The seas grew treacherous, the waves measured anywhere from 20 to 30 feet. Lightning struck all around, as the winds blew at 80 knots. (80 M.P.H.) The falling rain created almost zero visibility. Yet, as all this happened, the captain of the Neslo (ness-low) stayed silent, and still as he stood there at the bow of his ship. The rain fell hard, filling his three-point hat with water, his dark brown eyes didn’t even flinch as lightning struck less than two feet from the side of his vessel. He was calm, and collected. His dark skin bared the scars of almost a life time of pirating. His skin was so covered with scars, one could barely tell where one ended and the next began. This hardened, battle scared man went by the name Samuwell (pronounced sam-you-well).
He had seen much worse than the storm at hand, and had survived so many others, why should he be worried about this storm? He went to the helm and violently pushed the helmsman to the deck of the ship. “Get out of me way Goatee!” Samuwell yelled out. He sailed his ship out of the hurricane, and after days of battering winds and waves, they made it to calmer waters.
“Captain!” A deck hand hollered out, “There is a man on a raft who wants to come aboard.”
“Why should we care!?” Samuwell responded with his back to the crewman “He says he has a map. A treasure map.” Samuwell’s eyes light up. “Does he know who we are?”
“No sir.”
“Let him aboard.”
The man was tall, thin and dressed in tattered rags. He told the crew that he was the lone survivor of a shipwreck that was laden with treasure and had been held captive on an island for over a year, found enough driftwood to build a raft, and shoved off the island.
“He says, captain that he is willing to trade the map for a hot meal and passage to shore.”
Samuwell smiled, as he got an idea, then said, “Fix me a big meal, and have it and him sent to my quarters.”
Samuwell sat in his aging room, darkened by black shades, and dimly light by a single candle in each corner, one in the center of the table. And another on his desk. Roasted chicken, lobster, an assortment of fish, French bread, cheese, and red wine were on the table already when the man walked in the room. Samuwell got up from his desk, and walked slowly over to the head of the table. The man just stood there, while staring at the food.
“Sit down.” Samuwell said in a calm voice. The man briskly walked over to a seat, and looked back at Samuwell. The man just sat there, restraining himself to a great degree.
“You need not wait for my invitation.” Samuwell said. “You must be hungry.” The man quickly reached over the table and pulled a drumstick off the chicken and devoured it in a less than polite manner, once he got down to the bare bone, he pulled the lobster over to him and cracked the tail open, then ate the inside.
As the man sat there eating, Samuwell watched. “Tell me, while you were drifting around out there on the open ocean, have you seen a monster of a shark?” Samuwell said to the man.
“Not a monster of one.” The man said. “Why do you ask?”
“My crew and I have been hunting a massive great white shark by the name of Loca. He is a great beast, he was 25 feet long in 1696! Since then he has grown four feet longer! He has a large bounty on its head, we are going to claim it. We simply need to know where it is.” The man just shook his head as he convinced Samuwell that he hadn’t seen it.
“Now, tell me…good sir.” Samuwell began. “Where is this map that you are willing to trade? And just how long have you had it?”
The man looked up and said, “I be having dis map for about a full year. And it be in me right pants pocket …sir.”
“Good!” Samuwell shouted. Samuwell then reached under his coat, unsheathed his sword, ran over to the man and rendered his head from his shoulders. Samuwell then calmly walked over to the lifeless man, turned him over, reached into all of his pockets and relived him of all that he had, which was the map, a small note book, a whittled down pencil, and a pocket watch that didn’t work anymore. Samuwell called for his crew. They all rushed in with haste, he said to them, “Dispose of this filth.” As he motioned his head in the direction of the body that was now at the foot of the table. One man grabbed his hands, and another grabbed his feet, and a third took his head. Then they tossed the body overboard without an ounce of remorse. Samuwell unrolled the cloth map, studied it, then shouted out, “Goatee!” (A big man, with blondish hair, about 6 feet tall and a goatee that went from his chin, to half way down his chest, hence the name).
“Yes sir!” Goatee responded.
“Set a course west by south west!”
“On it sir.”
“We have some raiding to do!” Samuwell said as he smiled.
