Author's note: It's been 30 years since it came out, how come I haven't thought of this before? ARGH! Legends of Treasure Island (1993-95), which I watched a few years later and felt in love with at first sight, deserves a good shout out, by thunder! I hope more shall join me in this swashbuckling project. A few changes are in order, of course, but I'll do me best. I recently found Dawn French and Richard E. Grant in Sackboy (playing again hero and villain); and I got the shivers. It's time to set the stage again! Ahoy!

The show belongs to its rightful owners and Treasure Island (my favourite book in the world) to wonderful over-awesome R.L. Stevenson.

1. The Old Ways (Part 1)

(The Legends of Treasure Island Musical Intro)

There were times when the stories seemed too real, others when it was only a dream and nothing more. Well-trimmed ships, canon blasting through the waves, golden doubloons, blood, glimpses of other worlds, curses, monsters and pirates… Lots of pirates! If his father wasn't an honest man, Jim Hawkins could have sworn that he used to roam the oceans with that blood thirsty lot, committing pillage and murder overseas. The neighbors thought so too, hence why they gathered at dawn in the inn to listen to yet another story (for the tenth or twentieth time on a row that is), to hear about life-threatening adventures, maps and treason on the other side of the ocean.

Life on that small village was just too boring. Not like Hawkins Senior complained about it, but his regulars hated anything to do with life at the capital. Gossip was not scarce in such place, but aside from small things, there was nothing really tasty on the air. No, sir, at least not when you want it.

Jim had enough helping with the inn and watching over his father, who had grew weaker and more ill with each passing year. Many stories were put on held due to a cough and others never made it to port. The old Benbow Inn had plenty to say, yes, but its owner was running out of breath. So it wasn't at all rare to the see Dr. Livesey standing near the bar alongside James, watching over his old friend and ready to step in with each fit of coughing. "Rum will do you in" repeated the good old physician over and over again, but the boy was under the impression that his father was anxious about something else.

Each night, like a well-tuned clock, Hawkins Senior looked through his spyglass and sighed. Was he looking for some sailor friend or avoiding them all? It was hard to tell. Jim was content mostly with the answers he found in the stories, even though they were quite vague and hard to tell apart from reality. There is no such thing as haunted caves or mermaids, is there? And yet, the details seemed so precise. Captain Flint, the terrible buccaneer was real, there was no question about it. Before his disappearance overseas, he plundered every ship that had crossed paths with him for twenty years. Very few other sailors dared to cross swords with him and only the legend of his vast treasure seemed to the only believable point. Where was it hidden, however, was another matter. A completely different matter that only Hawkins Senior could know about; but just like his other stories, that one became lost in the haze of spirits and midnight rum until one fateful night, when it all happened.

It was on a dark and stormy night on the coast of Bristol. The usual crowd, the grog spilling like an ocean, winds racking each window and, among the heavy-eyed customers and drunkards, a figure in red with fiery eyes listened carefully as the tale of Hawkins Senior came to its last act. Had the old innkeeper had noticed this presence before, our tale had not come to be, but alas! So it must be. For the sake of all of those dark souls that haunted the docks that night.

The clients didn't fully believe the tale, as you might figure, but even that was no reason for them to leave. Jim could almost see his father helping a dying Flint, whose ever-present limp was hard to miss, to run from the blood-thirsty mutineers. Did the boy's father really held Flint in his last breath and hid away the map? Or was it just another clever tale? A fit of coughing cut the story short and the answer, once again, was lost.

"Come, my old friend, I'll show you to your room" said Dr. Livesey as the customers began to depart asking themselves how was Hawkins Senior able to leave such place, something even his son had wondered about many times. "Jim, be a good lad, and close the bar for the night"

"Yes, doctor" nodded the boy watching them leave. The storm had not ceased outside, crashing against the shutters like an ocean wave and nearly breaking the trembling windows. Jim closed them tight, hoping to join his father soon when he heard a loud rapping at the door. Soldiers did that with their whips during raids, but who could be doing such a thing at this late hour? The storm had kept even the boldest smuggler at home, so what kind of fool would try his sails that night? Jim left his loyal broom aside and opened the door. His heart almost stopping as he did. A huge, dark-furred nightmare stood before him, its tongue hanging sideways and an old shackle shone in his left wrist as it smiled like a mad man.

"Buenas noches, pequeño" greeted the wild dog in Spanish. His eyes shining bright like a lamplight. Jim had never seen or heard a sailor such as this one. The shackle was clearly of a runaway slave, but he was unlike the usual clients of the inn. Furthermore, nobody in the country was like this ferocious beast. "Good evenin', pup. Is your Papá home tonight? Is yer father here?"

"Wh-who are you?" it took the boy a few minutes to find his voice again.

"An old friend, mi niño. Got business with him" the man had a heavy accent. "Ye must be his son, yes? Y'all seem like a smart child" a toothy smile shone on the man's face. "The name's Emmett but me friends call me 'Mad Dog'" Jim noticed then that two of his fingers had been cut off from his left hand.

"He's resting, I'm afraid he won't able to see you" answered the lad.

"I will not be long, I promise. Just some friendly chat, ponernos al día y esas cosas" insisted his visitor. One of his hands playfully touching his cutlass, knowing the matter ahead could not depend on the decision of a child.

"Very well, I'll show you. But no tricks" Jim leaned his broom against a wall before taking Emmett to his father's room. The old man's expression was not of happiness, but there was no fear in the innkeeper's eyes either once he saw who it was.

"So good to see you, amigo mío" the wild dog took off his hat and walked into the room bearing a polite smile.

"Emmett" James Senior nodded. "Jim, wait outside and make sure that all doors are closed and lanterns are off"

"Yes, father" the boy didn't like it one bit, hoping to find an excuse to stay. Emmett gave away a chuckle and began to whistle nonchalantly, making Jim's hair stand up. Whoever or whatever this creature was, it surely knew how to get rid of uninvited listeners.

"Run along now, Jim ma boy. And keep a sharp eye, jovencito. Ye're gonna need it real soon" the wild dog moon blinked and closed the door. Several minutes afterwards and before going back to his broom, still unsure about their visitor, Jim walked near his father's bedroom and heard them talking.

"No, no, no, no; and an end of it!" the old man cried once. And again, "If it comes to swinging, swing all, say I"

"Y así será, James. All in due time, but I think I don't need to tell ye who's looking for ye right now. Capt'n said that the Plan is now, but you're no good for sailing, Jimbo. Ye owe us a score, nevertheless, and if ye can't get it…" Emmett didn't lose his cool.

"I haven't forget, by thunder! But if I can do it, me son will"

"The boys will not go as easy as me with him, Jaimito. They need more than just words" said the wild dog.

"Are they around here, then?" asked the man.

"Every night, I'm just the delivery man. El mensajero divino" Emmett seemed to enjoy the moment.

"I see. Then, I'll ask only one thing from you" Hawkins Senior considered for a few seconds.

"Only one? ¿Sólo una? James, darling, that hurts" the visitor laughed. Jim could not hear the next part, but could tell it was important. "Very well. Tú ganas. It shall be done as a last favour, amigo mío. Just make sure to leave nothing in this port after I'm gone" Emmett nodded. The boy was beginning to feel uneasy with his spying so he went across the courtyard back to his chores. Jim didn't saw the strange visitor leave but, about an hour later, he did watch as a figure in a red cloak, the very same one he had distinguished among the crowd, slipping a note under his father's door. Now that couldn't be good at all, especially when it caused the old man to pass out.

"Father!" Jim ran to his aid. "Help! Somebody please! Dr. Livesey! Doctor!" screamed the young man. Making haste the medic appeared at once.

"He's found me" whispered the innkeeper as they helped him up. "It's too late now"

"Never mind that now, my friend. Let's get you in bed" Livesey carried him to the only place where he could gather his bearings.

"It's the Black Spot" said Hawkins Senior as Jim picked it up from the ground. A single ink blot could be found in a piece of paper. For some, it might seemed more like a childish prank but the boy knew from his Father's stories that such a sign was never of good tidings.

Ѻ

Meanwhile, somewhere else in town, matters where beginning to take speed beyond Jim's acknowledge.

"Are we ready then, lads?" a raspy voice asked, while getting ready for the attack. Putting on his shirt, the whip marks on his back were harder to see for others but were still fresh in the man's mind. Getting up, a rapping sound echoed in the room. "I hate mak'ng old frends wait"

"We're ready, Capt'n" said his first mate.

"Good. Get the girl out, just in case. I want y'all at yer worst"

First bullet in and ready for more!

Not gonna put the whole episode in one take, gotta keep some for what's to come. So happy to have you all here, crew!

Next stop: Two Pennies for Hell.