"Avast, ya lubbers!" Captain Sever bellowed, "Back on board, I say!!!"
He was angrily trying to round up his crew, who had segmented into denominations about Melee. Meanwhile, Guybrush crept from around the side of the Bar and back onto the streets, where he made a swift and agile retreat (in his opinion) into the mists of the harbour. And if swiftness and agility involved tripping over one's own feet and toppling over the pier into a half-submerged rowboat, he was right. Gagging, he clambered back on and continued his clandestine creeping to Captain Sever's ship, the Lingering Floater itself. It was a gargantuan barge, and left Guybrush feeling more insignificant than usual as he stood beside it.
"Elaine said no frivolous escapades," he pondered to himself. "I guess that means I can't stow away on board and undermine his attempts and vandalising all of Tri-Island."
He thought for a moment, before his trademark grin of bumbling mischief took a hold of his features.
"But perhaps," he mused, "I can leave the good Captain with a parting gift……."
Tiptoeing with mock sneakiness, he scurried along the length of the plank that adjoined the ship and the harbour, slithered along the deck, and dove below. The hull was basically a large chamber stacked full of ammunition and miscellaneous weapons of considerable destruction.
"This hull is basically a large chamber stacked full of ammunition and miscellaneous weapons of considerable destruction," he noted, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
Awed, he strode slowly amongst the clutter, whistling softly. In his compelled state of scrutinising observation, he failed to notice an unusually large cannon ball at his feet, and stumbled. Immune to humiliation, however, he denied himself an opportunity to curse, instead crouching to examine it.
"Wow," he grinned, "This cannonball could pierce even the most battle-seasoned warship." Then, in a deeper, Shakespearian tone, "Mayhap I have stumbled upon a chance for havoc?"
He eagerly wrapped his arms around the solid lead dome, arced his back and hoisted with all his might. It didn't even slide along the wood, instead remaining fixated where it sat. Guybrush let out a laboured breath, and fell onto his behind.
"Aw, this would've been simple in my caber-tossing prime," he groaned.
Frowning, he searched about for anything that could assist him.
"Hmm…….," he wondered aloud, "……I need to find something to help me propel this cannonball through the floor. And besides that cutlass and barrel poised conveniently in a position to make an ideal lever, I can't think of anything!"
Disregarding his lame attempt at subtle humour, he wedged the blade of the cutlass under the cannonball, the barrel propping it up on an angle. He pressed his ankles together and sprung, landing on the protruding apparatus with all of his weight. Which, in comparison to the cannonball, was pitiful. The cutlass bent low, before launching the hapless hero across the length of the hull, and into a crate full of cannonballs of a similar nature. They spilt around him, and he tucked himself into the foetal position for fear of being squashed. None of them bounced upon hitting the floor, instead leaving perfect hole impressions. Perfect hole impressions that were soon masked by the geysers of water they allowed through.
"Enjoy your trip on the Lingering Sinker, Captain Sever," Guybrush chuckled, before tiptoeing excitedly back onto the deck and beyond.
= ^_~ =
"I heard a commotion at the SCUMM Bar," Elaine remarked as he sauntered triumphantly through the door to the mansion, "I trust it didn't involve you?"
"Not to their knowledge, anyway," he smirked.
She frowned and returned to her deskwork as he fell contentedly onto the sofa, emitting small giggles at the thought of Captain Sever's ship going under at Golfo de Pollo, the reef off the Coast of Plunder Island.
"Something funny, Guybrush?" she inquired.
"Hm? Oh, not really - - just reminiscing over my fabulous stay at Chubb Island."
"You mean you're fabulously short stay," she muttered.
"Ohh, I know you're upset, honey," he explained, sighing. "But my presence here on Melee was necessary!"
"If you're presence here was necessary, why then did I send you to Chubb?"
"You tell me."
"Guybrush, you know I love you. And you know I always will. But, look back over the last four years, and you'll see that you have a knack of unwittingly engaging in the most bizarre and unlikely of circumstances. It's not that I don't trust you, but so much is riding on the Sanitation Commissioner's approval, and your accident-prone nature is a real threat."
"Elaine," he whined, "If you only knew how much my accident-prone nature has helped you just now! I am your husband, and you won't even believe me when I say the Sanitation Commissioner is deliberately trying to have you impeached! If it hadn't of been for my help, the Greater Panama Union would've legally acquired Chubb, and put it under new management. If it hadn't have been for my help, he would've done the same to Melee - - nay - - the whole Tri-Island Area!!!"
She looked up at him and sighed resignedly.
"Look," she said, "Why don't I make an inquiry to the Commissioner concerning your accusations; we'll get his personal confirmation! How does that sound?"
"Oh, dandy!" moaned Guybrush, "After all, such a respectable and ethically rigid gentleman must be oozing with honesty."
Annoyed, Guybrush paced upstairs to his chamber, leaving his equally irritated wife below.
0_o
"I think you'll find, Mr. Cleave," Elaine beamed proudly, "That Melee shows not a trace of hygienic neglect."
She was guiding the Sanitation Commissioner, one Mister Lance Cleave, through the town that following day, and noticed, to her surprise, that he appeared agitated where he stood.
"Is there a problem, sir?" she asked.
"Yes, there is a problem," the dark man fumed, "And the problem is: there is no problem!"
"I, uh…….I don't understand."
"I do," Guybrush interrupted, pacing towards them. "You're a little upset at your lackey for not gettin' the job done right, eh? Y'know - - Captain Adrian Sever?"
"I know you," Cleave hissed in his thick Spanish accent, "You're that bile-guzzling wimp from Chubb, aren't you?"
"Hey!" Guybrush replied, "I resent the phrase 'bile-guzzling,' thank you very much! And yes, I am! I'm also the one who cleaned out Hockworthy's Tavern after you had it arranged to be trashed!"
"Guybrush!" Elained seethed in mortification.
The Commissioner sneered.
"Say what you will, boy," he remarked, "But there's no way you can protect the rest of the Tri-Island Area from Captain Sever and his crew."
"What?" Elaine cried.
"Oh-ho, I'm afraid you're wrong," Guybrush chuckled, happy that (for once) he had the upper edge in a verbal confrontation. "I made a few modifications to the good Captain's ship. You might just be able to find him in a life raft out in the middle of nowhere."
Vehement, the Commissioner sucked a piercing breath through his teeth and clenched his fists, his hulking body standing a good foot above the (now considerably intimidated) hero.
"We're not done yet, Guybrush," he growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "For while you may have saved your precious Tri-Island Area, my little scheme has conquered many an island for the men I represent. And it will only be a matter of time before you let your guard down. Good day to you, Governor Marley. Melee certainly is very clean."
With a symbolic thrust of his flowing robe, the Commissioner span about on the balls of his feet and paced indignantly away from the couple.
"Guybrush," Elaine whispered, her eyes misting over, "I'm so sorry, I……I……."
"No, it's okay," he smiled, embracing her warmly. "I can understand where you were coming from. I guess my credibility is a little jaded."
"B-but……we've got to do something!" she cried, "Before it's too late!"
"I think it's too late for a lot of islands already," he sighed. "But it's not too late to get 'em back! Whereabouts is the Union HQ?"
"On Flaccid Island," she replied.
"Flaccid Island? Isn't that where the Voodoo Lady shifted residence?"
"Uh-huh."
"I guess I was wrong, then."
"If the Union is crooked," she continued, "The only way to resolve the matter is through war. But………I have a feeling the Union isn't responsible for this scheme."
"Then let's set sail for Flaccid Island and find out for ourselves!!!"
"Yes, but Guybrush………do be discreet."
"Elaine, my love," he grinned, "Discretion is my middle name."
"Ulysses is your middle name, and your Three-headded-monkey bluff can only be pushed so far. Just be careful. I think we're in way over our heads here."
= ^_^ =
Following the departure of Commissioner Cleaver, Elaine summoned her crewmen and, with her bumbling if lovable husband by her side, began the voyage from Melee to Flaccid.
"Estefan!" she called up to the crow's nest on the third day of sailing. "Are we nearing the Island yet?"
"Wonderful timing, Mademoiselle!" he called down to her, chuckling, "I can see Authority Point from here! Land ho!"