Scalliwag stole her heart and hid it in a sack of gold. Then buried it with a spade on an island dark and cold. The moon was just a sliver – a slitted blackened eye. The surf roar made him shiver as a slinky shadow drew nigh.
“I’ll have it back, ye pirate, me heart in yonder bag!” the comely Wench did scream at him and set his sail to flag.
The rogue then spat and spun upon his heel and at the very sight of her, he quickly drew his steel “Tis now me own possession, ye cannot have it back. No matter ye obsession, I’ll fight ye with a thwack.”
The Wench did not falter, nor fall to tearful knees but pulled a blade from halter, “I will not ask ye please!” And on the beach they battled one blade against the other, setting teeth to rattle, no mercy for their lovers.
Scalliwag took a fall and landed on his arse with Wench’s blade at his balls, he knew himself a farce.
Wench traced the mighty cutlass up his beastly chest, ran him through quite quickly and extracted her request. She held his coal black heart, it’s blood like pulsing ink then wrapped it in a net ‘fore Scalliwag could think. And with the spade she found her own dear, buried heart – took it with the gold and bade him with a fart.
Scalliwag tried to chase her to get back all the booty but the night had done erased her and gone with her the looty. “I’ll get ye wenchy woman and recover both gold and hearts!” Scalliwag screamed to heaven and cursed the saucy tart.
He staggered to the seashore and stuck in one big toe and shuddered night’s eerie crazy throe “I be a patient pirate,” he muttered as he swam and cut through frigid waters for he didn’t give a damn.
Yo ho, to see me maties version you can find buried treasure at Christine’s or possibly a rousing song and a bottle of rum at Jess’s.
Anita Rodgers Mystery Writer 