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"The Castaway"

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Thu 25/05/06 at 09:21
Regular
"WhaleOilBeefHooked"
Posts: 12,425
Squawking parrots, performing monkeys with patches over their eyes and mounds of treasure, that’s what a pirate’s life should be. But, alas, for former Captain Johnny ‘Rum Breath’ Boot his current situation was far from the fairy tale pirate life.

Boot sat in a shallow grave of sand as his mighty galleon sailed away across the blue rolling hills that were the waves that surrounded the island where Boot was currently stranded. He let out a sigh, took off his pointed jet black hat and stared deeply into the skull and crossbones that labelled a true pirate’s hat. He placed it beside him and then removed his mucky eye patch. Boot’s eye wept: it hadn’t seen the light of the sun for a very long time, as it adjusted to the new conditions Boot reflected on what had happened and how it went wrong.

“Gharr-harr-harr! There be treasure says I!” the enthusiastic voice of the swaying body of Captain Boot spoke these words out to an unconvinced crew. They looked at each other cautiously. “What? Don’t ye believe in ya Cap’in?”

The faces of the crew looked down to the oak panelling of solid floor of the sturdy ship. Silence continued to meet the captain’s question so he repeated the enquiry. One member of the crew, dressed in a blue and white striped top with baggy grey trousers, fastened with a length of rope, answered, looking directly into the Captain’s dark eyes, “Well… we’ve been at this now for several moons and… well, what have we got from it? Nothing! I’m sorry, Captain, but we need to move on from this treasure obsession of yours!”

The captain looked deeply offended, he clenched his fists tightly, “Aye. Well, maybe it be true, but I be Cap’in, see?” With this he jumped down from the wooden crate he was making prophecies on and took strong strides towards the man who had dared question his authority. “So ye be walking then, aye?”

“I’m sorry, Captain?”

“Aye, ye be walking.” He pushed the other crew members aside and made his way to the edge of the boat, he looked over the edge into the wallowing sea below. He pulled a mighty beam of oak across the deck and balanced it over the edge. “Off with ya then!”

A pale face of the crew member looked at him, “Y-y-you can’t be serious, Captain?”

“Aye, didn’t think ye’d be walking. Now to the rest of ya, get back to work! And, Mr Navigator, set course to… over there! Aye, that’s where there be treasure!” Boot pointed vaguely in one direction and then took a rum bottle from his pocket, supped and then returned to his quarters.

“Land, dead ahead, sir!” a shrill scream woke the captain from his drunk sleep, a smile crept over his face, he placed his hat on and walked towards the main deck.

A small golden-coloured island could be seen on the horizon. Every gust of wind took them closer and the island appeared to grow in size. Soon the ship was on the edge of the shallows, as soon as the captain had finished boasting about how his prophecies were correct he gave the order to lower the small, five man wooden rowing boats, which dripped salty water as they were dropped into the crystal clear water below. The crew carefully made their way down the poorly constructed ladders that led to the boats; the captain did the same but stumbled drunkenly. Shovels and pick axes were also lowered.

Boot sang merrily all the way to the sandy shore where the crew dismounted and dragged the boats onto higher ground. “Start looking for the cross, my friends!” yelled Boot, finding it hard to contain his excitement.

Soon Boot had managed to find a tree that slightly resembled a cross shape and commanded the others to begin the dig. They started enthusiastically with a song driving them deeper into the hard crust of the island.

An hour soon passed and the digging process had slowed significantly, the trench contained nothing but rocks and pieces of roots. The promised contents were obviously not there. Resentment started to flow among the crew towards the captain, who was now fast asleep against a soft tuft of grass, under the influence of rum. His crew all looked at each other and, in sequence, nodded to each other; they started the trek back to the boats on the shore.

‘Aye, maybe I did push them too far with my treasure expeditions,’ thought Boot as he sat on the gleaming sand, looking out at sea as his ship faded into the horizon as a small dot. He sighed, reached into his pocket and retrieved his rum bottle; he had a swig and then licked his lips. The dignified captain then laid on his back on the surface of the beach and placed his hat over his face and drifted off into another alcohol fuelled sleep.
Wed 19/06/13 at 10:23
Staff Moderator
"Must lose weight"
Posts: 5,778
This was here in 2006
Thu 25/05/06 at 17:53
Regular
"WhaleOilBeefHooked"
Posts: 12,425
Yeah, I'd have liked to have taken it further, but it was one of those short stories you have to write under timed conditions for GCSE (with a set title) so I had to end it quicker than I wanted, but I think it fits the task I had to do quite well. Plus I don't think anyone can go wrong with a pirate story. :-P
Thu 25/05/06 at 16:24
Moderator
"possibly impossible"
Posts: 24,985
Very salty and sea-doggy.

Didn't really go anywhere though, it sounds like there is more to come?
Thu 25/05/06 at 09:21
Regular
"WhaleOilBeefHooked"
Posts: 12,425
Squawking parrots, performing monkeys with patches over their eyes and mounds of treasure, that’s what a pirate’s life should be. But, alas, for former Captain Johnny ‘Rum Breath’ Boot his current situation was far from the fairy tale pirate life.

Boot sat in a shallow grave of sand as his mighty galleon sailed away across the blue rolling hills that were the waves that surrounded the island where Boot was currently stranded. He let out a sigh, took off his pointed jet black hat and stared deeply into the skull and crossbones that labelled a true pirate’s hat. He placed it beside him and then removed his mucky eye patch. Boot’s eye wept: it hadn’t seen the light of the sun for a very long time, as it adjusted to the new conditions Boot reflected on what had happened and how it went wrong.

“Gharr-harr-harr! There be treasure says I!” the enthusiastic voice of the swaying body of Captain Boot spoke these words out to an unconvinced crew. They looked at each other cautiously. “What? Don’t ye believe in ya Cap’in?”

The faces of the crew looked down to the oak panelling of solid floor of the sturdy ship. Silence continued to meet the captain’s question so he repeated the enquiry. One member of the crew, dressed in a blue and white striped top with baggy grey trousers, fastened with a length of rope, answered, looking directly into the Captain’s dark eyes, “Well… we’ve been at this now for several moons and… well, what have we got from it? Nothing! I’m sorry, Captain, but we need to move on from this treasure obsession of yours!”

The captain looked deeply offended, he clenched his fists tightly, “Aye. Well, maybe it be true, but I be Cap’in, see?” With this he jumped down from the wooden crate he was making prophecies on and took strong strides towards the man who had dared question his authority. “So ye be walking then, aye?”

“I’m sorry, Captain?”

“Aye, ye be walking.” He pushed the other crew members aside and made his way to the edge of the boat, he looked over the edge into the wallowing sea below. He pulled a mighty beam of oak across the deck and balanced it over the edge. “Off with ya then!”

A pale face of the crew member looked at him, “Y-y-you can’t be serious, Captain?”

“Aye, didn’t think ye’d be walking. Now to the rest of ya, get back to work! And, Mr Navigator, set course to… over there! Aye, that’s where there be treasure!” Boot pointed vaguely in one direction and then took a rum bottle from his pocket, supped and then returned to his quarters.

“Land, dead ahead, sir!” a shrill scream woke the captain from his drunk sleep, a smile crept over his face, he placed his hat on and walked towards the main deck.

A small golden-coloured island could be seen on the horizon. Every gust of wind took them closer and the island appeared to grow in size. Soon the ship was on the edge of the shallows, as soon as the captain had finished boasting about how his prophecies were correct he gave the order to lower the small, five man wooden rowing boats, which dripped salty water as they were dropped into the crystal clear water below. The crew carefully made their way down the poorly constructed ladders that led to the boats; the captain did the same but stumbled drunkenly. Shovels and pick axes were also lowered.

Boot sang merrily all the way to the sandy shore where the crew dismounted and dragged the boats onto higher ground. “Start looking for the cross, my friends!” yelled Boot, finding it hard to contain his excitement.

Soon Boot had managed to find a tree that slightly resembled a cross shape and commanded the others to begin the dig. They started enthusiastically with a song driving them deeper into the hard crust of the island.

An hour soon passed and the digging process had slowed significantly, the trench contained nothing but rocks and pieces of roots. The promised contents were obviously not there. Resentment started to flow among the crew towards the captain, who was now fast asleep against a soft tuft of grass, under the influence of rum. His crew all looked at each other and, in sequence, nodded to each other; they started the trek back to the boats on the shore.

‘Aye, maybe I did push them too far with my treasure expeditions,’ thought Boot as he sat on the gleaming sand, looking out at sea as his ship faded into the horizon as a small dot. He sighed, reached into his pocket and retrieved his rum bottle; he had a swig and then licked his lips. The dignified captain then laid on his back on the surface of the beach and placed his hat over his face and drifted off into another alcohol fuelled sleep.

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