"YEEEOOOOWWWW!"
I was mulling over what the older pirate had told me, until my attention, and also the entire crowd's, was diverted by that sudden howl of agony at the top of someone's lungs. As we all looked around in surprise for who'd just done that, and why, I then heard a deep sigh from next to me, "Dear, dear, every once in a while, himself still forgets that he has to be extra careful, ever since that pesky big reptile enjoyed his hand. Excuse me, laddie, but I'll be needed, I'm sure."
With that strange comment, the Irish pirate then purposefully bustled off, right towards where the mob of pirates was now watching something with utter fascination. A cramped alley littered with garbage ran off from the main street, and in this passageway, there was a small wooden shack, now rocking back and forth. It was easy enough to recognize the purpose of this crude shed, even without the numerous flies currently buzzing around it, as the narrow door of the rickety structure had the usual air-hole carved near the top of this panel. Though, instead of the normal half-moon shape of the obligatory ventilation aperture, a skull and crossbones had been cut into the door of the Little Pirates' Room.
In the next moment, the door of the outhouse burst open, and a tall man swearing vilely under his breath staggered out of the shack, taking a step into the alley, with all of his attention then being fully concentrated on stuffing his shirttail back into his pants, a course of events in adjusting his flamboyant clothing that was made even more difficult by the fact that this guy's right hand was missing, and in its place there was an iron hook ending in a wicked point, with this curved rod attached to a metal cup at the end of his right arm. Still, he expertly threaded his hook through a belt-loop to hold up his trousers while his other arm finished tucking away his shirt, and while looking down to check on this, that man absently bellowed, "SMEE!"
We could easily hear that, including the now-identified Irish pirate's cheerful response of, "Aye, Cap'n?" since the whole frozen crowd of us was intently observing and listening to this in total silence, including when that seaman's captain ignored his underling's sudden appearance in the alley, to instead twist around to reach for his ornate hat with a luxurious ostrich plume attached, yanking this from a peg on the back of the outhouse door, clapping this fancy headgear onto his cranium, as he turned back around and began giving orders.
"Smee, I want you to leg it to the ship-"
"-and bring back your special salve for these regrettable occasions, aye, aye, Cap'n." Smee finished off that disconcerting interruption without showing any particular surprise, to then earnestly continue. "Twill be done as quick as a wink, your ruthlessness, but would you also be wantin' your most comfy pillow, with all the restin' of your fundament today upon that chair that's harder than the heart of any English landlord ever born?"
"That would be a good-" This time, it was the captain who interrupted himself, abruptly cutting off his words as he finally turned to face the mouth of the alley and saw us all there standing in the square with wide grins on our faces looking back at that man. As he stood there like a statue, the left corner of his mouth opened a crack to hiss, "Smee, you idiot, why didn't you say something?"
"Er…" uneasily gulped Smee, his normal good humor having abruptly deserted him, and the Irishman began to sidle away down the alley out into the street, staying well out of the reach of his master, as he then called over his shoulder, "I'll just be goin' now, Cap'n, dear. Even so, I'm still sure you'll be doin' your usual grand job of winnin' the wonder and admiration of our gallant gatherin' and makin' them all forget whatever minor embarrassments that might have occurred today, please, God. Well, I'll be back soon, oh, maybe…sometime around Easter, say?" The sound of stampeding footsteps now hung in the Caribbean air, as a quick blur of action showed where Bos'n Smee had hastily taken to his heels.
Glaring after his loose-lipped minion, who was going to pay for that (something on the order of a nice keelhauling, at the very least), the captain was distracted from his fury at Smee by various sniggers arising from the back of the watching crowd. His face quickly shifting into haughty dignity, the pirate captain then stalked forward, with the other corsairs hurriedly making way for him, though they still had serious smirks on their features as the tall man then headed for the chair in the middle of the square. When he reached that piece of furniture, the pirate captain wheeled around, and then he seated himself with majestic deportment. Unfortunately, despite himself, that man's countenance momentarily contorted in deep distress the instant his full weight came down upon his aching rear.
The entire crowd, myself included, now roared with laughter, right up to the very moment the seated captain possessing a set face then calmly lifted up his right arm, and he next abruptly slammed down what had replaced his right hand onto the end of the chair's armrest, with the needle-point of his hook stabbing into the wood with a bowel-loosening THUNK! sound.
Every single person there that had been laughing instantly shut up, with it then being quiet enough for all of us to hear the cracking of that pirate's hook being wrenched out of the chair, with a deep gouge left as a reminder of his threatening action. Glancing around the cowed crowd, a thin smile lifted the man's lips under his neatly-trimmed mustache as he gingerly leaned back in the chair, and Captain James Hook was satisfied that those gutless curs once more remembered his fearsome reputation.
Casting a cold eye upon the waiting assembly, the nemesis of a certain boy that never grew up now spoke in a deep, strong voice that rang throughout the square. "Lads, we are convened here today for our daily gathering of the Brotherhood of the Coast as is our custom, to share news that concerns us all, to answer any rumors and questions you might have, and to carry out the matters of administering our village. Well, at our last meeting, we had no old business, so we don't need to trouble ourselves with that. That leaves only any new business. Someone? Anybody? No? All right then, roll out the rum casks, and let's start drinking."
An ecstatic cheer came from the parched pirates, leaving me standing there stunned, as things had happened a bit too fast, despite the warnings from my advisors that this was likely to happen. Okay then, time to get busy. I promptly stuck my fingers between my lips, and blasted through them the longest, loudest, and shrillest whistle I could manage.
When I finally ran out of breath, I looked around to see the crowd of buccaneers had backed away from me, with those guys shifting into a semi-circle in the clearing that now had them all facing me. In the middle of the arc was a one-handed captain seated in his shaded chair, and giving me a truly malevolent glower that sent chills down my spine as I stood there in the hot sun of the square, facing down a couple of dozen pirates.
"Was there an actual reason for that very indecorous act, young feller-me-lad?" menacingly purred Captain Hook, who managed to sound much, much scarier than the Disney or stage version of him.
I gave another look around at every one of those scarred, vicious, hell-raising, fiercest sea-wolves now beadily eyeing me with ready wickedness, all of them appearing quite willing to cut my throat between quaffs from their flagons just for fun, and I said as steadily as I could, "I'm here to declare myself the King of the Pirates!"