*Wordcount: 464 words.
The sails ruffled lazily in the wind, and the afternoon sun melted across the calm blue waters. The dock was bustling with activity, aside from the people standing in line to board the ship. It was quite a sight, with three sets of impressively tall sails and a frankly unnecessary amount of rope connecting it all. The words “Pirate Tours” were painted in bold white on the side, next to a painting of a jaunty pirate. An equally jaunty figure took a deep breath, and stepped on board.
“Arr, me mighty vessel!” shouted the jaunty figure, who also happened to be wearing a jaunty tri-corner hat.
“Nathan, please…” groaned the boring bloke who had followed him on board. “You said you weren’t going to do this!”
“Yar! ‘Tis a cruel world matey!” replied Nathan, with a dramatic look towards the horizon.
“Just call me Adam, please! And cut it out, that old couple is looking at us funny.”
Nathan didn’t respond, as he had gotten distracted by a particularly impressive rope.
Soon, the rest of the group had boarded and the ship was ready to go. The tour-guide made the appropriate announcements, the tourists looked appropriately impressed, and Nathan made an inappropriate comment about ‘grog’ and ‘wenches’. The ship’s motor kicked into life (it wasn’t a real pirate ship of course, simply a replica) and lurched out of the bay.
The tourists huddled around the tour-guide, who was no doubt sharing some fascinating history behind an especially ornate rope. Nathan, however, was standing to the side of the ship and staring out across the water. Adam was beside him, sharing the view.
“You know, this really is quite beautiful” admired Adam.
“Yaharr!” Arred Nathan.
“Except when you talk.” Adam sighed, “do you know when this ends?”
“In glorious death matey! The pirate’s life is… For life! Yar!” Nathan pulled an expertly concealed looking-glass out of his pirate-y coat and started scanning the seas.
“Call me Adam…” Adam gave up, and joined the rest of the group.
It was about half an hour later, while Adam and the group were enthralled in the tale of a wooden banister that may have been crafted by the Carpenter who Resides on The Dock himself, when Nathan shouted out.
The group didn’t even look; but Adam was socially obligated to inspect his friend, and moved up beside him
“Yarr! I spot other sails!” Nathan pointed.
“I don’t… Oh! Must be another group. I didn’t know they ran more than one ship.”
“We don’t,” said the suddenly interested tour-guide.
The new ship had black sails.
They found the rather jaunty wreckage a few days later, with a jaunty chap and a boring bloke sitting on a piece of the wreckage.
“It’s about time!”