It was a cold night in Port Royal, Jamaica. Every single shadow cast by the light of the full moon seemed to have a demon hiding inside of it, waiting to jump out at unsuspecting innocents. It was on this night, in this particular city, that an extraordinary adventure was about to begin for two young children. You see, as is often happening-
"Don't you think that sounds a cry to..feminene?"
I looked up from my journal, and squinted against the bright Caribbean sunlight, and penetrated my brother Josh Springer with my most barbed look, while placing my hands on my hips characteristically.
"I
beg yer pardon, oh brother of mine.…what the bloody heck is that
supposed to mean?"
He laughed, and leaped from his perch up in
the ratlines, his sandy-brown hair looking slightly tousled in the
wind, "Darlene, come on! If yer going to write a narrative that
explains how we ended up here, you have to make it sound like you
wrote it, not some high born scholar. This is how it actually went!"
Then, after he dusted his hands off, and craned his head back to see
what a daring jump from on high he made, my older brother returned
his gaze to me, and screwed up his face, and squealed in a passable
imitation of my voice, "Josh! Where are we? What's happening?
Who are these men with swords and big guns? Josh? What's going on?
Why are they taking us to their boat? Josh! Are they pirates? JOSH?
AHHHH? Are they going kill us? Are they going to make us walk the
plank? Oh, Josh, gallant brother, save me! Kick their hides with your
awesome skills and poweress!"
"If I recall correctly.." Captain Jack Sparrow cocked his head, tapping a long, delicate finger on the wheel of the Black Pearl, "Darlene was the one doing the saving and the all around hide kicking, while you pretty much cowered behind her. Made it a heck of a lot easier to take you captive, and force her to put down the sword."
"Yeah, good times, good times!" I laughed, though inwardly I was still seething at that memory. It was two months ago that my brother Josh and I had been taken from our peaceful nest in Port Royal, and dumped into the hands of a bunch of pirates. I had grown used to, and, indeed, fond of the pirate life…but I still can't believe that fourteen years of instruction in swordplay has been useless when the great Captain Jack Sparrow held a gun up to my brothers head, and forced me to surrender, "Jack…just…uh…next time you and I are in an all out sparring match, make sure you don't cheat, and threaten to kill my brother."
"Threatening and cheating is what I do best, luv!" Jack Sparrow said, all smiles. He was in a playful mood, brought on by rum, and the good weather we were having. Josh and I were the only ones up on the main deck, save for the occasional odd seaman, one towards port side, playing his pennywhistle, and three behind us on the fantail, having a spitting contest.
Here I turned out, and faced the sea, taking in a deep breath of the crisp, salty sea air. We were three days south of Tortuga, with fair winds and skies at our backs. I glanced sorrowfully at the ragged manuscript in my hand, and flung it overboard, watching in mild amusement as the sheafs of paper drifted down, down, down, until they were at last swallowed up by the spray from the ocean.
The sad notes of, 'My Gone Away Lass' from the whistle playing pirate were swept away into the breeze, which suddenly kicked in with a vengeance. I stumbled back a little as the sails billowed out as far as they were ought, and the Black Pearl surged foreword into the sea.
"You there!" Jack suddenly threw out to anyone in the vicinity, and in less time than it had taken for him to bark the command, four seamen were standing in a shabby line before us, "Tighten the main and foresails. If this pleasant li'l breeze keeps up, I have a feeling we could be at Port Samusen in three days."
"What about the sails on the mizenmast, sir?" The pirate with the penny whistle asked (I think his name is Dagger, due to the choice of weapon he wore)
Jack gave his most toothy, winning smile to me and my brother, "I think our little shiprats can take care of those. Careful on the topgallant…if she rips, I'll keelhaul you without a moments notice."
"Yessir." Josh and I said. We were used to that little threat, and the term, 'shiprat' was more a term of endearment than scorn, as it used to be. With a hopskipping run, I was the first up in the ratlines, climbing them like a monkey, Josh not far behind.
