(no subject)
Mêlée used to be *such* a pirate haven, what with the Pirate Elders and the Scumm Bar and all... Now look at it; reduced to a shadow of its former glorious self, where even the Sword Master (who I beat and all I got was this lousy t-shirt) couldn't get a crew together (not that I'd recommend her - Carla, I love you, but not speaking to me just because of that little accident with the cannonball and the deck? Shame on you) and the Scumm Bar is no more.
Now, I enjoy sushi just as much as the next scurvy seadog, but the Scumm Bar was sacred - Sacred! - to us piratical types. It's no use sailing in after a hard day's plundering and settling down to a plate of raw fish when you're used to good ol' gut-rotting, mug-burning grog. Vive le Scumm Bar! I know Murray and I set up our own bar (and it's doing rather well, thanks), but one day, when I've made my piratey fortune, I'm going to buy that place back and set it right, rats in the vichysoise and all. Pirate food isn't supposed to be edible, I'm sure.
But anyway, that's all kinda beside the point. I was going to tell you all about the strange visitors we had yesterday; strange considering that this used to be a pirate island.
It's not every day you wake up, crawl out of your luxurious bed in the governor's mansion, throw open the balcony doors and spy a ship of Her Majesty's Navy down in the port. Elaine didn't seem to be too worried about this - she's really not a morning person so the only reaction I got to my frenzied 'ElaineelainetheresashipintheharbouranditsnotapirateithinkitsnavyandohmyGODwhatarewegoingtodothiswillbesobadforbusiness' was 'nnnph, a-mnnph-nph' followed by a pillow flying across the room and sailing neatly out of the open balcony doors. Judging from the surprised yelp, I'd say it caught the piranha poodles rather by surprise.
So I got dressed and went down to the harbour; it's really a pretty poor show when your harbourmaster's only part-time and doubles as the governor's husband. Anyway, there, sure enough, bobbing around at the end of the dock not fifty yards from the *shudder* sushi bar was the jolly-boat of a Navy frigate, the frigate herself standing a ways out to sea, just inside the bay. And currently removing himself from the jolly-boat was a tall, dark-haired lieutenant in a cocked hat and pristine breeches. Not that I notice these things. Oh no.
"Lieutenant Tom Pullings of the Surprise," he said, striding my way and tucking his hat under his arm, accompanied by a rather motley crew of foremast jacks in landgoing gear and probably the captain's coxswain.
"Guybrush Threepwood," I said, shaking his hand and suppressing the well-justified Mighty Pirate that usually follows my name as inevitably as night follows day or nausea follows rum. "Part-time harbourmaster and the governor's husband. You might notice we're not exactly a naval base here, Lieutenant - what can we do for you?"
Pullings nodded sharply. "The captain's aware of the state of the island, Mr. Threepwood," he said. "He just wondered as to whether you'd have any spare spars in your shipyard and if you'd have such a thing as a reliable water source. See, we ran afoul of the wind on the crossing and we're down to rainwater and ship's biscuits - have been for weeks now."
I paused. I felt for the guy - after all, on-ship rainwater tends to taste kinda like tar from the sails, and by the end of the crossing ship's biscuits probably weren't exactly tasting like a Sunday roast - but he was Navy by God! What if word got out that we'd been helping Navy? Well, it probably wouldn't do any harm, considering the fact that pretty much all the pirate residents Mêlée used to have either retired or moved to Tortuga.
"I'll see what I can do," I said, somewhat reluctantly. Pullings' face lit up and I grinned like a fool before I could stop myself. "My wife and I would be glad to have your captain and the officers to dinner tonight. About seven? The mansion's just up the hill there, but mind the piranha poodles."
***
I took the long way home after seeing Mr. Pullings back to his ship, via the municipal shipyard - long in that it takes you right in the opposite direction to the mansion and takes you past the troll. Anyway, apparently the snotty and rather barrel-like intendant's become pretty fond of me over the months and she actually gave me permission to hand over a couple of spars and yards and bundles of sailcloth to the Surprise (even without stealingthe Governor's seal!), so long as I sent the purser up to her in a timely fashion. I couldn't have been in the Navy. Much easier to steal what you need than sweet-talk the guy*cough*woman in charge of the stores.
I miss Stan. At least you knew where you stood with the guy, even if I did end up nailing him into a coffin. Even if he did end up selling insurance.
By the time I got home, Elaine had already heard all about the Surprises and had the cook hard at work; apparently they'd sent the captain's coxswain up to let us know there'd be ten for dinner, and Elaine, though not exactly impressed that I'd invited ten navy officers (well, four, the master, the Marine captain and lieutenant, the ship's surgeon and two undernourished midshipmen) up for dinner, was intent on giving them the best dinner they'd had since they'd weighed anchor in Portsmouth.
The captain was a guy by the name of Aubrey - a huge, hulking fella that reminded me of ol' Haggis back in Puerto Pollo, only less beardy and less disturbingly red-haired. Actually, he was a huge, hulking blond, with a red face and a bellow of a laugh. Probably would've made a good pirate, had he not been a post-captain.
Elaine did most of the talking. Apparently it's some sort of silly Navy custom that the other officers don't speak unless the Captain does, though you'd think that sort of thing would only apply at sea... or maybe they were just too busy gawping at my wife to force out much in the way of conversation. Besides, Elaine's good at talking and I've found it's mostly best to let her get on with it. Still, it was as pleasant an evening as you could ask for, considering we had so many dirty, pirate-hanging Navy men at our table.
They left late, sending compliments to the chef, and told Elaine they'd only be docked for a couple of days while they fixed up the ship. I walked them down to the harbour - Lieutenant Pullings and I arranged to have the Surprises drop by the Municipal Shipyard (oh, Stan's Previously Owned Ships, how I miss you...) the following morning (this morning), and that was that. I expected them to be... I don't know... Nastier. Kinda like Rottingham. Should I be worried that they were actually *gulp* likeable?
Anyway, they'll be gone soon; I can go back to taking the minutes of Elaine's island council meetings and brewing ordering in the booze for the bar.
((OOC note from the mun: For anyone who might be reading this, I've got absolutely nothing to do with the muns of theatrical_muse's jackaubrey, stephenmaturin and, errr, Will Blakeney. tom_pullings, however, was written in with the mun's permission (and may be dropping by in future.))