Return to Treasure Island

Ahoy Me Hearties!

These last months have been longer than a day’s walk on a beach with a peg leg. Me and me first matey have been drydocked in home port with only our lad and lassie aboard. Aye, instead of lootin’ and plunderin’ or stagin’ a mutiny, we now spend long days purveyin’ hard tack and grog and playin’ pin-the-tale on Polly. Arrr, poor Polly…

For the very reason o’ boredom and desperation, this pirate author has been gettin’ the urge to do some of her own story tellin’ and treasure huntin’ again. But that ain’t easy with one patch over me eye and another covering me rum hole and sniffer. I look like your grandmother’s quilt with a parrot sitting on it. But never mind me pitiful state of affairs. It’s high time for you landlubbers to gather yer fortitude and get back to searchin’ for me numbered doubloon that will yield the jewels.

And good news! The tide is up, and the north winds are quite favorable, even for walkin’ a fathom apace.

But I couldn’t well send you off to the high seas searchin’ for something that ain’t thar. So, today, after a late breakfast of salt cod and sea biscuits, me and me matey journeyed afar—but not too afar—to look in on the coffer. After goin’ right around, we had ourselves some ups and downs, two of each, if you must know. But I’m warnin’ you, the last down gives no quarter, and I nearly slid on me sorry behind into that many-trunked maple, all lovely and a-bud, in sight o’ the briny, and not a fathom and a half from treasure. Comforted in knowin’ the booty was secure, we returned to our sloop in time for a hearty midday meal.

So, heave ho, ye Trove-seekin’ scallywags, and get to solvin’ and huntin’ before some other scurvy-riddled, bilge-sucking buccaneer beats ya to it!