Friday Flash - New Year's Dance

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A full moon hung low in a clear night sky. The Dead Calm drifted through calm waters, the sea lapping at the hull of the ship. The crew gathered on the deck, their raucous songs of celebration filling the air. Captain Scarlight tottered between them, refilling their mugs with rum.

"Happy New Year, lads! Let's toast our health, and hope next year is a good 'un!" he cried.

The crew cheered, raising their mugs to the skies. Dark droplets of rum spattered the deck. Methuselah fluttered across the ship to perch on the wheel. The telepathic parrot nodded his agreement with the Captain's sentiment.

"Gaaarrrr, ye shouldn't toast on New Year! Not during a full moon," said Flintlock Francis. The grizzled bosun lounged on the rigging, a mug of rum in his hand.

"Why not?" asked Captain Scarlight.

"Gaarrr, yer but a young pup, ye won't know....The Legend," said Flintlock Francis.

"What legend?" asked the Captain.

"THE legend," replied Flintlock Francis.

I do believe he is employing stalling tactics to increase the tension associated with what is no doubt a popular slice of local folklore. In the name of peace, I believe it would be best to allow him to tell the tale.

Captain Scarlight looked at Methuselah and nodded in agreement. Flintlock Francis flicked his bloodshot eyes between the Captain and the parrot.

"Do ye want to hear the legend or not?"

"Aye, we do, we do!" cried the crew.

"It's a legend few know, but ye should! It's said that if ye toast to health under a full moon on the eve of New Year, then ye can expect a visit from the Reaper 'imself," said Flintlock Francis. He looked at each of the crew in turn, fixing them with an ominous look.

"Is that it?" asked the Captain.

Flintlock Francis nodded, taking a swig of rum.

"That's rubbish! I never had ye pegged as being the sort to believe in fairytales!" cried the Captain.

He spun round to face the crew. His boot slid across the spilt rum, depositing the Captain on his back. His head connected with the deck with a dull thud.

* * *

Pain throbbed in the back of the Captain's skull. He opened his eyes, and stars exploded across his vision. He expected to see the crew huddled around him, but he gazed up at the sky. Silence drifted across the deck.

"Bloody hell, what happened?" he moaned.

"I believe that would be called 'taking a fall'. You slipped on a patch of rum."

Captain Scarlight wriggled up onto his elbows. He expected to see Methuselah perched somewhere, the familiar disapproving look on his avian face. Instead, he saw a young woman standing near the ship's wheel. Raven hair tumbled around her shoulders, and her eyes formed dark pools in the stark white of her face. She smiled, her purple lips parting to reveal black gums and grey teeth.

"Who are you?" exclaimed the Captain.

"I am someone who has not had a dance these forty years together. Would you do me the honours?" asked the woman. Her cold voice rasped with decay.

"I don't think I'm up to dancing," replied the Captain.

"Of course you are. You need only try," said the woman.

Captain Scarlight rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself onto his knees. His jaw dropped open at the sudden lack of pain in his head. Somewhere in front of him, fabric caught on wood and ripped. He looked up to find the woman standing over him. A slender white arm snaked out of her midnight cloak. The woman held out her hand. The Captain shuddered at her icy touch.

"Music, Maestro!" cried the woman.

A violin creaked into life, singing its eerie melody to the full moon. The woman pulled the Captain to his feet and they set off around the deck. Captain Scarlight knew he didn't know how to dance, yet his feet possessed a mind of their own as he led the woman in the dance.

They spun around the deck, carried along on the haunting violin music. Captain Scarlight tried to avoid eye contact with the woman. Confusion and fear competed for his attention.

"Why do you fear my gaze, mortal captain?" asked the woman. The laughter of flies buzzed at the edges of her voice.

"I'm a bit bewildered, if I'm honest," said the Captain.

Before he could stop himself, the Captain looked the woman square in the face. Vertigo seized him as he gazed into the velvet depths of her black eyes. Stars glittered beyond his gaze, clouding his vision. The music grew faint as the world closed in around him.

* * *

"Cap'n? Cap'n, are yer awake?"

Captain Scarlight opened his eyes. A spike of pain drove itself into the back of his skull. He groaned, suppressing a wave of nausea.

That was quite a fall you took, Captain. Are you alright?

Methuselah sat on the Captain's chest, peering into his face.

“I’ve got the headache from hell,” replied the Captain.

You were humming.

“I was?”

Yes. A doleful yet infectious melody.

“I could have sworn I was dancing,” said the Captain. He sat up, raising tentative fingers to his head. He winced when he found a bump.

Dancing? With a woman?

“Well it wasn’t with you, Thusie,” replied the Captain.

Captain Scarlight struggled to sit up. Methuselah fluttered across the deck. He watched the Captain stumble away to his cabin.

“The Cap’n was dancin’, alright,” said Flintlock Francis.

He leaned in close to Methuselah. He gestured to the deck with his mug, slopping rum across the wood. Methuselah followed Flintlock’s gaze.

A patch of midnight glistened below the ship’s wheel.

* * *

If you enjoyed this tale, you can find more of Captain Scarlight and Methuselah's adventures on the Parrots & Piracy section of my website. The Macabre Mademoiselle first made her debut in my Christmas story for Jodi Cleghorn's Deck the Halls project, Fast Away The Old Year Passes.

Friday Flash - Flintlock Roulette

Tweet “Garrrh, poker’s for wenches!” said Captain Scarlight.

He knocked back the last dregs of his grog, slamming the tankard on the table.

“You do keep winnin’, Cap’n,” replied First Mate Swein.

“That I do.”

“I heard talk of a game of roulette in these parts,” said Swein.

“Roulette is for wenches, too!”

“It makes a change from poker.”

“True. Garrh, alright then, where’s this roulette game?” asked the Captain.

“A bar near here. The Rotten Pegleg,” replied Swein.

“Then we go to the Rotten Pegleg!”

* * *

The Rotten Pegleg stood at the end of the quay. Candlelight fought its way through the grime caked on the windows, throwing misshapen shadows across the wharf. A peg leg infested with woodworm hung from a pole outside.

A toothless hag sat at the piano just inside the door. Her gnarled fingers laboured through a mournful dirge in the quiet bar. Four men loitered near a round table in the middle of the room. A fat man with a mop of hair the colour of dishwater stood behind the bar.

“Barkeep! I heard there was a game of roulette going on,” said Captain Scarlight.

“That there is. Yer in luck, me friend. We needed another player ‘fore we could get going,” said one of the men. He grinned, displaying a mouth of black teeth.

“Have ye ever played flintlock roulette?” asked another man. Twisted scars snaked up his face and under his bandanna, encrusted with sweat and filth.

“Can’t say I have, I’m a poker man, myself,” replied the Captain.

“I don’t like the sound of flintlock roulette,” said Swein.

“Ah, ye brought a wench with ye!” roared the black-toothed man. Swein blushed.

“This is my first mate,” said the Captain. “But I must have a drink before we play.”

The Captain walked over to the group. His gaze fell on a rusty cage in the shadows at the end of the bar. A beautiful blue parrot sat hunched on a perch, too large for the size of the cage. It looked at him with doleful eyes.

“What a beautiful bird!” said the Captain.

“He’s supposed to be my main attraction. I got ‘im from a passing gypsy. Little liar told me ‘e was telepathic, but I ain’t ‘eard anythin’ to prove it,” said the barkeeper.

“All the same, he’s gorgeous. What’s his name?” asked the Captain.

He stuck his finger through the bars and stroked the bird’s head. The parrot leaned nearer, enjoying the attention.

“Dunno, never bothered to give ‘im one. ‘E might end up in me dinner if ‘e doesn’t do something useful soon,” said the barkeeper. He handed Captain Scarlight a drink.

“I’ll take him,” said the Captain.

“Ah ‘e ain’t for sale,” said the barkeeper. “But if ye win yer game, I’ll reconsider.”

“Are ye ready, strange cap’n?” asked the pirate in the bandanna.

“That I am! So how do we play this?” asked the Captain.

“We put the deeds to our ships in the middle of the table. We get blindfolded, and walk around the table. The hag tells us when to stop. Ye sit down, pick up the flintlock in front of ye, and fire,” said the pirate.

“Only one of ‘em has shot in it. If ye get the shot, ye keep the ship of the man ye shot,” said the black-toothed pirate.

“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” said Captain Scarlight.

“Are ye yeller?” asked a third pirate.

“No, I just like my head where it is, thank you,” said the Captain.

The pirate in the bandanna pulled out a pistol. He aimed it at the Captain’s chest.

“Ye join in, or I shoot yer now.”

“I guess I’ll just have to play then, won’t I?” said the Captain. He turned to the barkeeper. “But I get the bird if I win.”

The barkeeper nodded. Swein moved to the door.

The pirates put on their blindfolds. They walked around the table, arms outstretched. The hag shouted, “Sit!” The pirates reached for the nearest seat. Captain Scarlight fell into a chair by the bar.

The pirates fumbled around the table. Their hands found the flintlocks, and five hands picked up five guns. Five thumbs cocked five hammers.

I would suggest you duck.

Captain Scarlight started at the voice in his head. He looked around, before remembering the blindfold.

My name is Methuselah, and I am the bird on the bar. Please trust me.

The voice made the Captain’s ears itch. He shook his head.

“Ready....aim....fire!” said the hag.

DUCK!

Captain Scarlight ducked. The deafening crack of a flintlock filled the room, followed by the thump of a lead shot into wood. The Captain tore off his blindfold to see a smoking gun pointed straight at him.

Scarlight scrambled out of his seat. The pirate holding the smoking gun pulled off his blindfold. His expression morphed from triumph into anger when he saw the hole in the wall.

“Cheat!” he screamed.

“Captain!” cried Swein.

Captain Scarlight grabbed the bird cage and ran across the room. The pirate tracked the captain across the bar, pulling the trigger until he remembered flintlocks held a single shot. The other pirates pulled off their blindfolds to see the commotion.

Swein yanked open the door and the Captain darted into the cold night air. Swein ran after him as the four pirates fell out of their seats in the hurry to pursue Scarlight and the stolen bird.

The Dead Calm lay further up the quay. Scarlight and Swein sprinted up the gangplank. The crew hauled the board onto the deck. The pursuing pirates missed their footing and plunged into the sea. Scarlight’s crew jeered at them as they cursed the Captain from the dark water.

“What’s this then, Cap’n?” asked Billy the Bosun.

Scarlight stood up and opened the cage. The parrot hopped onto his forearm.

“This is the newest member of our crew, er...”

Methuselah. My name is Methuselah.

* * *

If you'd like to read more tales of Captain Scarlight and Methuselah, click here!

Friday Flash - The Dead Calm

Tweet Today's Fiction Friday prompt from the Write Anything website was;

Use this lyric from Shore Leave  to flavour your story: “Hong Kong drizzle on Cuban heels”

I decided to use it to tell the story of how Captain Scarlight got his ship. For more stories about Captain Scarlight, click here.

* * *

The rain pattered on the roof of the makeshift bar. Four men sat around a table. They clutched cards, and glared at each other. Nobody in the bar dared speak; all eyes were fixed on the card game in the corner.

“Whaddya got?” asked one man. Captain Jacob Gnarley. Thick blond hair curled down his back. Scars criss-crossed his face and arms. He kept stroking his goatee beard, and tapping the table. Sam Scarlight suspected it was his ‘lucky’ nervous tic.

“Two pair,” replied another man. Barnabas Welmsley. A bald man who hadn’t so much fallen out of the ugly tree, as chosen to live in an orchard of them.

“You, whaddya got?” asked Captain Gnarley.

He stared at Scarlight. The other man refused to look at him, his sullen face expressing his annoyance at losing so much. Scarlight recognised Sullen-Face as Swein, Captain Gnarley’s First Mate.

“Um…er…um…it looks like I have a Royal Flush. That’s good, isn’t it?” asked Scarlight.

He laid the cards out on the pitted wooden table. Welmsley inspected them, and nodded his agreement. Scarlight did indeed have a Royal Flush. Captain Gnarley roared, and slammed his fist on the table.

“How can ye, a young pup, keep beating me so, eh?”

“Um…er…I suppose you might call it beginner’s luck?”

“Another game!”

Captain Gnarley pounded the table again to emphasise his point. Scarlight hesitated before gathering the money from the centre. Even after 'losing' every third hand, he’d more than tripled the amount he brought with him. It didn’t surprise him. Being the best poker player in London grew boring after a while, and now he hussled card games in Hong Kong. His tender age sucked in the old, grizzly players.

“Captain, you haven’t got much left,” said Swein.

“Nonsense! I am winning! Aren’t I winning?”

The mugs of beer jumped on the table when he slammed his fist down again. Scarlight affected an expression of fear at the captain’s temper, but also respect for his reputation.

It’s just a pity his poker isn’t as good as his sailing, he thought.

Swein dealt the cards. Scarlight paid no attention to his. He chose to watch the reaction of the others to their own cards. None of them understood the concept of bluffing. Swein grimaced at his cards, and Welmsley looked hopeful. The Captain looked confused.

The players swapped cards with those in the central pile. Swein almost twisted his face inside out in an effort to gain extra mileage from his grimace. Scarlight guessed his hands was worse. Welmsley’s hope turned to annoyance, while the Captain remained baffled. Scarlight looked down at his cards. His face fell.

“Are ye all in?” asked the Captain.

“No. I fold,” said Swein.

“Oh what’s the point? I fold as well,” said Welmsley.

He threw his cards across the table. Before they landed face down, Scarlight saw a three of clubs, a nine of diamonds and a six of hearts.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, sonny,” said the Captain. ”What do ye put in?”

“Another forty, I think,” said Scarlight. “Gosh, I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

He glanced from his cards to the Captain, and back to his cards. He pushed his money into the centre of the table.

“I see yer forty, and raise ye sixty,” said the Captain.

“Captain, that’s all you have!” said Swein.

“Argh, quiet, Swein. Look at his face, his hand must be terrible,” said the Captain.

“I don’t know if it’s bad or not...tell you what, I need to go soon so I’ll see your sixty, and raise you the rest of my money,” said Scarlight.

“Fine. My ship is more than equal to yer winnin’s, boy.”

“You can’t bet the Dead Calm!” exclaimed Swein.

“I can, and I am. Do ye doubt me?”

“No, Captain.”

“Show my yer hand, boy,” said the Captain. “I’ll wager ye can’t beat my Three of a Kind!”

He laid out his hand. A two of clubs, a three of hearts and three Knaves fanned out on the table.

“Looks like I’ll be going home in the Dead Calm after all!”

“Um…er….no you won’t,” said Scarlight.

He laid out his Full House. The Captain’s face fell. Swein fought a smirk, and Welmsley spluttered in amazement.

“My Full House beats your Three of a Kind, so I’ll be taking the Dead Calm, thank you very much.”

Scarlight stood up. Swein stood up with him.

“Swein! Ye would leave me here, and go with this young pup?”

“Aye, Jacob, I will. I am the First Mate, I go where the ship goes,” replied Swein. A smile hovered around his thin lips.

“So sorry about this, Gnarley, but all’s fair in love and gambling,” said Scarlight.

He headed towards the door, ignoring Gnarley’s pleas for another hand. Swein held open the door for him.

“Where are we going, Captain Scarlight?”

“The Caribbean!”

Parrots and Piracy

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Friday marked the fourth flash adventure of Captain Scarlight and his telepathic parrot, Methuselah. A couple of people have asked me if I intend to turn their tales into a serial, and in a word, the answer is no.

I already have my serial project in the form of my (occasionally "too-big-for-me") project, Tales from Vertigo City. Each of the nine tales is delivered in serial format, with each instalment appearing on a weekly basis. I try to write it in such a way that each instalment both answers earlier questions, while asking new ones, and I try to write it in a way that readers will come back the following week to find out what happens. A serial follows the 'story arc' format, with regular readers rewarded with references to earlier episodes, while new episodes move the plot along. It would be difficult to drop into the serial at any point and know what was going on, because it's intended to be read from the first episode.

I've never intended to write a Scarlight/Methuselah serial. That's not to say there won't be more adventures - no, there will be. The difference occurs in that I want their adventures to be more self-contained. I'm hoping that you could read any of their stories and still enjoy it, without having to read the others. Obviously, I hope that you enjoy the tale enough to want to read the others, but the idea is still that of the adventure "in isolation". There's not much that anyone needs to know about the pair other than the fact that the Captain likes to "drink and be merry" and Methuselah is telepathic, so in theory, the project should work. To illustrate, think of The X Files. My serial is like their 'story arc' episodes, as Mulder runs around investigating the alien abduction conspiracy theories, and they make little sense without viewing the episodes earlier in the story arc. The Scarlight/Methuselah flashes are more like their 'monster of the week' episodes, such as the one where Mulder and Scully spend Christmas Eve in a haunted house. These episodes can be viewed on their own merit.

However, for those people who have taken a liking to the characters, I can confirm that I am planning an e-book for their adventures! Parrots and Piracy will bundle together the seven flashes I plan to publish on my blog, along with four exclusive adventures. But THIS is where you come in. I'd love it for people to send me writing prompts for these four adventures. Leave your prompt in the comments section and I will choose four at random. Those lucky four contributors will win a signed Scarlight/Methuselah sketch! I'll also send you a free PDF of the e-book, because I'm nice like that.

If you'd like to check out the links to the previous adventures, I've made a page for the pair on my site. Have fun exploring here!

Spoken Sunday - Not For Sale

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This is Not for Sale, which was also my Friday Flash for this week, which you can read here! Apologies for the dreadful Jamaican accent...

Friday Flash - Not For Sale

Tweet Yes, Captain Scarlight and Methuselah have decided to take over my blog again. This particular flash was inspired by this week's writing prompt by Eric J. Krause - "A strange website promises something (good fortune? Unending power? Never-ending riches?)". No, the Captain doesn't have Internet access, but it was still an inspirational prompt...

* * *

"Have you seen this, Thusie?" Captain Scarlight leaned back in his chair, holding open the newspaper. His telepathic parrot sat on his shoulder, reading the advertisement.

Voodoo? You are not being serious, Captain?

Methuselah's words echoed around the Captain's mind. He shook his head; a conversation with the parrot left him feeling like his ears were full of water after a swim.

"Why not? She's offering to pay well, all she wants is supplies," said the Captain.

Methuselah leaned in to read the advert again.

MEN OF LOW MORAL FIBRE REQUIRED. THE FAMOUS MADAME LA STRANGE IS RUNNING LOW ON VOODOO SUPPLIES. CAN YOU HELP? MINIMUM PAYMENT 400 PIECES O' EIGHT. CONTACT THE MADAME CARE OF GOVERNOR TREBUS, THORNY ISLAND.

400 pieces of eight is a lot of money, that is true. However, there must be some catch.

"Oh catch schmatch," replied the Captain.

Why is a voodoo woman working with the Governor?

"Who knows? Who cares? Money is money, and things have been tight lately," said Captain Scarlight.

Very well, Captain. As always, you know best.

"Damn right I do. Now, to the Governor!"

* * *

Governor Trebus lived in a small shack a mile inland from Port Thorne. Dirty straw covered the roof, and old newspapers blocked holes in the thin walls. A scrawny dog guarded the front door.

I have a bad feeling about this, Captain.

"Oh shush, Thusie. It'll be fine."

Captain Scarlight stepped over the dog. It whined in protest. Methuselah gazed down at the furry bag of bones. A pang of pity plucked his heart strings.

The captain knocked on the door. It rattled in its frame, one hinge threatening to come away altogether.

Are you sure this is the right place?

"Oh do stop questioning me, Thusie. This is the Governor's mansion, alright. I have an indefatigable sense of direction." He wagged a finger at the bird.

The door creaked open. A woman with black dreadlocks peered out. Mould encrusted the eye patch over her left eye. Her right eye burned gold in a face the colour of burnt coffee. Rings hung from the bony fingers wrapped around the edge of the door.

"Yes?"

"Good morning, Madam. I am Captain Scarlight, and this is my parrot, Methuselah. I am looking for either Governor Trebus or Madame La Strange," said the Captain.

"You 'ave found dem both," replied the woman.

"Excuse me?"

"I am Madame La Strange, and I am Governor Trebus," said the woman.

I told you this was a bad idea.

"I 'eard dat!" said the Governor. She glared at Methuselah.

"Forgive my bird. He is telepathic," said the Captain.

I think she has potentially worked that out for herself.

"Yes, I 'ave. Dey are very rare, Captain. 'E could be very valuable," said the Governor. She eyed Methuselah with interest. The parrot sidled along the Captain's shoulder. He tried to burrow into the Captain's mass of tangled red hair.

"To me, he is priceless," replied the Captain. He pulled himself up to his full six feet and three inches. "Now, we have come here about the advert you placed in the newspaper."

"Ah yes. I need supplies but I cannot leave de island," said the Governor.

"Because you are governor as well as Voodoo Woman?" asked the Captain.

"No. House arrest."

"I see. Well what supplies would you need, in exchange for the 400 pieces o' eight?"

"Forget de supplies. I will buy de bird for 800."

"He's not for sale."

"1000."

"He's not for sale."

"2000."

You offer 2000 pieces o' eight for me, yet you cannot fix up your abode?

"6000 pieces o' eight. Dat is my final offer."

"No deal. Methuselah is not for sale, and I don't believe we can do business for your supplies. Forgive us for wasting your time," said the Captain.

He turned to leave. The Governor lunged for Methuselah. Her fingertips brushed his tail feathers before the Captain darted out of her reach. She tripped and fell at his feet, scrabbling at his boots.

The Captain bent down and grabbed a handful of dreadlocks. He lifted her up by the hair. She screamed, clawing at his hand. She struggled to get her feet back on the ground. The dog looked up, but ignored her plight.

"I have already told you, Methuselah is not for sale. If you ever lay one finger on him again, then Governor or not, I will have your guts as strings for my piano," said the Captain. He glared at the Governor. Hatred and fear mixed in her golden eye.

The Captain noticed a tree to his right. Methuselah sat on the lowest branch to bring it within reach. The Captain tied the Governor's dreadlocks around the gnarled wood. Methuselah flew back to the Captain's shoulder, leaving the Governor dangling by her hair.

"Good day to you, Governor," said the Captain.

The pair walked back toward Port Thorne. Captain Scarlight rubbed Methuselah's head.

"Don't worry, lad. I'd never sell you," he said.

Neither of them noticed the white fingerprints on Methuselah's tail.

Friday Flash - Captain Karaoke

Tweet Here's my attempt for this week's Fiction Friday challenge on the Write Anything blog, also submitted to the Friday Flash collection. Prompt #169 was;

The note taped to the door said: See you at Wild Notes Karaoke Bar.

"Well I don't know about you, Thusie, but I've had a damn good night," said Captain Scarlight. He swayed along the quay towards their ship.

I do wish you wouldn't keep referring to me as Thusie. My name is Methuselah, said the parrot on his shoulder. Being telepathic, Methuselah didn't need to speak out loud. The captain screwed up his face as the parrot's words echoed around his brain.

"Don't talk to me in my head like that, you know it confuses me."

It is the only way we may maintain a conversation.

"Pah, I don't want to talk to you anyway," said the captain. "All you ever do is tell me off for drinking and being merry."

That's because all you ever do is drink and be merry.

"That is not true, not at all!"

The captain stumbled up the plank to the ship. He tripped onto the deck, driving his knee into the wooden boards. He yelped in pain.

Indeed, Captain, you are as sober as a judge.

The captain threw an evil look at Methuselah. He hauled himself to his feet and tottered up the steps to the next deck. A piece of paper fluttered against the door to his quarters.

"What's this?" he said. He pulled the paper from its pin, and squinted to read the awkward handwriting. The note simply said: See you at Wild Notes Karaoke Bar.

"Oh-ho! A karaoke bar!" Captain Scarlight grinned.

What on earth is a karaoke bar?

"It's just a pub with a house band. They play songs you know, and you get up and sing them," replied the captain.

I do hope you are not planning on attending.

"I have to! Look, I've been invited." The captain waved the note at Methuselah.

The captain spun on his heel and wobbled back down the deck. Methuselah flew past him. He let an air current carry him to a bollard on the quay. A karaoke bar sounded like his idea of hell, but he felt obliged to accompany the captain. Lord knows what might occur if Captain Scarlight went unchaperoned.

"Come on, Thusie, it'll be fun!"

You have already spent four hours in the local watering hole with your men. Why must you go elsewhere?

"Pah!" replied the captain.

Methuselah thought it best not to ask how the captain knew the location of the karaoke bar. It made life easier not to question, or even understand, his bizarre ways.

Wild Notes Karaoke Bar squatted at the end of an alley filled with trash. Ancient handbills papered its stone walls between narrow windows. The captain yanked open the door and sound poured out into the alley. Raucous laughter and bad music filled the air. The captain plunged into the sea of bodies.

A four-piece band stood on the small stage. They fought their way through an old sea shanty. What they lacked in ability, they made up for in boundless enthusiasm. One musician used a stick and three strands of rope attached to a box as a double bass, and he plucked the strings with gusto. A man lurched and rolled in front of them. His tuneless caterwauling hurt Methuselah's ears. He fluttered across the bar to land on the captain's shoulder.

"Ah, my kind of place!" said Captain Scarlight. He caught the barkeeper's attention and ordered a drink.
A young man sidled up to the captain. A gold ring dangled from his left ear, and a scar twisted up his cheek into his hair. Methuselah recognised him from the ship. The parrot looked past him and saw several of the younger crew members further down the bar. They gazed at the captain in awe.

"You got our note then?" said the pirate.

"Ah-ha! Jonno! I did indeed! Very good choice of venue, my boy," said the captain. He thumped Jonno on the shoulder and laughed. Jonno grinned, but rubbed his shoulder when the captain looked away.

"Rex met a wench at the last pub and she told us about this place. We thought you'd like it," said Jonno.

"And I do indeed. Have you boys had a go yet?" The captain gestured to the stage. The drunk man sat in a heap in front of the stage, his place taken by a swarthy man in red. He crooned an old classic, drowned out by the band.

"No, we're too nervous. But we wondered if you would?"

"Of course I will! Where do I sign up?"

"No need, sir. Our current customer was the last to volunteer. If you want to go next, just wait at the bottom of the stage," said the barkeeper.

"Splendid!" roared the captain. He pushed his way through the crowd to the stage. The boys from the ship loitered by the bar. Methuselah perched on a beer tap.

The crooner left the stage, shaking his head. The band helped Captain Scarlight up onto the stage. They conferred for several moments before the captain turned to the crowd. A hush fell over the bar.

"My good gentlemen, and lovely wenches!" said the captain. The crowd cheered.

Please, Captain, do not do this.

The captain glared at Methuselah across the bar. He held up his hand for silence. Methuselah stole a glance at the crew. They stood transfixed. The captain dropped his hand and the band broke into tuneless song. The crowd whooped and cheered as the captain shouted his way through the first verse. Methuselah shook his head in disbelief when the captain reached the chorus.

"Did you ever know that you're my heeeeee-rooooooo? And everything I would like to beeeeeeeeee? See, I can fly higher than an eeeeeeeeagle, and you are the wind beneath my wiiiiiiiiiings!"

* * * 

Captain Scarlight and Methuselah have appeared before in two previous Friday Flash outings! Check out Pieces O' Eight and Polly Wants A Cracker.

Polly Wants A Cracker!

Tweet For this week's Friday Flash, I've returned to Captain Scarlight and Methuselah, his telepathic parrot. They made their first debut last month, in Pieces O' Eight.

* * *

The parrot sailed into the room, riding the breeze from the open window. Sunlight played across the scattered empty bottles, turning the floor into a stained glass carpet. The remains of a steak sandwich sat on a plate on the table. A trail of crumbs led from the sandwich to the groaning figure on the bed.

Ah. Captain. You are awake.

The parrot’s voice echoed inside the captain’s head. He roared from the depths of his blanket nest.

“Thusie, go away.” The captain threw a sock at the parrot. It missed, landing on the floor in a puddle of beer.

I have told you before, Captain. My name is Methuselah.

“Your name is… well it’s whatever I want it to be, dammit!” Captain Scarlight sat up. He swayed, clutching his head.

The men await your orders, Captain.

“I can’t give any orders, you stupid bird! I’m dying!” Captain Scarlight groaned to prove his point.

I am afraid that you are not dying. You are merely hungover. I believe I predicted this very outcome last night before you embarked upon your drinking session.

“Do you enjoy being such a smart arse?” The captain glared at Methuselah with bloodshot eyes.

I am no smartarse, I am simply reminding you of the events of yesterday. Now get up and get ready, we have a visitor on board.

“A visitor? On my ship? And no one asked me?”

I believe the governor asked you last night, somewhere after the third bottle of rum. You seemed to think it a jolly good notion then.

“Well who is it?”

Katherine Weaver, daughter of the governor. He wants us to show her around the ship. By us, of course, I mean you.

“Oh damn him to hell. Is she here already?”

Yes. She awaits your presence most eagerly. It would appear that your reputation as a swordsmith has preceded you.

“I am pretty good with a blade, I suppose,” said the captain. He hauled himself to his feet using a bedpost. He swayed as though the berthed ship were caught in a rolling sea.

Indeed. I shall return to your men and inform them that you shall be with us shortly.

Methuselah flew out of the room in a flash of electric blue and scarlet.

* * *

The governor’s daughter stood on the small half-deck outside Captain Scarlight’s cabin. She wore her red hair in ringlets, and a dusting of freckles covered her nose. A maid stood behind her with a fan, while another held a parasol over her. Methuselah didn’t like to say so, but he considered her long dress to be impractical attire for a ship. He wondered at the wisdom of her father, allowing his daughter to meet with pirates. Visions of a brigand’s ball danced before his avian eyes.

The cabin door opened and Captain Scarlight made his entrance. He’d managed to find clean trousers, though a burgundy waistcoat hid the mustard stain on his white shirt. The shadow cast by the brim of his immense hat hid his bloodshot eyes. He adjusted his belt, and cleared his throat.

“M’lady, this is Captain Scarlight. Captain, this is Katherine Weaver, daughter of the governor,” said First Mate Swein. He bowed to the captain and to Katherine.

“My lady Katherine, what a good honour it is to meet you,” said the captain. He removed his hat with a flourish, bowing deeply. Katherine giggled, and held out her hand. The captain kissed it gently. Methuselah was impressed; he rarely made time for such displays of chivalry, especially with a screaming hangover.

“Please, captain, call me Kitty. All my friends do,” replied Katherine. She fixed the captain with an intense stare, and suddenly it made sense. Girls often threw themselves at Captain Scarlight, hoping for a whirlwind romance or a life at sea. The captain never seemed to notice.

“Then I shall do so likewise,” said the captain.

“I hear you have a telepathic parrot. Is this the bird?” asked Kitty. She pointed at Methuselah.

“He is indeed. His name is Methuselah. I rescued him from an evil pirate several years ago. Yes, he'd be a goner if it weren't for me,” said the captain. Methuselah rolled his eyes; that’s not how he remembered it.

“Will he talk to me?” asked Kitty. She reached out a hand to pet Methuselah. He allowed her to gently stroke his feathers.

“Say something to Kitty, Methuselah, there’s a good chap,” said Captain Scarlight.


“Who’s a pretty boy then? Polly wants a cracker! Arrrrrgh! Pieces o’ eight!” screeched Methuselah.

Kitty looked at the Captain, her green eyes wide like saucers.

“I thought you said he was telepathic?”

“He is. Come on, Thusie, say hello to Kitty the way you talk to me,” said Captain Scarlight. He prodded Methuselah. The parrot glared at the captain, puffing his chest up in indignation. He let out a single caw in reply.

“I do not think much to your bird, Captain,” said Kitty. She turned, and allowed herself to be led back to the main deck by First Mate Swein.

“Oh, you do delight in making me look stupid, don’t you?” The captain glowered at Methuselah.

I do indeed, Captain. Where else could I find such amusement, other than that which I make myself?

Captain Scarlight slunk back to his cabin, the sound of parrot laughter rattling around inside his brain.