I felt her strong pedal beneath me and the tension of the sails
in the wind as I steered her in the permanent direction. All was in equal
share, and the entire crew now knew of the location of the treasure- the
sole commodity that had kept me alive the past couple decades.
We'd single-handedly run out the pride of the Royal Navy and were headed to the Isle de Muerta. "Land ho." A sharp voice cut through the thick air from the crow's nest, announcing the appearance of land; the owner of the speaker with spy scope in tight grasp. As I squared my own scope to my eye and squinted a bit to find a clearer view of the island, a sense of uneasiness settling over me. A footfall fell behind me, and before the chance arose to turn, I felt the choke of the cloth in my mouth, and the disowning of my eyesight.
...
And as I next remember, smooth sand formed to my spine's natural form and cool steel tunneled at my waist. I was able to make out a miniature dot of my ship, and the Jolly Rodger claiming its title. Bugs flittered violently at my eyes, and it was then that I decided an exploration of the area was a mandatory action. When a numerous amount of bullets had resided in my pistol moments before the abandonment of the Captain of The Black Pearl, realizing a single one only lay in the pocket announced the fact that a mutiny had occurred aboard the ship.
That won't do much good for hunting and being rescued, and while I paced about the vegetation I came to discover a cache.
...
Entirely too drunk to function, I settled myself in the shelter I had created prior to consuming the number of drinks I had, and awoke the next morning, pain consistently shooting through the segments of my brain. A couple more days of hell- but the reassurance that every sunset leads to morning precisely ticked through my mind and coaxed me through the violent heat that I was suspected to go mad by.
The relief I'd hoped for spun before my eyes due to my drunken condition, and the crisp, white sails danced unto the shore and towards the cache. A new day had arrived- and the day of mere revenge would be soon to follow.
...
The pain the crew had wreathed upon my shoulders should've informed them of my existence- Pain lets people know you're alive. And I still have yet to figure the reasoning behind my abandonment, the reason behind the hateful words shared. And I can only look out with great optimism that a prayer was whispered for an innocent man.
We'd single-handedly run out the pride of the Royal Navy and were headed to the Isle de Muerta. "Land ho." A sharp voice cut through the thick air from the crow's nest, announcing the appearance of land; the owner of the speaker with spy scope in tight grasp. As I squared my own scope to my eye and squinted a bit to find a clearer view of the island, a sense of uneasiness settling over me. A footfall fell behind me, and before the chance arose to turn, I felt the choke of the cloth in my mouth, and the disowning of my eyesight.
...
And as I next remember, smooth sand formed to my spine's natural form and cool steel tunneled at my waist. I was able to make out a miniature dot of my ship, and the Jolly Rodger claiming its title. Bugs flittered violently at my eyes, and it was then that I decided an exploration of the area was a mandatory action. When a numerous amount of bullets had resided in my pistol moments before the abandonment of the Captain of The Black Pearl, realizing a single one only lay in the pocket announced the fact that a mutiny had occurred aboard the ship.
That won't do much good for hunting and being rescued, and while I paced about the vegetation I came to discover a cache.
...
Entirely too drunk to function, I settled myself in the shelter I had created prior to consuming the number of drinks I had, and awoke the next morning, pain consistently shooting through the segments of my brain. A couple more days of hell- but the reassurance that every sunset leads to morning precisely ticked through my mind and coaxed me through the violent heat that I was suspected to go mad by.
The relief I'd hoped for spun before my eyes due to my drunken condition, and the crisp, white sails danced unto the shore and towards the cache. A new day had arrived- and the day of mere revenge would be soon to follow.
...
The pain the crew had wreathed upon my shoulders should've informed them of my existence- Pain lets people know you're alive. And I still have yet to figure the reasoning behind my abandonment, the reason behind the hateful words shared. And I can only look out with great optimism that a prayer was whispered for an innocent man.