We walked down into the bustling docks, stinking of long dead fish and
seaweed. We walked past the decreped old fishing boats and their
owners, all with rotting wooden lobster pots and old rope nets. The
huge ship was moared in the harbour, its ancient gangplank rested
lightly on the hole filled pier. Mr Cheese, our navigator, stood at
the top polishing his peg leg, while Meet-Hook stood behind working on
yet another wax painting. Otis and Carla ran up the gangplank and
began to load the crates of sugar and cotten from the plantations into
the hold. While I, our captain, Guybrush Threepwood, mighty pirate and
fearless leader walked upto the bridge and ...view middle of the document...
"Oops!" he yelled.
We eventually got out of the port after much crashing and bashing into
other ships and the pier itself. We got going steadily and soon left
the stinking docks and it's old fishermen and the coral reefs
colourful inhabitants well behind.
The sea was carm as we sailed towards Boston in the north of America
but a Tropical storm was soon upon us. The sea around became rough and
the sky above became black and slowly the storm got worse. First the
rain started, quickly becomeing harder and harder. Then the wind came
blowing the boat backwards and forwards tossing the sea around us up
and onto the deck. Then came the thunder and lightning raging a battle
in the air above us and striking hard at the sea below. As we went
further north the storm became steadily calmer and the sea became
quiet again. As we came close to Boston we began to turn east in the
general direction of Bordeaux on the west coast of France.
About half way into the voyage...