From the site he had chosen, the rebel commander

From the site he had chosen, the rebel commander could see sixty kilometres of coastline. The place was Broome on Australia's west coast. Beyond was the shimmer of the Indian Ocean

, and even further in the distance, he thought he could see the faint outline of an island. The rebel commander frowned. There were no islands in this area, according to the map.

He looked again at the map and yes, what he had assumed was an embarrassing stain from the poop deck incident was in fact an island. "Manhattan" he read in spidery script. Where c

ould he get a new map? Not everyone had maps. It might not be replaceable. He felt a tap on his shoulder. "Cap'n," he drawled. "Wee got arsaalves a sitcheeashun."

"Fawk yur sitcheesashun! Wur's my map?!" He stomped his feet on the already sinking ship, making another hole in the wood and causing a blast water to hit his crew mate in the face

. It was Timid Pitt who whimpered & siddled towards Capt. Fisks tender. But Fisk would have none of it grasping Pitt with his claw. "A Captain goes down with his stinkin' ship!"

Then, a whale landed on them all, destroying the ship and killing the captain. Timid Pitt was unharmed, aside from some bruising. He held on to the debris so he wouldn't have to

give into the screams again. Above, the clouds hovered with menace, swollen with grey rain like overripe fruits. Timid Pitt sighed and kicked the dog again.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I marched over to Pitt and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the dog. "Enough!" I shouted. "What is wrong with you?" Pitt looked at me, his eyes

rolling madly. I realised the dog must have bit him, and now Pitt was rabid. "Shame," I said, grabbing the syringe, "I was gonna euthanise you NEXT week." Pitt collapsed, snarling.