Whet To Drowned

“La-a-and, ho!” came a cry from the crow’s nest.
Capt. Dalley eyed Francis, “And that be the land ye’d just a-spied fer us?”
“Aye, sir,” Francis said coolly with mock respect. Respect was not a word among pirates, but that you didn’t attempt to slit their throat or swipe their vittles.
Stroking his scarred chin the Capt. mused, “In these here waters t’ain’t much by way o’ islands, least not islands a god-fearin’ man should go a-visitin’.”
“Aye, sir,” was all Francis answered, letting the captain ask in his own time, to whet the curiosity without drowning the credulity.
“Cap’n,” cut in Blinks, the first mate, or in common parlance, the guy what kept the other crew from killing the captain, “This’un ain’t the cut o’ man to trust. Ain’t dirty ‘nuff.” And he spat for emphasis, as was the custom among sea-faring folk. But as has been proven time and time again, on land and sea, greed can easily conquer caution.
“And the Stone Lady, she be on said island?” Capt. Dalley asked, taken by dream like so many before.

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