where he was on the ship's sides. He was unsure how much farther he had to go before he reached the deck. He didn't know how many of Ryan's crewmen were patrolling the ship. He wasn't even sure where the pirates were keeping Damian captive.
He was climbing blind, and he did not like it.
But he pressed on, hauling himself up the side of the ship with renewed strength. He grabbed onto every solid thing his hands touched. And then, finally, his fingers brushed a familiar surface: the ship's bulwark.
"Gotcha," he whispered. Taking care not to clank his weaponry on the wood, he hauled himself over and landed on the deck of the Heartbreaker.
Once he regained his proper footing, he looked around. The motion was as useless as he'd thought it would be; all he could see was grayish white fog. How was he supposed to get below decks and find Damian when he could barely see his hand in front of him? He would mostly likely run into a pirate before he found the stairs.
Clank, clank, clank came the steady beat of footsteps on the deck from somewhere to Paul's left. He could vaguely see a hazy yellow glow bobbing along in the fog.
A dark, familiar voice said, "Give me that lamp and go check on the prisoner. I'll be down soon."
"Ryan," Paul breathed.
There was a shuffling noise as the fog lamp presumably changed hands from the crewman to Ryan. Then footfalls began again, this time going in the direction that Ryan had come from.
Paul tiptoed in the direction of the crewman's footsteps, careful not to make more noise than necessary. He inched his way down the deck.
"Ho!" Ryan suddenly said.
Paul froze.
"Yo, ho, ho…and a bottle of rum. Ah, the pirate's life is the life for me."
Paul, realizing that he had not, in fact, been discovered, continued to creep away from his former comrade.
"What good is being lawful when you can be Darkbeard the Destroyer without even having to wear a beard?"
Paul did his best to ignore this comment, but found himself failing. Then he envisioned what the look on Keith's face would be if the rescue attempt had failed because he, Paul Byrom, could not get over the fact that Darkbeard the Destroyer had no beard.
He shook his head and focused on finding the stairs. Where could they be? The crewman's footfalls had faded somewhere around here, hadn't they?
There! He could see the stairs leading below decks, empty of fog and lit by the soft glow of candlelight.
Paul crept lightly down the stairs, hoping that no one on this deck would see him. He was in luck; there was no one in sight on this level of the ship. Paul skirted around to the next set of stairs and tiptoed down.
"Ryan, I'm not afraid of you," a familiar voice said.
"Damian?" Paul said, jumping the last few steps and stumbling back into balance.
"Paul?" His fellow crewman stood behind the locked bars of the ship's brig. "You're rescuing me?"
"No, I'm not here to rescue you. I'm here to find Zara and take her back. Do you know where I can find her?"
Damian's blue eyes sparkled in the dim light. "The keys are next to your head."
Paul turned, and saw a rusty key ring, holding a large key, hanging from the stair at eye level. He plucked it off the nail and headed to the brig.
"You think he'd make it harder. One key?"
"Just open it, will you? Ryan will be back soon."
Paul put the key into the lock.
"It creaks, so be care—"
With an ear-splitting grating noise, the key turned the lock back.
"Shhh."
Paul gave Damian a look that said, "Do you want me to rescue you or not?"
Footsteps sounded on the stairs on the deck above.
"Someone's coming," Damian hissed.
Without thinking, Paul darted to the stairs, put the key ring back on its nail, and rushed into the brig, shutting the door behind him.
"What are you doing?" Damian whispered as the footsteps grew louder and closer.
"Hiding, obviously," Paul replied, and threw himself into a ball in the corner. "Cover me with something, dang it!"
Damian looked around helplessly and tossed the closest thing he could find onto Paul. It was an old, dark blue blanket that barely covered Paul and left the tips of his boots sticking out from underneath.
"He's going to know you're under there!"
"This thing stinks! What did they do, have a dog pee on it?"
Damian kicked him and then sat on top of him, just as a pair of black boots came tramping down the stairs.
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Post by Ghost on Aug 1, 2009 11:20:05 GMT -5
Part Four
The boots were followed by a black-clad figure wearing a long black coat that reached his knees. He bristled with pistols and swords, and a dark grin spread across his face. His eyes glinted in the dim light.
"I'm not afraid of you, Ryan," Damian said as he crossed his arms.
"I see you finally moved."
Damian shrugged. "My legs are tired."
Ryan looked suspiciously at the dark blue lump underneath the prisoner and came closer to the bars. "What are you sitting on?"
"What, this?" Damian kicked at the blanket, which jerked and then moved back. "It smells and feels like a pile of rags. It's pretty swanky, actually."
Ryan glowered. "We're going to have to find a better place to put them. Prisoners aren't supposed to be comfortable."
"No worries then. I'm not, I promise. Did you throw a broken barrel in with the rags? Something's poking me." Damian kicked again at the lump underneath him.
Paul hissed so only Damian could hear, "Something's poking you? I'll give you something to complain about."
Ryan was about to speak when Damian yelped and shot up. The pirate reached for his pistol.
"Whoa," Damian said as he rubbed his lower back. "I'm gonna—I mean, I think I leaned back on a nail."
Ryan frowned, turning his features into a dark, mysterious, dangerous expression.
"I know that you want our treasure," the younger man continued, "but why did you kidnap me? You fought with us in the war!"
"Listen, matey, you're very young, and there are a couple of things that you're going to have to learn. One of those is that treasure is more important than anything else. The other is that women will destroy you and make you their slaves, if you let them."
A muffled grunt came from under the blanket.
"What was that?"
Damian cleared his throat and then coughed. "Huh?"
"Never mind," Ryan said as his eyes narrowed. "Be careful what you do. Every breath you take, every move you make, I'll be watching you."
Damian took a step forward as Ryan turned away. He snapped his head around and said, "I saw that."
Then he continued to the stairs and climbed them. When his head was out of sight, he bent back down to say, "You want to know why I kidnapped you? Because sooner or later, they will come for you—and I want to see their expressions as I go back home to Zara with the treasure they were after."
"That's it!" Paul cried, and throwing off the dirty old blanket, leaped to his feet.
"Paul!" Ryan exclaimed.
"Run for it, Damian!"
Damian threw open the door to the brig and, grabbing the first coil of rope he saw, blew past the stunned Ryan. Paul followed right behind, giving Ryan a good punch in the arm as he ran.
That jerked Ryan out of his shock. He took the stairs two at a time, but he had lost time that he couldn't make up. His enemies' feet thudded on the stairs, just inside his line of vision, as they raced to run away.
"After them!" the black-clad pirate shouted as he stumbled onto the main deck.
Paul shouted for Captain Donaldson. Damian was not two feet ahead, running as fast as he dared in the dense fog, feeling his way along the bulwark. The clattering of boots and weaponry resounded along the ship as the pirates scrambled to find the escapees.
"I'm here!" Captain Donaldson's voice yelled from somewhere below them.
Paul yanked the coil of rope out of Damian's hands, hastily tying one end around his waist. "Go, Damian! I'll hold the rope for you! Go!"
He tossed the other end of the rope over the bulwark, and it hit the wood with a satisfying smack.
"Find them, blast it!" Ryan was bellowing over the din. "They're still on this ship!"
Damian clambered onto the bulwark, holding tightly to the rope.
"Hurry up," Paul hissed as the noise of the pirates grew closer. "They're going to find us!"
His young companion nodded and dropped into the haze. The sudden weight surprised Paul, slamming him into the bulwark and knocking the wind out of him. Damian had disappeared into the fog.
"He weighs a lot for someone so thin," Paul grumbled.
"You are the most incompetent crew I've ever had!" Ryan barked. "Follow the sound of their voices!"
Ryan's own voice was getting dangerously close to where Paul had braced himself against Damian's weight.
"Come on, come on," he muttered through clenched teeth.
There was a thud, and the weight on the rope suddenly lifted. Paul quickly untied the rope from his waist, his blood pounding in his ears.
"They're over here!" Ryan hollered.
No use trying to be quiet now.
"I'm jumping!" Paul shouted into the fog.
"You'll miss the boat!" Captain Donaldson yelled back.
"I never do!"
He climbed onto the bulwark and hesitated. He had never leaped into a fog, let alone one this thick.
"Aha!" Ryan said as he appeared out of the murky whiteness. "Gotcha!"
Paul leaped. Ryan jumped a split second later and staggered into the bulwark, clutching at the empty air where Paul had been. There was a loud splash. The water was silent. Then Paul came coughing and spluttering out of the water.
"Quickly, Paul," Captain Donaldson said through the fog. "Over here!"
Paul thrashed his way toward his captain's voice.
"Watch out; the boat's—"
Thump, Paul's arm connected with the dinghy. He groaned, and struggled to drag himself into the boat. It nearly capsized and sent the other two flying, which would not have been a good sight to see. (Not that anything was visible in this fog.) "Oars?" Paul asked once he sat down.
Captain Donaldson replied, "Where they belong. Ready to go."
Paul felt for the oars, found them, and started to row.
"Let's steal away," Damian said, "and hope they never find us."
"Too late for that," Paul retorted.
They could hear Ryan back on the pirate ship, exploding at his men. "The first thing I'm going to do when I get back to Tortuga is get a new crew! … No, we are not going after them! … Why? Because we can't see a thing in this fog, that's why! We'd run aground before we found them."
As Paul continued to row, the sounds of the Heartbreaker faded away into the haze.
"What happened on the ship?" Captain Donaldson asked. "I told you to be quiet!"
Damian answered, "Ryan came down to our deck before we could escape, so Paul hid."
"And you better appreciate the fact that I didn't just run. I'll never forget the smell of that blanket…"
Damian ignored him and continued. "It was okay until Ryan made a comment about Zara."
"What? Paul, you need to learn to control yourself when it comes to women."
He snorted in reply.
"Father," Damian said as they left the Heartbreaker in the murkiness behind them, "why aren't you rowing the boat?"
"Because, son, I'm the captain of the ship. It's not my job to row the boat."
Paul muttered, "His job is to make us all do his job for him."
Damian snickered.
"Paul, don't you go about poisoning my son with your nonsense."
"Too late for that, Captain." There was a grin in Paul's voice.
They continued in silence, the dinghy gliding smoothly through the fog toward the Rolling Thunder. There was nothing but whiteness on all sides around them. No yellow haze from distant fog lamps, no moonlight or starlight, no hint of the eastern shore of the Devil's Island. Just fog.
After a long time of unbroken silence, Paul figured that they were nearing their ship. But how could he be sure?
"Damian," he said. "Make yourself useful and light the fog lamp."
His fellow crewman, invisible in the haze, clattered through the equipment at the front of the dinghy.
"Can you see the ship at all?"
"No… I'm going to move over—"
There was a plopping noise, and then a splash of water hit the boat. Paul peered into the fog in Damian's direction, but could see nothing.
"Damian?"
Silence.
"Did you drop the fog lamp into the water?"
Silence.
"Damian, are you still in the dinghy?"
Silence.
Paul lifted one of the oars and swung it toward the front of the boat. It thwacked against something.
"Aaaaargh! Why did you do that, Paul?"
"I wasn't sure you were there," he replied as he dipped the oar back into the sea.
"You didn't have to hit me with an oar."
Captain Donaldson interrupted, "Paul, what did you do to my son?"
"Damian," Paul said, ignoring the captain, "can you see anything?"
"I can't even see you! How am I supposed to see the ship?"
Paul shook his head. "We'll have to try something else, then."
"Okay… KEITH! Keith! Can you hear me?" Damian shouted.
"Shut up! That is not what I meant!"
They paused for a few moments.
"KEITH!" Damian repeated.
"KEITH!" Paul shouted. "Anyone on the Rolling Thunder!!!"
The captain's voice said from the back of the boat, "I'll have you know that you both sound like idiots."
"Is someone calling me?" Keith's voice came through the fog. "Paul? DAMIAN?"
"Hey, we're pretty close," Paul said to Damian.
Captain Donaldson sighed. "'Tis a good thing the pirates can't see us."
His two crewmen were shouting, "Over here, Keith! Toss us the rope!"
Silence for a few seconds, and then Keith yelled, "I don't even know which side of the boat you're on!"
Paul rolled his eyes. "The side our voices are coming from!"
There was another silence. Then Keith shouted, "I still can't see you!"
The captain muttered, "They'd know how incompetent my crew is, if they were anywhere near here."
"Just throw the rope!" Paul answered.
"Fine," Keith said.
The rope splashed softly into the water on the right side of the dinghy.
"Can you reach it, Damian?"
"I can't see a thing…"
The small boat rocked slightly as Damian leaned over, running his hand through the water as he tried to find the rope.
"Did you find it?"
"No."
"Paul," the captain said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "try using your oar."
Paul stretched the oar as far as he could, and slowly dragged it back toward the boat. It caught on the rope. Damian, still leaning over the side, caught the dripping rope in his hand and pulled it into the boat.
"We got it!" Paul shouted. He added to Damian, "Hold on tight to that."
With a quick tug, the crewmen on the Rolling Thunder pulled the dinghy up to the side of the ship.
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Post by Ghost on Aug 1, 2009 11:28:43 GMT -5
Parts Five and Six
The crewmen on deck hauled up the dinghy.
"Glad to see you're back, Damian," Keith called down.
"You mean hear!"
"See, hear, it's all the—oops."
"Oops what?" Captain Donaldson asked.
There was a splatting noise. Then Paul cried out and jumped in his seat, causing the dinghy to rock dangerously.
"Watch it, Paul!" Damian yelled. "I don't want to fall overboard!"
Paul ignored him, instead slapping at the shoulder of his shirt, which was now covered in a sticky brown liquid. The dinghy steadied.
"Sorry!" Keith shouted. "I let some rum spill, there! Won't happen again!"
"It better not," Paul grumbled. "Of course it would fall on me."
By this time, the dinghy was close enough to stop lifting. Paul clambered out of the boat first, followed by an unsteady Damian and then the captain.
"I am going to kill you," Paul growled as he stalked toward Keith.
"It was just rum!"
"I don't care what it was. This. Is. My. Swankiest. Shirt. Got that?" Paul took another step towards Keith and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.
Keith nodded once, clearly trying to maintain a straight face.
"Argh," Paul said, and shoved his friend aside. "How on earth am I going to win Zara back—or any woman, for that matter—with this shirt ruined?"
"I don't know," Keith replied. "Make her swoon with your eyebrows, or something. They like that."
"Crew!" Captain Donaldson barked. "Get back here!"
They shuffled over.
"Everyone, get below decks. We're not going anywhere until the fog clears. But mark my words," he added as the crew began to leave, "if the fog has cleared by tomorrow morning, we're heading out. Ryan and his pirates won't get our treasure if we can help it. Be prepared to go, in any case."
His crew clambered through the fog to the stairs, heading below decks. Paul said something about getting a rum to spill on Keith in return for the favor, and Declan and Neil decided to join them. Damian just headed for the crew's hammocks, leaving his father on deck for the next watch.
The next morning, Keith arose before the others and swung out of his hammock. Deciding it was probably too early for a round of rum, he headed upstairs.
The morning had dawned bright and beautiful. There was no hint of the previous night's fog, just blue sky, blazing sun, and crystal-clear waters.
Only Declan, whose watch was just ending, was awake. He nodded once to Keith and then went below decks.
Keith thought about getting his guitar from below as he headed for the mast. Climbing the rigging, however, he chose to leave the instrument where it was. After all, it would be hard enough to play it from this location, let alone actually drag it to this height.
So instead, it being a fine morning and there be no captain in sight, Keith swung from the rigging. It was a thrill, it was, having the wind blow through your hair as nothing stood between you and death but the rope clutched in your hands.
"I bleed rum and music!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
No one replied. Unfortunately.
Met with this silence, Keith felt compelled to yell the first thing that came into his head. "Home, far across the sea!"
But this thought sobered him, bringing back memories of old friends' faces, familiar places, and the music he had played way back before he became a sailor. "Home, far across the sea," he repeated in a quieter voice. "Home is where I long to be."
"Keith!" Captain Donaldson bellowed.
He looked down. The captain stood, hands on hips, at the foot of the mast. Paul and Damian were by the bulwark, preparing the dinghy for its next journey.
"Get down here, or we're leaving without ye!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Keith grumbled as he made his way down the rigging. Quickly, he jumped onto the deck and sprinted nimbly to where the dinghy and his companions waited.
"Been climbing the rigging, have you?" Paul said with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Aye, and I saw Ryan doing the same from the Heartbreaker on the other coast. He sends his regards and assures you that the old blanket in the brig will be sent to you as soon as possible."
Paul cuffed him.
"Get in the dinghy," Captain Donaldson ordered.
He climbed in and sat at the back. Paul followed him, but moved to the front. Keith came next, making room for Damian at the oars. Damian, last to go in, checked the back of the dinghy before climbing next to Keith.
"He really did name the dinghy!" Damian said in surprise.
"I told you that Love is a boat," the captain replied as they lowered the dinghy.
After short silence, Paul said, "Hmm. There seems to be much more room up here. I wonder why that is… Oh, right. Damian dropped the fog lamp! How could I forget something as important as that?"
Keith burst into laughter as Damian stared daggers at Paul.
"Shut up! I didn't give us away on the pirate ship."
Paul made no answer. The dinghy reached the waves, and Keith and Damian took up the oars.
"Take us to the island, boys," Captain Donaldson said.
Keith joked, "But I don't want to take you to the island, Captain. And you can trace your own footprints in the sand."
The captain heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Just row, you laggards."
But giving Damian and Keith shared rowing duties turned out to be a match made in heck.
Paul noticed it first; the dinghy turned slightly more to one side because of Keith's longer strokes. But it wasn't until they were midway between the Rolling Thunder and the shore of Devil's Island that things began to go wrong.
Damian, being younger, shorter, and not as strong as Keith, tired faster. The difference in their strokes became obvious as Damian's oar moved smaller amounts of water. The dinghy veered away from the island, turning instead toward the open sea.
Even the boat was parallel to the shore and looked to be turning completely around, neither Keith nor Damian appeared to notice or intend to stop it. In fact, Paul seemed to be the only one aware of what was going on.
"Guys," he said, "the island is that way."
"What?" Keith and Damian asked simultaneously.
Captain Donaldson snapped out of whatever funk he'd fallen into. "Paul's right, mates! Damian, pull harder! Keith, ease up!"
Damian pulled hard on his oar as Keith stopped. Slowly, the dinghy turned back toward Devil's Island. When the boat pointed once again in the proper direction, Keith picked up his oar. But this time, he did not row as strongly as before.
The two rowers concentrated so completely on rowing the boat that they lost all sense of everything else. Captain Donaldson and Paul, however, soon saw that things were turning sour again.
"Now you're going in the other direction," Paul said.
"Keith!"
"Yes, Captain?"
"Put some muscle into it! What good is all that swinging about in the rigging if you can't row hard enough?"
"Aye, Captain!"
And promptly the dinghy came circling around the other way under the force of Keith's strokes.
"No that hard!" Paul shouted. "We're supposed to go toward the island, not away from it!"
Damian struggled to push the boat back on course, and soon succeeded. Then it became apparent that he had struggled too hard.
"Son," Captain Donaldson said as the boat made another circle, "you need to get the Love headed toward the shore, not away from it."
"Which way do you want us to go?" Keith asked as the boat rotated again.
"First it's Keith, then it's me, and then it's Keith again!" Damian agreed. "Which direction is it?"
The captain began, "Actually—"
"Straight!" Paul interjected.
Captain Donaldson shot him a warning look.
Paul ignored him and pressed on. "You have to match your strokes so we're not going in endless circles!"
Both Keith and Damian turned in their seats to glare at him.
"Do you want to do this?" Keith said. It was almost an accusation.
"Yes! Damian, switch with me."
Paul stood, causing the dinghy to tilt alarming in the calm in the water. Keith, Damian, and the captain grabbed at the sides of the boat to keep from pitching headlong into the sea.
"Paul!" Captain Donaldson barked. "Sit down! We'll have none of that, now. Let Damian and Keith figure it out for themselves. How will they learn with you breathing down their necks like that?"
"I'll be old and gray by then," Paul complained. But he sat down anyway, rocking the boat a little more as he did.
Things went more smoothly after that. Paul said no more about the others' rowing abilities, but his eyebrows lost some of their swank. Damian and Keith gritted their teeth and focused on rowing evenly and moving the boat toward Devil's Island. Soon they had the dinghy making its way toward the shore.
The author cannot be sure, but Keith swears that this is when he heard Paul mutter, "Finally."
Whether he did mutter it or not, the dinghy had no further troubles—except for the occasional swerve to either direction. But the boat generally headed toward the shore, and made no more full circles.
The sun was high in the cloudless sky as the dinghy drew near to the shore of Devil's Island. Waves rose and swelled beneath the Love, driving it ever forward and aiding the oarsmen's tiring limbs.
The boat swerved its way into the shallows.
"I can't take it anymore!" Paul cried, and leaped out of the boat into the surf.
His feet connected with the ocean floor, and he staggered forward, fighting the chest-high seawater as he made his slow way out of the sea. The waves rolled against the dinghy and pressed around him, lifting him up and forward.
"You couldn't have waited?" Keith shouted from behind him.
Captain Donaldson added, "Isn't that your second swankiest shirt? It's going to be ruined, too!"
The scene would have been majestic had it not been so comical. Paul rose out of the waves, dripping seawater from all pieces of clothing. Keith and Damian rowed harder in a fruitless effort to beat Paul to the shore, and ended up moving the dinghy about a foot in either direction. Captain Donaldson, in typical fashion, watched everything with an amused expression on his face.
Paul staggered away from the waves and fell flat on his face on the white sand. Damian jumped out of the boat, followed by Keith, and they both dragged it (and the captain) through the waist-high waves toward the shore.
Paul lifted himself to his knees. "Thank you, Lord!" he shouted. "You have brought us safe to shore!"
Keith kicked sand at him as they pulled the boat out of the water.
"Hey! I'm praying, here!"
"That's the most obnoxious prayer I've ever heard," Keith retorted.
Captain Donaldson jumped out of the boat and began to push it from behind as his two useful crewmen struggled to drag it to higher ground.
"Just a little farther, boys," he grunted.
"Don't we have to hide it so the pirates won't steal it?" Damian asked.
His father replied, "It's not as though Ryan is going to want to steal a boat named Love."
At the sound of his rival's name, Paul snapped back to reality. He stood up, dusted as much of the sand as he could off of his soaked clothes, and helped the others with the dinghy.
Captain Donaldson let Paul took over. He moved off to once side and extracted a folded piece of parchment from inside his jacket. The others immediately stopped what they were doing and sprinted across the sand to join him.
"What is that?" Keith asked.
"Obviously it's a map," Paul retorted.
Captain Donaldson pushed them aside with his arms. "Give me some room, will ya?" He unfolded the paper and held it out in front of him. "Aye, 'tis a map of Devil's Island. It'll lead us straight to the treasure."
His crewmen crowded around him again to look at the map. Devil's Island was shaped like a three-leaf clover, its stem curving into a hooked point.
"Now, we came ashore on this side of the island." Captain Donaldson pointed to the bottom shore of the right cloverleaf.
Paul tapped the black X on the middle-left of the heart of island. "And the treasure is buried here, I suppose."
"It's almost straight across the island," Keith concluded.
Damian leaned in closer, saying, "Then we can avoid all of those traps."
"What traps, son?"
"Those." He pointed to the map. "The Desert of Cork north of us. The Mull of Kintyre on Hook's Peninsula to the south. The Land of Ire in the west… And the Moutains of the Morn, too, although I don't think they're a trap."
"I don't think any of them are traps, Damian," the captain said gently. "Except maybe the desert."
"What is that?" Keith exclaimed. He nearly poked a hole through the parchment in his eagerness.
"That? Nothing."
"Surf's Up Beach?!?"
"Keith. The beach is on the eastern shore of the north section of this island. It's completely out of our way."
"But Captain!"
He shot Keith a warning look. "We're not going there, crewman."
"Okay, then what about this Guinness Isle? Can we take a detour there?"
Paul chimed in, "I agree. I think we should check it out. Ryan and his pirates might be there!"
"Men! That isn't even part of this island! It's off the northern coastline! Pull yourselves together."
Paul and Keith sighed and retracted their hands from the map.
"Besides," the captain continued, "The pirates won't know about Guinness Isle. And since we have the map, we can get to the treasure and dig it up before Ryan even figures out where it is."
Paul muttered, "That's why we should go to Guinness Isle first."
"Get the shovels out of the boat, and then we'll go."
They did as told, but Keith grumbled about dying from a lack of sufficient rum intake.
After they had collected the shovels and left the dinghy on high enough ground, Captain Donaldson of the Rolling Thunder and his three crewmen set out in search of the buried treasure.
It was not a difficult journey, as the forest through which they trudged was not very close, nor the undergrowth very thick. Nevertheless, the sun fell steadily as the travelers made progress through the trees.
Their journey was uneventful until the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows and making the forest darker that it really was.
"Stop," Captain Donaldson said suddenly. He pulled up short, causing the men behind him to bump into each other as they stopped.
"Do you mind?" Paul hissed at Keith.
"Quiet," the captain said. "Do you hear that?"
They were still. And there, from not too far off in the distance, came the sounds of revelry. Loud shouting and laughter—probably induced by rum—reached their ears, along with the strains of music.
Captain Donaldson frowned. "Someone's made a camp for the night on our path to the treasure."
"The pirates," Damian breathed.
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Post by Ghost on Aug 1, 2009 11:34:01 GMT -5
Part Seven
"Okay," the captain said in a low voice. "We're going to go around them."
"Obviously," Keith muttered.
"Hush. We're going to have to stay close to their camp, or we'll get off the right direction and miss the treasure entirely. Damian, you and I are going to go around to the left. Keith and Paul, go around the right."
Damian asked, "Why are we splitting up?"
"Your dad thinks we'll make less noise that way," Paul answered with a grin.
"No," Captain Donaldson retorted. "They're more likely to be satisfied with catching two of us instead of all four. If it comes to that."
"Is it going to come to that?" Damian asked in alarm.
Keith answered, "Not unless Paul decides to challenge Ryan to a duel."
"Be quiet," the captain interrupted. "Let's go."
They started up again, taking extra care to keep as quiet as they could. Ryan and his pirates' camp quickly appeared; firelight danced among the darkened trees and the music and laughter grew steadily louder.
Captain Donaldson motioned with his hand. Damian followed him as he headed to the left. Paul and Keith branched off, going to the right as the four companions began to skirt around the pirates' camp.
There were more pirates than the captain had envisioned. Ryan sat at one end of the camp, strumming a guitar and generally ignoring his crewmen. Some of his pirates danced drunkenly around the fire, others played on various instruments, and still others were drowning themselves in rum.
Captain Donaldson and his son moved silently through the undergrowth, staying low and going quickly. They only stopped once, when one of the pirates looked into the darkness where Damian was sneaking. But the pirate didn't see him.
The two made it safely around the camp and waited for Paul and Keith.
One of the pirates shouted, "Darkbeard! Play us a song!" (He was drunk, so it actually came out: "Darkbeard! Play ush a shong!" But that is neither here nor there.)
"What's taking so long?" Damian hissed.
"Have patience. They'll be here."
Meanwhile, Paul and Keith had been making steady but slow progress around the other side of the camp. They were about halfway toward where the captain and Damian waited when the pirate shouted for Ryan to sing.
Paul stopped in his tracks, and Keith was forced to stop, too. The pirates had settled down somewhat as Ryan/Darkbeard began to pluck at his guitar. The melody that he played was soothing and sad. He began to sing about broken things, and as he did, there was a motion in the shadows beside him. A woman in a black and gray dress rose up and moved to sit at Ryan's feet.
"Zara?" Paul whispered.
She gracefully drew her knees up to her chin and rested her head on her arms.
"What is she doing here?" Paul muttered as he took a step toward the firelight.
"No," Keith said, putting out an arm to hold his friend back. "Not now, Paul." Ryan finished his song and struck up a livelier tune, one about leaving his village and longing to go back to it. Zara stood up, appearing to be about to dance.
"Let's go," Keith said in a normal tone, forgetting that they were supposed to be sneaking by.
Ryan immediately stopped playing the guitar and looked into the darkness where Paul and Keith stood.
"Not good," Keith breathed.
"What is it?" one of the pirates called. "Get back to the music, cap'n!"
Ryan shook his head as if to clear it, turned back to his guitar, and picked up the song where he'd left off.
Keith promptly dragged Paul through the rest of the woods to where Captain Donaldson and Damian awaited them.
"Paul," the captain said in a low voice as they continued on, "what did you do?"
He didn't reply, but shot a dirty look at Keith.
Captain Donaldson sighed. "Never mind. We'll stop at the next clearing and make camp. Keith, you take the first watch. We rise at dawn."
The captain woke the others just before dawn. As his crewmen gathered their equipment and prepared to leave, he took out the map again. He frowned. He looked up from the map and looked around them. Then he looked back down, turning the map this way and that, and then turned his head to one side.
"Impossible," he murmured.
"Okay, Captain," Paul said from where he was standing with Keith and Damian. "We're all ready to go."
"Well, boys, it looks like we're not going anywhere."
"What?"
Captain Donaldson held the map out to his crewmen. "Look."
They came over and Paul took the parchment from the captain. All three crewmen leaned in, frowned, and then looked up. They looked at the area around them and then looked back down.
"Well, that's a coincidence, so it is," Keith said.
"Unbelievable!" Paul agreed.
All Damian could manage was: "Wow."
"Men," Captain Donaldson declared, "the treasure we're after is buried somewhere beneath our feet. Best get the shovels and get started. We'll each take a different section of this clearing. Cover more ground."
They picked up their shovels and branched out to different places in the clearing.
"I hope the pirates don't come this way," Damian said.
His father replied, "Just dig."
Luckily, the pirates were still in a drunken stupor and had not arisen as early as their sober enemies. The ground where the treasure had been buried was more sand than dirt, resulting in quick progress.
The crew of the Rolling Thunder was just beginning to despair of ever finding the trunk when Keith's shovel connected with something more solid than dirt or sand.
"I've got something!"
He dropped to his knees and furiously brushed the sand beneath him with his hands. The others let their shovels fall and dashed to the mouth of Keith's chest-deep hole.
"It looks like a trunk of some kind," he said.
Captain Donaldson asked, "Are there any markings on it?"
Keith shook his head. "No, it's just faded black. I can't even find the—wait."
"What is it?" Damian and Paul said simultaneously as they vied for a better view.
"It says something… A name."
Captain Donaldson asked, "What name?"
"I can't tell. It's so faded."
"Paul, get down there and help him," the captain ordered.
His crewman leaped dramatically into the pit beside Keith. He leaned in toward the chest, pressing one hand on Keith's back for support.
"Will you stop leaning on me?"
"No. It's not a name at all! It's an inscription of some kind."
"What does it say?" Damian pressed.
"It says: Buried Treasure."
Captain Donaldson nodded, all seriousness. "Then get out of there and give Keith room to keep digging."
Damian gave Paul a hand up out of the hole as he said, "I guess this means we stop digging, Father?"
"Yes."
So Damian and Paul lounged about the lip of the hole as Keith exerted his efforts on clearing the sand around the treasure chest. Captain Donaldson kicked sand back into the other holes and gathered the digging tools together.
"The sun's getting higher," Keith grunted after a little while. "Don't you want to keep watch for the pirates?"
And then, as if on cue, came rattling noises and shouts from the southeast—from where the pirates had camped.
Paul said in his most dramatic voice, "Here they come!"
"How are you doing with that digging, Keith?" Captain Donaldson asked. His voice, unlike Paul's, remained calm.
"I'm almost done."
Damian ran to the edge of the clearing that faced the pirates' camp. The noises quickly grew louder. The pirates drew nearer, their piratey songs of rum and fights and women reverberating throughout the quiet forest. The first pirate Damian saw was dressed completely in black. He was too far for his expression to be clear, but Damian had no doubt that it was dark smirk.
There, coming towards them with a host of men behind him, was Darkbeard the Destroyer. (Or, as our heroes knew him, the scallywag Ryan who stole Zara from Paul.)
That's all that I had on the official site. I've been working on this, so there will be more to come relatively soon.
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Post by Ghost on Aug 6, 2009 16:19:36 GMT -5
Here's the latest section. Only a few more to go, I promise. Part Eight
The black-clad pirate was there in a matter of minutes. Keith stopped digging but stayed in the pit. The others moved to stand between the treasure and the other pirates.
Ryan (that is, Darkbeard the Destroyer) stopped a few feet from the crew of the Rolling Thunder. "Trying to steal my treasure from me, I see. I suppose you think it's yours, like Zara used to be."
Paul glared at him.
"We found the treasure, Ryan," Captain Donaldson said. "Therefore it belongs to us."
"Oh, I don't think so," Ryan replied. He drew his sword.
"Is that a challenge?"
The pirate smirked. "You are heavily outnumbered, Captain. I wouldn't test my luck if I were you."
"We'll just see about that," Paul interrupted, and drawing his sword, leaped at his rival.
"Get them!" Ryan shouted as he parried Paul's blows.
The pirates attacked in a swarm.
Captain Donaldson and his crew had the advantage over Darkbeard the Destroyer's pirates. How? The pirates still suffered the aftereffects of the rum and ale they had been drinking so determinedly the night before. The crew of the Rolling Thunder was as sober as could be.
Damian and Keith found themselves guarding the open pit and the treasure chest that it held. Ryan's pirates leaped at the mouth of the hole; Keith and Damian danced around it to fend them off.
"Keith, kill one of them, will you?" Damian shouted as he shoved a pirate into the nearest tree. "They keep coming back!"
"Why don't you kill one?" Keith retorted, and slammed the hilt of his sword onto a pirate's head.
The man immediately crumpled into an unconscious, tattooed heap in the sand. Keith and Damian paused to look at him.
"That works, too," Damian said.
Someone shouted from behind them, "High-ya!!!"
Keith whirled to kick a burly pirate who was taking a swing at Damian. The pirate groaned and fell back. Keith kicked him again.
"Thanks," Damian said hoarsely.
"You're welcome."
While the two youngest crewmen flew about the treasure pit, Captain Donaldson was busy handling three pirates at once.
"You've got no skills, mateys," he laughed.
This only angered his foes, the largest of whom staggered toward the captain in a furied charge. Captain Donaldson jumped aside, and the pirate ran smack into a tree, bumping his dirty bandana-covered head and, essentially, knocking himself unconscious.
"Ha!"
Although the remaining two pirates fought harder, they could not surpass the captain's strength or skill.
Meanwhile, Paul was locked in a struggle with Ryan and two of his subordinates. "Surrender now," Darkbeard said as he parried another of Paul's sword thrusts, "and I'll give you a trinket from the treasure chest."
"Never!" Paul shouted, and thwacked one of Ryan's pirates with the flat of his blade. "I would not surrender if you gave me the entire chest!"
"Would you surrender if I gave you Zara?"
Paul hesitated. The second of Ryan's pirates leaped. Paul whirled, and after a flurry of quick motions, the pirate crumpled to the ground at Paul's feet.
"You would never give me Zara, you liar."
Ryan grinned a dark and evil smile. Paul threw himself at his nemesis with renewed determination.
Keith and Damian, who had just managed to rid themselves of a few more pirates, saw the intensity of Ryan and Paul's fight.
"Quick," Keith cried, "let's get the treasure before someone gets killed!"
He jumped into the pit of sand. The fighting around them continued in a loud din as Keith used all of his strength to hoist the treasure chest up toward his companion. Damian leaned into the pit to grasp the side handle of the chest.
"Got it?" Keith grunted.
"Aye," Damian replied, and promptly pitched forward with the sudden weight of the treasure.
The chest thudded back onto the sand, barely missing Keith's toes as he launched himself out of the way.
"It's heavy, Damian!"
By the time Damian had again taken hold of the handle, Captain Donaldson and Paul had realized what was going on. They immediately set about keeping the pirates distracted so that their comrades could spirit the treasure away. Captain Donaldson was shouting insults at his foes, and Paul began to use the most complex sword strokes he knew against Ryan.
Keith had shoved the chest onto the lip of the hole, and Damian had nearly dragged it completely out, when Darkbeard caught on.
"Someone stop them!" Ryan barked. He collided with Paul, and their struggle intensified.
"Quick, Damian!" Keith said as he pulled himself out of the hole. "Take the other handle!"
They lifted the trunk and began to run with it towards the shore, staggering under the weight of the gold.
"We'll be rich if we can get this to the ship," Keith muttered.
He looked back; some of Ryan's pirates had seen them making off with the treasure and were alerting the others.
"Faster!"
"Keith, what are we doing?" Damian said as they struggled to gain speed. "Shouldn't we stop and fight them off instead of running away?" "We're not running away," Keith retorted.
"Then what are we doing?"
Paul shouted from somewhere behind them as he clashed with Ryan, "Evasive maneuvers!"
Keith added, "Shut up and run!"
The pirates were gaining on them, breaking away from fighting Captain Donaldson and Paul and instead focusing on the treasure.
The captain chased after his former assailants, shouting that he wasn't finished with them yet. Paul and Ryan were still locked in combat, neither one giving or gaining any ground, but they were following the fight towards the shore.
Damian somehow managed to draw his sword as he struggled to keep up with Keith's speed. He wildly swung the blade in all directions, and the pirates slowed their pace.
Then Keith tripped.
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Post by Ghost on Aug 16, 2009 13:16:21 GMT -5
Part Nine
His boot must have caught on something lying in the sand. Keith tripped, stumbled for a few paces, and then pitched forward flat on his face. The treasure chest lurched ahead and thumped into the sand, dragging Damian down on top of it in a heap.
Darkbeard the Destroyer's pirates came rushing toward the fallen crewmen. Damian leaped back to his feet as Keith struggled to regain his footing.
"You won't get the treasure that easily!" the young sailor yelled as he brandished his sword.
"Damian!" Captain Donaldson cried as he fought his way to his son, "Just get the treasure onboard the ship!"
Keith had, by this time, gotten back on his feet and had taken hold of the handle once more. Damian grabbed the other, his sword hanging limp in his opposite hand. Together, the two crewmen again lifted the chest between them and stumbled away from the pirates.
Meanwhile, Paul continued his tussle with Ryan. They kept in pursuit of the treasure chest, dashing around the trees to attack each other from all directions.
"Ha!" Paul declared triumphantly when Keith and Damian recovered the chest. "Your pirates can't even beat us when we're down!"
Ryan growled, "I'm getting a new crew as soon as we put into port. Except Zara. She stays. That's what I call a woman!"
"Where is she?" Paul spat as he renewed his attacks on Ryan.
"Back on the ship," his rival replied with that dark grin. He easily parried Paul's blows.
Both were quite tired out by now, and beginning to lag in their attacks and defenses. Neither gave ground and neither gained.
They were nearing the shoreline; the woods were ending and the sea was visible as Keith and Damian raced on, Ryan's pirates close behind. Finally, Paul decided to end things once and for all.
"What the heck is that?" he cried, pointing to the horizon.
Ryan immediately looked in that direction, unknowingly lowering his sword. "What? Where?"
Paul stamped on Ryan's booted toes and raced away after his captain and fellow crewmen.
"Ouch!" Ryan yelped, dancing on one foot and grabbing onto the other. "How did I not see that coming?"
As Paul caught up with the others, Keith and Damian tossed the treasure chest into the dinghy and began to pull it into the ocean. Captain Donaldson held off the pirates, who, for some unknown reason, decided to attack their enemies in turns instead of all at once. (Clearly, the latter would have been much more effective, but the pirates had other ideas.)
"Get over here, crewman!" the captain shouted.
Damian and Keith pushed the dinghy into the waves as Paul and Captain Donaldson continued to hold off their assailants.
Finally, the dinghy was far enough into the sea. Keith clambered aboard and pulled Damian in after him. They grabbed the oars and began to row.
"Come on, mateys!" Keith shouted.
The captain plunged into the surf and was on the dinghy in a matter of seconds. Paul, however, missed the cue and was still trying to fight a particularly grisly pirate.
Damian cried, "Anytime, Paul!"
Paul turned from the pirates and ran straight into the waves, diving into the sea. He swam up to the dinghy as Keith and Damian stopped rowing. Ryan's pirates stood for a moment, completely stunned, and then rushed after him.
Keith leaned over to drag Paul into the boat. He fell over the side onto the wood, spraying water everywhere.
"Hey, look," Damian said. "Ryan's back."
Sure enough, Ryan, captain of the pirate ship Heartbreaker, emerged from the woods onto the white sand of the beach. Even from this distance, it was clear that he was glaring furiously at his enemies—and his own incompetent crewmen, who appeared unable to swim anything except dog-paddle.
"I have an idea," Paul said.
He climbed over to the treasure chest and, breaking the rusted lock with the hilt of his sword, opened the lid. He picked up the first thing his hand touched, closed the lid, and turned back to the shore.
"Here you go, Ryan!" he called. "Your compensation for all your services rendered to the Rolling Thunder!"
And with that, he chucked the object in his hand as hard as he could. It sailed through the air and landed with a thump in the sand.
"Go, go, go!" Captain Donaldson hollered. The pirates were making their way towards them.
The two youngest crewmen picked up their oars again and rowed with all their might. And this time, the dinghy skimmed the water straight and true back to the Rolling Thunder.
Darkbeard the Destroyer fumed as he walked to the glinting object that poked out of the sand. He bent down and picked it up, cursing the man who had tauntingly thrown it onto the shore.
Resting in his palm, its heaviness weighing on his hand, was a solid gold sculpture of a well.
Back onboard the Rolling Thunder, Captain Donaldson and his crew crowded around the treasure chest as it sat on deck.
"Now, crew," the captain said, "before I open this, I must say something. We each will take one item from this chest for our own personal use. One. Item. Understood?"
The crew nodded.
"Good. The rest will go to Browne & Coulter."
Captain Donaldson knelt in front of the chest and slowly opened its creaky lid. There, glinting and gleaming before their eyes, was the treasure they had long sought. Gold coins filled the chest; large, gleaming jewels were scattered among the gold. There were also several more gold sculptures, much like the one that Paul had thrown back to Ryan as a good-bye present.
The captain said with a wide grin, "Crew, take your prizes. Choose carefully."
Damian went first. After rooting through the gold and jewels, he eventually decided upon a solid gold comb with which to untangle his short hair.
While Damian was looking, Paul caught sight of what he wanted, and it took him less than ten seconds to pull out the miniature statue of a knight on his horse. It was solid gold save the knight's clothes, which had been painted white.
Keith took less time than Paul, and he chose a solid gold mug with the word "Rum" along the rim.
For Declan there was a fine pair of matching gold sticks. And Neil took the smallest item of any of the crew: a small, thin gold triangle with a ruby in its center. These last two choices seemed useless and meaningless to the other crewmen, but for Declan and Neil, their prizes were precious.
After the crew had chosen their spoils, Captain Donaldson stepped forward. He had no desire for gold statues or coins. Instead, he took the finest necklace in the entire chest. He would give it to his wife when he returned home.
Once the captain took his prize, the crew locked away the chest and Captain Donaldson pocketed the key.
"Lads," he said, "take us home."
THE END
There's an epilogue coming once I finish weaving it together.
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Post by Ghost on Aug 16, 2009 16:24:21 GMT -5
And here's the epilogue, a lot sooner than I thought it would be. ;D
Epilogue
As the Rolling Thunder put into her home port, all the crew except Paul rejoiced. They were home at last, and richer than when they had set out.
Paul, however, was in a sour mood. He had not won Zara back from Ryan. In fact, Zara seemed quite content to be cavorting about with the most feared pirate in the Caribbean! And all that Paul had to show for his troubles as a crewman onboard Captain Donaldson's ship was a small gold statue of a knight dressed in white clothes.
Now Keith, who had already decided to make the rounds at the local taverns, decided to take Paul and Damian along with him. Paul reluctantly agreed, and even then it was only after Damian promised to sing in front of everyone.
While Keith went to fetch his guitar, Paul and Damian went to inform the captain of their intentions.
"Now Damian," the captain said, "I'm letting you go with Keith and Paul to the tavern, but you had better not get into any trouble."
"Don't worry, Father, I won't."
Paul came up from below decks, followed by Keith carrying his guitar.
"Captain!" Keith said.
"Yes?"
"We're out of rum!"
"Again? If you would stop drinking so much, Keith, it would last longer."
Paul, Keith, and Damian strolled down the gangplank.
"Stay out of trouble!" Captain Donaldson called after them.
Paul grinned at him and said, "Who, us? We're going to the Pirate's Pub! What could possibly happen?"
Keith just flicked his hand as he walked down the dock. Captain Donaldson watched them until they disappeared in the crowd.
A short while later, he returned from his visit to Browne & Coulter, where he had deposited what treasure the crew had not kept for itself. Upon finding from Declan and Neil that the other three of his crewmen were still at the tavern, Captain Donaldson headed immediately for Pirate's Pub.
He heard the music before he could push his way inside. Was that his son's voice singing with Keith? The captain had barely made his way past the door when there was a loud twang, followed by many high-pitched screams.
Then Keith and Damian blew past him at a breakneck pace. Keith's guitar banged awkwardly against his back as he rushed down the street, Damian close on his heels.
"Faster!" Damian yelled with a glance behind them. "They're catching up!"
Suddenly, a screaming mob of girls and young women came bursting out of the tavern.
"Wait, Keith! I love you!"
"Damian, don't goooo!"
Captain Donaldson stood, his jaw dropped, until the street quieted down. Then he shook his head, and followed at a slower pace.
When he reached the Rolling Thunder, he found the large group of googly-eyed females standing where the gangplank for the ship used to be. Damian and Keith were in the process of hauling it onto the deck.
Keith leaned over the rails to shout, "Sorry girls, but we've got to be going on our next voyage!"
"But Keith!" someone wailed. "I love you!"
His eyes widened visibly, and then he ducked away and disappeared from sight. Damian's head appeared where Keith had just been.
"Damian!" someone screamed. "I'm cute and talkative!"
He raised his eyebrows and called down, "Sorry, but we can't stop. We're under strict orders."
And then he disappeared after Keith.
The girls waited a few moments, but when the two sailors didn't reappear, they rapidly left in bunches.
Once they were gone, the captain shouted up, "Ahoy, mates! Is anyone going to lower the gangplank for me?"
Neil leaned over. "No more girls?"
"No more girls."
A few seconds later, Declan and Neil lowered the gangplank for their captain.
"Thank ye," he said as he climbed up. "Where are the rest of my crewmen?"
Neil answered, "Keith and Damian are in the galley. Hiding."
"Paul's there too," Declan added, "but he's not hiding. He's just drinking. He arrived just after you left for the tavern."
"Get this ship out of the port. I'll go see about the other crewmen."
Captain Donaldson ducked below decks into the galley. Paul sat staring into his mug of rum, Keith balanced his guitar on his knees, and Damian looked exhausted.
"Me guitar," Keith moaned as he stroked the wounded instrument. At least one string had snapped in the scuffle at the tavern.
"That was close," Damian sighed. "How did those girls get in there? It's a tavern, for crying out loud!"
Paul laughed. "Why do you think I left so quickly?"
Captain Donaldson looked at him (and his mug of rum) suspiciously. "You seem in remarkably better spirits than a few hours ago. What happened in that tavern?"
"Oh, nothing," Paul answered with a grin. He took a swig of rum.
"There was this girl there," Damian explained. "She swooned when he came in. She fell right into his arms."
"I was simply in the right place at the right time," Paul said.
"Where did you get that rum?" the captain interrupted. "I thought we were out."
Keith looked up from his guitar. "We took a detour. Don't worry, there's plenty of rum for you too, Captain."
"Father," Damian said. "About the trouble at the tavern. It wasn't my fault! Keith and I were just singing when these girls came out of nowhere."
Keith added, "Besides, everything was fine until they rushed the stage."
"They did what? How did they…?"
Keith smirked mischievously in Damian's direction.
"On second thought," Captain Donaldson amended, "I don't want to know. Just get on deck, crewmen!"
The sun was setting as the Rolling Thunder set sail for the horizon.
"You know, Father," Damian said as he stood at the helm next to the captain, "I really do like that gold comb we found."
"Do you?"
"Yes. I used it in the tavern during one of our songs. That was when the girls rushed the stage. Do you think that's why they did?"
The (real) End
There ya go. I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it!
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