I knew that my life hadn’t even begun as I trekked down those rocky slopes. Maybe it felt like being born all over again, but something about the night air just gave me a feeling that I’d not experienced in several years. Armed with nothing more than a white shirt, a ponytail and a pair of fancy pants, I strolled along the coast line in search of my dream.
My Parents had looked upon me with contempt when they first learned of my dream too. Go and be a Doctor. Go and sell breath mints. Hell, they didn’t even mind the idea of me becoming involved in the voodoo arts. Anything but that, Guybrush.
I knew though, that as I pushed through those termite infested old doors that this was where I needed to be. Grog drenched the floor beneath my feet. Some guy with a glass eye sat on the table nearest me and stared intently at me. Even the man swinging from the light above my head filled my heart with joy.
The Scumm bar was the place to be. I wanted to become a pirate.
“So you want to be a pirate?” said the important threesome in unison.
They all looked like fully fledged pirates. I had a check list imprinted into my head that helped me decide whether or not someone was capable of plundering and looting. Scruffy beard. Check. Hat. Check. Lack of moisturiser. Check. These guys were definitely the real deal.
“Yeah. So, how would I go about becoming one then? Fill in an application form? I’ve got a great reference from one of the Inn keepers on Scabb Island… somewhere round here,” muttered Guybrush as he dug into his pocket and shuffled around.
Unknown to me was the fact that you couldn’t just become a pirate by wearing a hat or by waving a sword around like a feather duster. No. Pirates were a thing of beauty. It took a great amount of time and effort to gain the skills that the pirate brotherhood required of you before you could lay claim to the title of a ‘pirate.’ You can be the bravest of the brave. You can smack up the sword master. You can uncover ancient gold. However, you’ll never be a true pirate unless you’ve conquered…
“The three trials!”
“The three trials!”
“The three trials!”
Did they really have to repeat everything? The joke grew stale after the first minute of conversation. These men were pirates but… comedians? I think not.
The chef darted back and forth, pushing past my shoulder at least once every two minutes as I stood there, waiting for the pirates to say something worth listening to. It wasn’t forthcoming straight away though. I had to draw the answers out of them and it was a painstakingly long operation. I didn’t particularly mind though.
I was on my way to becoming a pirate.
Tales of buried treasure, thievery and swashbuckling encounters were quickly unravelled as the mysteries of the three trials were once again spoken of. They certainly seemed challenging enough and I knew that they represented everything I’d ever wanted from life.
“Can I have a grog, please?” I said, trying to catch the chef’s attention.
At first, he didn’t even acknowledge my voice. He was far too busy running around collecting plates and empty tankers to deal with potential customers. The place was a mess. Everything was broken. Everything was dirty. That’s the way we liked it though. Pirates aren’t supposed to be clean.
“I said I’d like a grog, please,” I announced for the second time.
Still nothing. I was thirsty. If this guy was going to be a bastard about it… then why shouldn’t I do the same?
“Captain LeLogan won’t be too pleased if I go back to the ship and tell him that people have been ignoring me.”
The entire place came to a standstill. Each table looked across in my direction with a cowardly innocence. Silence once again annexed the bar as the cook turned around, faced me and gave me the once over…
“Did you say Captain LeLogan?”
I could feel the saliva roasting on his tongue. His sweat glands began to work their magic. My words had visibly shaken him, but that was exactly how I wanted it. Every set of eyes in the bar now focused on me.
Tension.
“No. I said, I’d like a grog,” I replied.
Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever done in my life.
Several minutes later and I found myself lying in a heap outside of the bar. The pirates hadn’t taken kindly to my mocking of their fear of the dreaded ghost pirate. Even the merest hint of his name was enough to send most of the inhabitants of the Caribbean into a panic-stricken state.
Melee Island was perhaps the worst place for it though. They were far too close to Monkey Island for comfort. Rumours floated around suggesting that LeLogan had taken a liking to the Governor of Melee Island too. All in all, it was a dark time for pirates on the Island. They were too scared to take to the seas. No boats had sailed from Melee in a long time.
It was probably justified too.
“So maybe that wasn’t the wisest way of getting their attention,” I chuckled whilst picking myself up off the dusty floor.
Little did I know that this would only prove to be the beginning of my adventures on the Island. Like most adventure stories too, there's always a girl involved. We’ve already spoken of her actually. She was the Governor of Melee Island at the time…
