A short time later, Long John Silver was standing before me, leaning on his crutch while his other hand was gently patting me on my shoulder in a gesture of sheer respect and appreciation. Both of these emotions were also present in his expression and voice, as with an actual tear of joy in his eye, that man rumbled in total satisfaction, "Ah, boyo, it does me grand to know that the younger lads like ye are carryin' on with proper piracy. I ain't seen for years now such a masterpiece of skullduggery like the one ye just sprung on us all. Takin' our entire plunder away from us under our very noses, that would've set ye up as a legend among pirates, fit to match Drake and Morgan and Long Ben Avery. Alas, the only thing stoppin' ye from actually becomin' the King of the Pirates was the wee mistake ye made, in that ye somehow neglected to set up yer own escape durin' the caper. Well, I mustn't keep the others waitin', but I want ye to know, for whatever it'll be worth durin' yer remainin' time in this world, that ye'll always have a special place in me heart. Now, if ye'll just excuse me, I'll be gettin' out of the line of fire."
After finishing that speech, Silver then sidled to the right a dozen yards, to finally make a quarter turn as the sea-cook stood on the sidelines of the village square, watching with amused interest that was shared by Englebert the parrot perched on his owner's shoulder, as I regarded what had been revealed behind that man when he'd moved off. Every single pirate standing there in the semi-circle before me was now steadily pointing some kind of weapon at various parts of my body. There were numerous flintlock pistols cocked and ready, poised to fire their rounds at the single twitch of trigger fingers, and there were also virtually every kind of bladed piratical weapon present: knives, cutlasses, boarding axes, and something that looked like an icepick. Which, considering we were on a tropical island, that latter weapon must have been brought here by some very optimistic pirate.
As I mulled that over, I was also watching the only seated pirate there, who had his own weapon brushing his mustache, with this hook doing that grooming in a thoughtful fashion until Captain You-Know-Who finally came to a decision. Lifting his other hand to make a patting gesture in the air, that pirate captain dryly commented, "Those of you scum who've got one, lower and safe your pistols. After all, we wouldn't want to make a mistake and shoot that bloody idiot over there right now, would we? Especially since it seems the only hope of us ever getting back our spoils means we have to keep him alive as long as it takes for him to talk."
A mutter of savage agreement came from the other pirates, as those who'd been aiming their pistols at me obeyed Hook's order and put away these weapons. That didn't exactly lift my spirits, however, as every one of them now pulled out their own knives or whatever, and they then checked the keenness of these blades with the ball of their thumb, giving me nasty grins all the while.
My attention got called back by a cleared throat, as their leader glowered at me, and then from his chair, Captain Hook politely inquired, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to save us - yourself included - all the necessary trouble and just make a clean breast of things? Otherwise, we'll start with a simple surgical operation that'll turn you into a soprano. That procedure not only has the advantage of being survivable, but the remains, once pickled in a sealed jar, can be sent to your friends as a reminder that unless they return our booty, they'll be receiving future gifts donated quite unwillingly by you. What do you say, young man?"
A sadistic cheer broke loose from the other pirates when Hook finished, accompanied by loud declarations of volunteering and several arguments between a couple of corsairs on who'd be the best one at the job, until exasperated elbow jabs in the ribs by their friends quieted down these disputants, as they all eagerly awaited my response.
I'm really sure that none of them expected me to put my fists on my hips, tilt back my head until I was looking up at the clear blue sky, and then yell at the top of my lungs, "LADIES, NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME!"
Bringing down my head, I saw that all of the pirates, Silver included, were now regarding me as if I'd suddenly gone insane. Until a moment later, accompanied by unusual noises abruptly coming from behind me and then getting closer, the gaze of every buccaneer there flickered away, to ignore me standing there, as they all now gaped past me at what was evidently coming up the main street of the pirate village towards us.
As for me, I allowed myself a very relieved smirk to appear on my face, as I then turned around at the sound of tramping feet intermingled with an odd swishing noise. Well, the latter was easy enough to figure out, as it was made by the swirling skirts brushing against the stomping legs carrying forward a mob of women in a line abreast and many others behind, a crowd of onrushing femininity that filled the entire street from where they'd been concealing themselves behind the structures lining this avenue, until I had summoned this group.
They were the pirate wenches.
Trulls, doxies, or whatever name came to mind, they were the companions of the pirates who'd come to this Caribbean setting, yet who lived apart from the men in their own, much cleaner village on the other side of the island. With good reason, as tartly explained to me by their leader, a tall, blonde, assured lady in her mid-forties: "We moved upwind as far as we could get away from those smelly drunks, who've never heard of deodorant, and if you offered them some anyway, they'd eat it!"
The killer glare of this same woman at the head of the oncoming female horde was now directed past me at all of the male pirates standing there in their semi-circle, making them hastily sheathe their weapons, as I glanced over my shoulder at this. A disbelieving Captain James Hook was seated there, his mouth hanging open in shock, while an equally stunned Long John Silver managed to gather his own wits quicker than his rival, for the man with the peg leg to then properly greet the pirate wenches.
As the blonde woman came to a stop in the middle of the street at the edge of the village square about ten feet from myself, followed by the halting of her entire followers giving their own cold stares at the male pirates now looking very sheepish, Silver snatched his hat off his head and hastily made the deepest, most respectful bow possible with his handicap, all while deferentially addressing the ruler of Pirate Wench Village, "Yer Ladyship, blessin's be on ye."
Mistress Joyce calmly received this obsequiousness in the manner of expecting nothing less, while also managing to totally ignore how Englebert the parrot, not anticipating his owner's sudden obeisance, had slid off with a panicky squawk of alarm from Silver's tilting shoulder, painfully landing right onto his beak on the square's hard cobblestones, and then waddling off while muttering avian curses under his breath about stupid humans.
Instead, she, along with her sister wenches that I'd been introduced to at their village - Anya, Kendra, Tara, Cordelia, Harmony, and so many more - now stared steadily at me for several moments. Until, finally satisfied, Mistress Joyce looked around at the accepting faces of the other women, firmly nodded to herself once, and as she gazed again at me, that lady put her hands at the sides of her skirts, grasped these, and then she gracefully curtseyed to me.