"Pieces of eight!"
The squawk sounded harshly through the early morning hours waking Cotton from a good dream of rum and lovely women in which he figured prominently. He knew it was only a dream as he could feel the movement of the ship.
Swinging out of the hammock, he stood up and stretched his arms high, moving the muscles in preparation for another day at sea. Yawning, he scratched his grizzled cheek.
"Pieces of eight!"
He swatted at the colorful bird. The macaw had been his mouthpiece now for several years, but sometimes it spoke it's own mind. He wondered what she had been up to now to cause such a comment.
"Pieces of eight!"
Then he noticed the pile of brightly colored coins and gems piled under his sleeping place. Clearly she had been busy. He bent over and picked them up. Turning them over he carefully inspected each piece, groaning softly. She'd been at it again, pilfering his shipmates plunder. He deliberated whether to return it before they awoke.
"Finders keepers!"
Grinning, he tucked the swag into his pocket. He'd deal with it later, if any discovered it missing that is.