August, 2003.
The Island of Death.
"Men, I believe we have actually found Bootstrap Bill's son. This means we can make him bleed in order to relieve this wealth-producing curse. Who here wants to slit this boy's throat?" shouted Barbosa. Will was kneeling next to the chest of gold, bound tightly.
"We can't! He's an orphan!" somebody cried from the pirate crew.
Barbosa dropped the knife.
"Dash it! I forgot that. D'you think we could let the general rule go for this once?"
"No, that's sacrilige! Remember, we are orphans ourselves!"
The pirates all thought about this. "Well, maybe we could get him to willingly give us just a little blood . . ."
"No," said Will.
The pirates thought some more. Soon, darkness fell . . .
"Men, I believe we have actually found Bootstrap Bill's son. This means we can make him bleed in order to relieve this wealth-producing curse. Who here wants to slit this boy's throat?" shouted Barbosa. Will was kneeling next to the chest of gold, bound tightly.
"We can't! He's an orphan!" somebody cried from the pirate crew.
Barbosa dropped the knife.
"Dash it! I forgot that. D'you think we could let the general rule go for this once?"
"No, that's sacrilige! Remember, we are orphans ourselves!"
The pirates all thought about this. "Well, maybe we could get him to willingly give us just a little blood . . ."
"No," said Will.
The pirates thought some more. Soon, darkness fell . . .