Long John Silver took a fancy to him when the pirates raided the ship en route to the new plantations in the Caribbean. The Lord had obviously saved him for a greater purpose, which was appropriate given his pastoral calling.
‘A man of God, hey?’ The pirate captain smirked, reaching out to caress the reverend’s cheek with the blunt rounded edge of his iron claw.
‘Man of God, man of God,’ the parrot on the captain’s black-clothed shoulder squawked. The bird’s yellow, green and blue plumage gleamed like treasure under the hot tropical sun.
‘You can read then, hey?’ Long John said.
The reverend nodded. ‘Of course,’ he said, tart at the stupidity of the question.
Triumph glowed in the pirate’s black eyes. He waved his musket, held in his good hand, and shouted to his men to bring the ship about and head to the island. The sailors apparently knew which island among this wealth of islands, because no one raised a question. They scurried to their places, having first denuded the raided ship of anything worth stealing, sent its crew to Davey Jones’ Locker and cursed the absence of women on board.
Two days they sailed a calm azure sea before landing on a scrap of sand edged with palm trees. The pirates set about gathering firewood, and before the sun set with the immoderate and showy haste the reverend deplored as unChristian, soaring flames broke the darkness. Stars glittered overhead, and a rising monstrous moon set a path of silver from the horizon to the shore, straight as a plank jutting from a ship’s deck.
The reverend glanced about him, curling his lips. The pirates took no time at all getting drunk. Their captain hurried to be the drunkest, perched on a treasure chest which the reverend only now noticed. He blinked. Where had it come from?
‘Now, man of God,’ Long John Silver called, bottle to his lips. ‘Here we be having a pirate party. Right, me hearties?’ He called to his brigands, who raised their own various drinking utensils and shouted Right into the blackness loud enough to wake the devil …
Which … The reverend stared at the captain. The bird was gone from his shoulder, no doubt seeking its own revelry among the trees. The captain’s black coat was open at the front and … the reverend squinted through the dancing firelight.
A skeletal form inside, and even as the reverend took a step back in horror, the pirate’s weathered face withered to a skull, mouth open swigging from the bottle.
The apparition spoke to the reverend. ‘Get yer Bible out, man of God, because tonight you read at a pirate party and the words of God read by a man of God will take this accursed curse delivered on me by another of your kind.’ Long John Silver waved the bottle. ‘Afore he died of a slit throat o’ course, and his praying missionaries with him.’
The reverend blanched. Hastily he whipped out the small leather bible he kept close to his heart in his coat pocket. He opened it at random. And read as if his life – and soul – depended on it.
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HE READ AT A PIRATE PARTY
Bob Read was used to kid’s parties. After all, being a clown and performing all sorts of wondrous tricks at these gatherings constituted a welcome addition to his normal income as a bus driver and enabled him to afford some of life’s little luxuries, such as annual holidays interstate or abroad with his wife and children.
However, this latest invitation was a little different. The parents wanted him to read at a pirate party – and presumably not dressed as a clown.
First things first – he needed a suitable outfit, presumably one reflecting the theme of the party.
Secondly, what on earth was he supposed to read to entertain a bunch of seven-year-olds.
Perhaps a good pirate story. Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island sprang to mind, and was immediately dismissed as being too old and bloodthirsty for the age group in question.
Besides, telling such a lengthy tale would no doubt only result in a lot of fidgeting and restlessness. Seven-year-old attention spans were not all that great.
The costume was easily solved. A quick visit to the local rental costume shop and Bob walked away with a Captain Hook (of Peter Pan fame) outfit.
Now for the reading. A light bulb moment, and he began frantically scribbling on a notepad.
The morning of the pirate party duly arrived and Bob carefully donned his Captain Hook outfit, complete with long, curly black wig and artificial iron prong.
As he drove through suburban streets to his destination, people looked first in amazement followed by hearty laughter at his somewhat unusual appearance.
The party kids were running enthusiastically around the front yard as he pulled up – but stopped in wonderment as he climbed from his car.
Slipping straight into his pirate role, Bob used his best raspy tones.
“Avast there, me hearties. Belay the rolling pin. Hoist the mainsail, ye lazy swabs.”
Terrified, the children headed en masse for the front door.
“It’s ok, kids, I’m your party entertainment,” Bob called after them in a normal voice.
The parents of the birthday boy greeted him with wide grins.
“You sure have put the fear of God into them,” they laughed.
“Wait till they hear my story,” Bob replied.
Love your take on Treasure Island. Very
Clever 😂😂
A very long time since I read it!