Captain Bad Trousers

“Okay Captain Bad Breath. We’ll join your crew.” Ponytail spoke on behalf of them. “But only ‘cos we’re desperate – we left our previous ship under … abnormal circumstance. Otherwise we’d still be at sea. We’re all of us top rate sailors, and used to working a tight ship. So if you don’t deliver on the promise of adventure and most importantly – treasure – soon, then we’ll jump ship as quick as the lick of a cat. Got it?”

“Of course, dear lass. Of course,” assured Bad Trousers quickly. “But they’ll be adventure and treasure aplenty. You mark my words.”

“Right,” she said dubiously. “Introductions then … . This is ‘Princess’ Pearl.” She nodded at the lass sitting opposite feeding peanuts to a green and red parrot. “According to Pearl, she’s the black sheep of some royal family from a country across the Ocean. That makes her a bit precious, but more importantly she’s a sharp eye and a fine look out.”

The ‘Princess’ did have a regal haughtiness to her but that was where her royal resemblance ended. She was dressed in a pirate’s motley garb and her blonde hair was streaked with bright ribbons and braided in pigtails. She glanced at Bad Trousers briefly before pretended to study her multi coloured fingernails. The parrot was a nasty-looking bird, gripping tightly on to a leather patch on her shoulder with one foot, whilst the other rapidly dismantled a peanut from its shell. It had beady eyes which roved about as if they were searching for additional things to bite other than the nut.

“… this is Curious George. He’s the strong silent type. Great with a windlass and towing a line, and particularly handy when it comes to boarding another vessel. Just don’t expect any deep and meaningful conversations.”

George had a cheerful expression featuring a pair of startlingly bright blue eyes. However, the handsome effect was somewhat offset by the numerous viscous-looking scars, and when he grinned at the Captain, it exposed a mouthful of missing teeth. He was big and powerful, and sported tattoos of different sea monsters up his arms and neck. A handy fellow to have on one’s side, mused the Captain.

“And I’m called Poppy. Around these parts I’m known as Peg Leg Poppy on account of this.” She clonked a solid-oak post up onto the table, attached at one end to her left knee.

“Ahhh! Yes  …  the wooden leg,” the Captain hesitated. “You … erm … you don’t find it gets in the way on a sailing ship? I’ve got to warn you, The Thirsty Pig does nay have any ramps or lifts.”

“Don’t worry, Cap,” she reassured. “I’m pretty good at getting around. In fact, anyone to say otherwise ends up getting splinters where they don’t want them just to prove a point. And besides, I find the hook more of a disadvantage than the leg.”

Peg Leg Poppy took her left arm from under the table and displayed a dented and scratched hook where hand should’ve been on the table.

“Oh … a hook as well? Ha ha! Jolly good,” Bad Trousers tried to look pleased. “Anything else missing? Other than the eye, leg, and hand that is.” He grimaced, feeling a little short changed.

Poppy stared balefully with her one good eye without bothering to respond. Her hook scratched a slow, deep mark into the table top.

Bad Trousers back tracked rapidly: “No problem, no problem. Anyhow, I can tell you’re a first rate seaman, and an indomitable character to overcome such disadvantages!”

The hook point bit even deeper into the table.

“I’d leave it there if i were you,” the Princess chimed in without bothering to look directly at the Captain. “She’s pretty handy with that hook, and if you carry on with your annoying drivel I think you’ll find out just how handy.”

She stood up, brushed her hands over her coat and declared: “We’re off. I assume that sorry excuse for a ship moored at the West Dock is yours?” Trousers nodded.

“Then we’ll see you there tomorrow at first light. C’mon you two,” she commanded the others. “We’ve got that job to do before we set sail …”

Poppy looked uncomfortable for a moment, as if she’d prefered Pearl had not made that last comment, but then she nodded once and rose from the table, graceful despite the wooden leg.

After a moment George noticed the others were preparing to leave and lurched upwards, knocking the solid table as if it were made of balsa wood. The remains of the Captain’s squid / chicken / chickpea / spinach broth slopped onto his trousers and he cursed.

“Abalone! You’ve souped me trousers!” But all three were already on their way to the door and showed no interest in the condition of the Captain’s trousers.