Buccaneers of the Bahamas

Chapter One

"Batten down the hatches! Half 'er twenty knots! I spy me a pearl in the sea!" "You're gonna have to be more specific, Louis," An apathetic, familiar voice called out. "Argh! Thar be Captain Louis to you!" "uh-huh. Captain Louis." 'First Mate' Dewey muttered facetiously. "Well, did I stutter? Stop this here ship, there's land over yonder!" Louis barked as Dewey scrambled to his feet. "God, why couldn't you say that in the first place?" "Why couldn't you understand me pointless pirate slang!?" "My God, it's 2017. NO ONE TALKS LIKE THAT. And besides, the use of your so-called 'pirate slang' and the idea of a pirate is so whitewashed from today's western society to the point where-""Quit yer blubberin', me boy! I'm the captain of this here ship, and I do whatever I darn well-"

The bizarre captain was cut off as the dilapidated ship suddenly hit the soft, golden sand, sinking into it as it glided to a stop. Dewey popped his head out from under deck. "Hey, look. I found land." He said monotonously.

"Oh, now look what ye made me do! Me poor baby's now a landlubber!" the captain cooed. "It's about time," Dewey consoled to the best of his ability. "This thing was ready to be put up in a museum years ago. Or a scrapyard. Whatever... floats your boat! But not this one 'cuz its definitely out of commission now, sir." "You shut yer trap!" Louis snapped. "We'll fix me baby in no time!"

"You mean get'er into... ship shape?" Dewey mused.

"... I'd fire ye if I could."

"Please do. ANYTHING would be better than this!"

"Nonsense! Ye still have yer debt to pay! And a pirate never goes back on his word!"

"...I should've just filled out the FAFSA."

"What madness are ye spewin'? Come along, first mate Delilah! There's booty to be procured!" Dewey turned pale. "Uh, actually, it's-""-BOOTY!" Louis bellowed as he took a running jump off of the boat. "Sir, wait! Be careful!" Dewey shouted after him. With a whoop, the captain leapt off of the front of the boat. "Oh God! Are you okay?" "Yes, me lad, I be right as rain! I'm just a little... sore. Y'know, young lad, lots of things get better wit' age, but arthritis may be the death of me." "Oh. Do you need me to get you, like, an orange or something?" "That's scurvy, lad! What kind'o first mate are ye?" "One who needs money to get a liberal arts degree." "A liberal arts degree!? Why, that'd be worth as much as the paper I use to wipe me bum with, ahahaha!" Dewey heaved a sigh as he gracefully leapt off of the miniscule repurposed vacation yacht, landing on the soft sand not far beneath him. Dewey inspected the dented, rusted exterior of the ship for fresh damage, examining the cracked letters painted on the side that read 'S.S. Rustbucket,' excluding the fact that a local vandal had 'rephrased' it to read as 'RustSuckIt.' Dewey restrained himself from snickering as the captain looked at his ship remorsefully. Dewey continued to inspect the dingy ship until he realized that the boat was submerged all the way up to the distasteful lettering about six feet from the bottom of the yacht. Digging his toe into the sand, Dewey came across a layer of clay about six inches under.

"Yeah, uh, I don't think we're going anywhere anytime soon," the first mate said submissively. "That doesn't matter, me lad. Look!"

Looking up at the skyline, Dewey saw what the captain was referring to. Being near sunset, the sky was shrouded with colorful oranges, pinks, and blues, further complimenting the verdant, full forest sprawled out in front of them. The forest was bustling with the calls of animals, some identifiable, some not. The lush flora poked out between the trees, creating a tasteful, aromatic scent that no Yankee Candle could replicate. The brilliant atmosphere in all of its glory was enough to make even the dilapidated yacht look as majestic as a Disney cruise.

"What an aesthetic," Dewey whispered.

"I don't understand ye landly register," Louis lethargically shot back. He shook out of his entrancement. "Beauty like this, surely she ain't been touched by the human plague!" "Uh, yeah, until now," Dewey chimed in, gesturing toward the S.S. RustSuckIt. "You know what this means, lad, this land is ours!" "Uh, yeah, I wasn't there or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's what good ol' Chris Columbus said." The first mate said bluntly. "Nonsense, laddie, yer killin' the mood! We be explorers; first to set foot on foreign soil! I hereby dub thee... Treasure Island!"

"Sir, due to copyright issues, we can't just-"

"Treasure Island!"

"Sir, this is probably, like, the Kardashian's private island or-"

"Treasure Island!"

"Sir, for all we know, we could be in, like, the Caribbean or-"

"Then we'll be The Pirates of the Caribbean!"

"OH MY GOD."