I am feeling much better, thank you.
My dear Bean02, I am sorry for forgetting to reply before. I haven't seen the Muppets' Treasure Island. I'm sure it's hilarious!
I have seen many serious versions of the book, though most of them didn't interest. The one good version is from 1990, with a young
and adorable Christian Bale as Jim Hawkins, and Charlton Heston as Long John Silver. There were a ton of famous actors in it,
including Oliver Reed, Christopher Lee, and Pete Postlethwaite. Some of the pirates names: Billy Bones, Black Dog, Blind Pew,
Israel Hands. Very imaginative names. And the music was done by the Chieftains!
I can't take credit for the titles of the chapters. Some come from an old song thatis reflected very much in Rose's outlook and
reactions. On the other hand, I can't stand reading song lyrics in fiction, though, (too much like a high-school-crush for my taste)
so I use snippets as titles here and there to help me keep "the mood" and try and keep it from getting too melodramatic or schmaltzy.
I apologize to Flossy and everyone on the "cliffhanger" way of leaving the chapters; it's not my intention to evoke anticipation.
To tell you the truth, I only have a vague idea of what's going to happenin major events. The details take me a long time to hammer
out. For instance, it took me a long, long time to decide who was going to be on the party to board the Walrus. I couldn't decide if
Tom should go or not, but finally I had to make a decision, and I did, but I only plan one scene ahead, so even I don'tknow what's
going to happen after the next scene.
Anyway, it's not useful for me to write long chapters because I need to get so many things "right" that I would never be satisfied and
would keep gong back and changing things, which would mean changing other things…. A big old chain reaction. It's better to get
one difficult scene down there and finished before tackling another hard scene, if you see what I mean.
The Taking of the Walrus
Without the moon, the thick darkness made rowing difficult, but the light of the seemingly infinite stars aided them. The towering cliffs of the island blocked some of the lights, but the rowing was easy. Once they were out of the inlet and in the open sea, the men were forced to row harder, but it was easier to see the three ships circling like menacing birds of prey. Both Tom and Rose caught sight of the Walrus at the same time; not too far south-southeast and heading due north about as slow as she could, hardly seeming to move. Although they needed no quiet yet, Tom's orders were given in a low voice and they turned east to intercept her. The other two ships were not far but in the dark of the moon, there was little threat of discovery.
Rose's hand slipped into his; gently, he squeezed and held hers. Ever closer they drew, though their journey already seemed to be endless because of nerves being stretched taut and pulled tight. Rose had insisted that there would be no watch set, no sentry, just a pair of half-drunken men to keep the Walrus on course and to keep each other awake. Certain, she had been certain, certain enough to bet her life and to now gamble with the lives of the men as well as the life of her lover. For herself she was not afraid. The same was true for him: Tom was afraid not for himself but for her.
Tension mounted as they drew near the frigate. Her dark bulk grew as they closed in, obliterating the heavy stars hanging low in the sky. No alarm, no calls announced their approach, and the powerful strokes of the oarsmen drew them up alongside. Two of them passed their oars to others and stood to grasp the man-ropes on either side of the shallow steps that lead up the side. The gig bumped once, lightly, against the hull with a dull thud, and they all held their breath for a long couple of minutes.
When Rose squeezed Tom's hand, they looked one another full in the face; even in the darkness, there was sadness and comprehension between them. Neither spoke: there was nothing to be said, for both knew well enough what thoughts, hopes, and emotions the other held in mind. They kissed once and shared a smile and a silent farewell. After that, Rose stood up carefully and moved to grasp one of the man-ropes with her left hand. Pausing, she slid her heavy knife from its sheath, and in amazement, Tom thought she meant to hold it in her teeth, buccaneer style, as she stole up and boarded the ship. Instead, she slid it back into place, and he knew that she had merely been checking that it was loose enough to draw quickly. Without any other hesitation, she clambered up the side and made no perceptible noise.
Once she reached the top, she peered over the railing and waited before climbing over and disappearing from view. It was the signal to begin counting and Tom silently started on his way to one hundred.
One… two… three… four…
He counted, keeping his mind alert and clear from worry. Upwards he stared, waiting, heart pounding, as the numbers slowly passed…
…twenty-three… twenty-four… twenty-five…
One of the men coughed as quietly as possible, but Tom ignored him. Nothing yet, no sign of trouble. He counted and waited, heartbeat even louder…
…fifty-eight… fifty-nine… sixty… sixty one…
The ship shifted infinitesimally. His heart stopped for an instant, and then he felt as if painful shards of glass had been released into his veins. Had she succeeded? There was no sound, no cry or shout, no calls or alarms. Had she done it?
…seventy-nine… eighty… eighty-one… eighty-two…
Endless, endless, the numbers seemed! She was beyond help now, either successful or slain. His breathing had grown short and sharp. Every tense muscle, every tightly-wound nerve ached for release…
…ninety-one… ninety-two… ninety-three…
Nearly… nearly. And then…
…one hundred.
Tom climbed up the side quickly and carefully. When he reached the top, he scanned the deck. He caught sight of Rose at the helm, but there was no one else on deck. First, he gave the men waiting below the signal to tie the gig to the man-ropes and join him. Then he leapt lightly over the railing and cautiously began to make his way over to her. Almost immediately, he found the first of her kills: a man lying face-up with his eyes and mouth wide-open and blood still oozing from his jugular.
The Surprises were following him he could tell, not from their footsteps, for they were moving with stealth, but from the slight rustling they made. The Walrus was a fine, well-made ship but ill-kept and slovenly. With a disapproving eye, Tom saw the peeling paint, loose lines, misplaced equipment, and haphazard securing of the boats. The crew was obviously lazy and the captain incompetent. He had known that pirates had little discipline, but he imagined one as successful as Old Flint had run a tighter ship than this.
The second body was crumpled next to the wheel. "Get those bodies overboard but quietly," he instructed. "Cooper, take the helm."
The grayness of predawn had begun to creep up on them, and one of the men handed Rose her bundle of sailcloth before going to help with the bodies. They timed it so the splashes would occur almost simultaneously because two splashes would be more likely to rouse any of the crew who might be awake. Many fish and sea creatures splashed in the sea, and the sound would raise no alarm.
As soon as there was enough light, the men went up to unfurl and tack the sails. Since they did not yet want to wake the Walrus's crew, no orders were shouted and only gestures were used. Not long passed before the wind filled the sails and the ship jumped forward to run up the windward side of the island. Round the narrow northernmost point they turned west and then south. Now the breeze was gentler and the sun lit the morning as they made their way down the leeward side of the island, safe from the other ships. The sails were then trimmed and furled to reduce speed, and soon they were cruising leisurely southward on the west coast of the island. They would sail right round and come to the south again.
"Now for the captain," said Tom with a glint of anticipation in his eyes. On the Walrus, the entrance to the captain's quarters was just below the quarterdeck, and cocking one of his pistols, he took two men with him.
Rose waited aft, at the rail, and there were voices, not over-loud, so it was impossible to judge the speakers' tones. In the morning light, she watched the deep blue of the sea and the merry dance of the waves. There was time, and she drew in a deep breath, then another and several more while recollections of other times and places lingered in her mind. When she heard them coming, she turned to regard the man who had been elected captain after her father's death.
Gerald Bantam was hastily dressed and looking sullen and angry as Tom lead him at pistol point. When he saw the lady's face, his eyes and mouth opened in shock. He was about fifty with graying hair and a weathered brown face. His eyes were somehow sly and calculating but also intelligent; now his whole face was honestly surprised to see the woman he recognized.
"Good morning, Mr. Bantam," she said with incongruous politesse. "Do you know who I am?"
"Aye, to be sure, you're Flint's gel as ever was," he replied breathlessly, still appearing stunned by the sight. "The Crimson Rose."