There on the edge of the cliff, huge and sinister in the moonlight, stood the tall, glowing shape of the pirate ghost. "So ye've come! And at the very hour I was after naming. I be much obliged, Lord Gilligan. Oh, begging your pardon, milord, but I believe that's me cutlass ye have there." The phantom advanced, booted feet making no sound on the grass, as his hollow voice chilled Gilligan's soul. "It's split many a sailor from collar to breeches, and I'm rather partial to it, so hand it over, if ye please."
Gilligan's feet felt made of lead. He backed up with horrible slowness, hypnotized by the impossible, glowing spectre. The pirate ghost chuckled as he closed inexorably in. "Where's your strut and swagger now, eh? Where's your, 'Ye'll hang for your crimes, Tom Scallion!' Ye were proud as a paycock, with your fine feathers and fancy ways! But t'is only the two of us now, Lord Gilligan." He drew his glowing sword and hefted it with terrible deliberation. "Soon to be only one!"
The sight of the sword shocked the terrified first mate into action. With a gasp he ducked as the sword whipped by at waist height, and he felt the cold blast sweep over his head. "Haaah!" roared the pirate, as Gilligan shot upwards, jumping the next blow like a gymnast. When he hit the ground he sprang up and started running towards the jungle. "Hah hah! Ye can't run, matey! I'm a spectre now! I can move like the wind in the sails!"
Gilligan came to a full skidding stop as the pirate appeared in front of him, hands on hips, laughing. He spun and dashed in the opposite direction, making for the cliff edge in his blind panic. But before he could reach it, his foot slipped in the loose sand, send him sprawling. The cutlass flew from his hands. Crawling desperately for it, he groped in the grass and shot a terrified look behind him to where the glowing pirate was advancing with murderous speed.
Gilligan's hand closed on something cold, smooth and long, and he thrust out in front of himself defiantly. But when they both caught sight of the object, the pirate threw back his head and laughed all the harder.
It wasn't the cutlass at all: it was an old-fashioned telescope, rusted and dirt-encrusted with age, and the end of it actually sagged forward, like a wilted palm frond. Gilligan's eyes widened with horror and despair.
"Get up and fight, ye coward!" The pirate raised his sword for the last time.
Gilligan turned his head and shut his eyes, steeling himself for the blow, when suddenly a new voice behind him rang out through the clearing. "Avast, Scallion! Let him alone, I say! It's me you want!"
He heard something clang, and heard the pirate curse furiously. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and looked overhead to see the pirate with his sword still upraised, because a second glowing blade had parried it and was staunchly blocking its descent. An arm clothed in shimmering white silk and lace cuffs held the sword aloft.
The new voice laughed, a clear, ringing, joyous sound. "Surrender, knave, while you still can!" The white arm pushed the pirate ghost off balance, and Gilligan sat up as the second figure vaulted over him and forced the pirate back.
Gilligan rubbed his eyes in disbelief. A young swordsman had leapt into the clearing, dressed from head to foot in white: a billowing white shirt, skin-tight white knee breeches, white stockings and boots, and a wide-brimmed, white hat with a pluming white feather that dipped and wafted as he moved. He drove the pirate back in a flurry of spectacular blows, and the two glowing figures slashed, swirled, advanced and retreated about the clearing in a swift, fantastic dance. The man in white was amazingly nimble and graceful, his slender form a total contrast with the pirate's dark, ungainly, hacking bulk. He laughed again, as though he were quite enjoying himself, infuriating the bewildered pirate.
"Damn ye, Lord Admiral! So you're fish-bait as well! Who's the young sprat with me cutlass, then?"
"He's flesh and blood - my flesh and blood, I dare say." With a lightning riposte, the man in white tossed the pirate's sword in the air. It arced up, flickering, and vanished. The pirate cursed. "This ain't finished, Lord Gilligan!" he hissed, and vanished in a burst of weird light.
The clearing was suddenly peaceful again. The man in white chuckled, sheathing his sword. Then he turned to Gilligan, flashing a brilliant smile. Gilligan sucked in his breath, astonished.
Beneath the foppish hat was his own face: his own shock of dark hair, his own wide blue eyes, his own nose and mouth, save for a neat black moustache waxed to perfection and curled slightly at both ends. The young swordsman seemed only slightly older than he was. Gilligan clutched a tree for support and felt his way to his feet, wondering if he was dreaming.
His double strode over and saw the telescope in Gilligan's hand. "Why, lad, I see you found my telescope. Lucky thing for you, what? Looks as though that's what brought me back, and just in the nick of time, I shouldn't wonder!"
Gilligan was shaking his head back and forth. "I don't believe it! It--it can't be you!"
The man in white smiled and preened his moustache. "You know me, then?""Know you? I've heard about you all my life! Gosh, I've even dreamt I was you! You're the reason I followed the sea! You're my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather! Lord Admiral Horatio Gilligan of the Royal Navy!"
"The bravest, most daring swordsman in the fleet," Lord Admiral Gilligan announced, sweeping off his hat and making a courtly bow. "Delighted to make your acquaintance."
Gilligan snatched off his sailor's cap. "The pleasure's mine! I just don't believe it! Th-thanks for saving my life!"
"Not at all. I could hardly allow so handsome a lad to fall prey to a rapscallion like Tom Scallion! Especially not my own great, great, great...great...uh..." the man in white hesitated, losing his poise for the first time. "What year did you say it was?"
"Oh, I didn't. But it's 1967," Gilligan said helpfully.
"Good heavens! Nearly two hundred years!" He smiled approvingly at Gilligan. "Well, the line's breeding true, I'll swear to that. You must take after my side of the family."
"Guess so."
"And you followed in my footsteps, you say? How splendid! By gad, your ship must be a fine one, to have carried you all this way." The Lord Admiral swung round, gazing about at the moonlit sea and jungle as his descendant continued to stare at him in wonder. "This island wasn't even on the map when I landed here. What was His Majesty pleased to name it?"
"Oh--" Gilligan tried to come back to earth. "Uh--he hasn't. And it isn't. On the map, I mean." At the Lord Admiral's quizzical expression, Gilligan tried to explain. "Nobody knows the island's here, or that we're here, either. You see, sir--Lord Admiral, sir--we were shipwrecked," he finished sheepishly.
"By Drake's drum! You don't say! Well, don't look so downcast about it, lad. These southern seas are plagued with tempests, and the reef beyond yon cliff is deadly! Tom Scallion's Sea Witch was smashed to pieces on it! And so would the H.M.S. Fortitude have been, if I hadn't ordered the sails struck and the anchor dropped when we saw them strike the reef." The Lord Admiral strode forward and pointed out over the cliff. "It was just there - I'll never forget it, not as long as I--ah--not ever, I mean. Lud, it was devilish quick. She broke up like a breached keg of rum. Most of the pirates never made it to shore."
Gilligan looked out over the cliff edge and shuddered. "Gosh...we drifted in to the bay on the east shore. We hit a few rocks and the Minnow ended up full of holes, but we stayed afloat until we beached. Boy, were we lucky!"
"Luckier still that you escaped the cannibals," Lord Admiral Gilligan remarked.
"Cannibals?" Gilligan gasped, then remembered. "Oh, yeah! Back at the pit. The professor says there've been all kinds of them here: the Marubi, the Kupa Kai...headhunters still land here every so often, but we've always managed to scare them off. At least no cannibals live here permanently anymore." A sudden awful thought struck him and he looked up at the ghost with horror and pity. "Oh...that barbecue pit...you weren't one of their...I mean...were you?"
The Lord Admiral flashed his dazzling smile again and shook his head. "Did the rascals make a meal out of me, do you mean? Never fear, lad. Lord Admiral Horatio Gilligan was far too clever for those savages - though Tom Scallion and his men weren't quite so fortunate." He chuckled. "I daresay he gave them the deuce of a bellyache, and serve them all right!"
"So, what did happen to you?"
The ghost gestured towards a fallen tree trunk nearby. "Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale – a tale of a fateful trip!"