Robert Fletcher loved being a pirate. Well, he wasn't a pirate exactly. He worked on a pirate ship, the Golden Magpie, but only as the cook. And it wasn't exactly enjoyable…
But ever since he was a young boy, all Robert wanted to do, was to sail the high seas. And if the only job he could get was the cook, then maybe he could work his way up someday.
Only it didn't exactly work out.
Robert was alone aside from his pet dog, Scraps, in the kitchen, making dinner. They had been at sea for four and a half weeks and the food supplies were going slightly off. But the pirates didn't care! Most of them were half-drunk anyway! As long as there was something there for them to cram into their mouths, they were satisfied.
If only Robert hadn't assumed that the black liquid in the bottle on the top shelf was vinegar and poured it in generously.
After the disastrous cooking had killed three people, Robert knew something was wrong. The meal had been poisoned! And Captain Skipper was furious.
"FLETCHER!" he fumed. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"
"I-I'm sorry Captain," Robert stammered, terrified of the mad captain. "It was an accident, it won't happen again."
He drew out a long sword and pressed it against Robert's neck.
"I ought to kill you," he hissed threateningly.
Robert could barely squawk a reply, he was so terrified.
But thankfully, he had an unlikely rescue.
"That may not be such a good idea, Captain," said Curtis Thompson, the first mate. "It may make us look bad to kill a cook in cold blood."
"He' just poisoned half our ship!" Captain Skipper exploded.
"May I suggest something?"
Curtis began to whisper into Captain Skipper's ear. The captain's eyes lit up, although his expression stayed surely.
He took the sword away from Robert's neck and instead pointed at him with it.
"I sentence you, Robert Fletcher, to be marooned on Traitor's Island."
Robert almost wished he was dead.
Traitor's Island was an island with no food, water or shade where traitors were abandoned and left to die or go mad. Whichever came first.
"This is it," Captain Skipper said, as the Golden Magpie grinded to a halt on the shore of an island. "Prepare to meet your fate, Fletcher."
Robert said nothing.
The captain turned to address the three cabin boys. "You see, boys," he said. "This is what happens when bad people need to be taught a lesson."
"Is this what happened to Pa?" the youngest of the Cabin Boys asked.
"Oh, no," the captain replied. "That was an accident. What we're doing here isn't the slightest bit unintentional."
He drew out his sword, and pointed it at Robert.
"You going to go quietly, boy?"
Robert did. He had no choice. He didn't want his throat to get cut. Scraps, however, was less obedient.
Scraps, the mad, little terrier, tried to bite the captain on the leg, but Captain Skipper simply kicked him in the nose, and he went flying into a heap on the sand. Scraps lay still for a while, then suddenly jumped up, ran to the shore, dived into the sea, and swam madly to nowhere, until he was out of sight.
Robert sighed; I'm putting all of my faith in a dog? he thought to himself.
But he knew he had no choice.
Sorry if it's a bit rough around the edges, but it's the first chapter of my first story, so the pressure's on. Please let me know if you like it, and I will update soon! I edited the last bit, so now it's less rubbish! Yay!