Part Four

Camera: ON

“Captains log. Sea Date Four Zero Zero. The gorgeous wench Grace Helbig and I are on our way to a real life pirate ship.”

Grace interrupts, “Try saying ‘I was born on a pirate ship,’ like ten times really fast.”

“No,” I look back into the camera. “As I was saying, the gorgeous wench Grace and I are headed to a duelling good time onboard a real life pirate ship.”

“Why am I the wench? Seems a little unfair.”

“What do you want to be?”

“Duh, a pirate.”

“Fine. First mate Grace and I are on our way to—”

“Captain Helbig.”

I roll my eyes. “Uh uh, you’re not the Captain.”

“Listen,” she says. “I challenge you to a duel, onboard, whoever wins gets to be Captain.”

“Done,” I say. “You heard her, guys. Prepare for defeat, wench!”

Camera: OFF

Lining up at the bay to get onboard the pirate ship conjures of memories of my childhood when I used to think being a pirate would be the best thing ever. Funny how time changes things and now I think being with Grace would be the best thing ever.

The boat looks like it came straight from a movie where Hook and Pan battled for dominance. We’re ushered onto a large plank of wood, elevated as an entry to board the ship. Men and women dressed like pirates are everywhere. Standing on the bow, hanging out at the stern, at the entranceway, hanging from the wooden poles that host the ships mast. Everywhere.

Any trace of Grace’s motion sickness has completely vanished and she looks ready to have a good time, armed with her camera. “This is so cool!”

“It’s like Halloween gone horribly right.”

One of the pirates speaks in a hoarse, gruff voice. “Ahoy! Welcome aboard. Go that way and brace yerselves.” His arms sweeps to the side, directing us to wooden benches lined up like church pews. As Grace walks our directed route, the pirate shouts after her, “mind yer step me beauty.”

“Can you imagine that’s your job? I mean, getting to play pirate all day long with people from all over the world? That’d be so fun.”

“True,” I say, “until you run into a total jerk, you know the guy on vacation who just hates his entire life and is determined to spew his negative vibes all over everyone.” 

Bearded wonder is a few feet from us, but he looks over. “We don’t tolerate that nonsense on this ship,” he says, “everyone smiles here or ye walk the plank.”

Grace and I both beam, full on toothy grins and the pirate winks. “You’ll be first mates in no time with the right attitude.”

“Looks like Captain will be eternally out of your reach, Grace.”

She sticks her tongue out just as another brute is walking by armed with a large oval tray of drinks. He hands one to me and then steps back to analyze Grace, who reels her tongue back into her mouth and clamps it shut like a venus fly trap.

This guy is in full on character giving Grace the stink eye.

“Can I have a drink?” she asks.

“Aye,” he says. “Ya need to keep your tongue in yer mouth to drink it.”

Grace salutes.

He offers her a drink and moves down the line, grumbling something about a sassy lass.

People continue to board the ship and once it appears to be at maximum capacity, music I recognize from a movie blasts through the speakers as we leave the dock. At the same time, a freakishly tall man sporting baggy pants, high leather boots, a scarf wrapped expertly around his head, wielding a sword stands on one of the raised decks.

“Avast, vacationers! Welcome to Neptune’s Cannon. If yer lucky, you’ll leave. Those of you not so lucky, well ya better prepare yourselves to walk the plank!”

“Holy crap!” Grace says, “they don’t mess around. That’s the second walk the plank reference in less than five minutes.”

“First things first,” our ‘Captain’ says, “Everyone here looks like they’re having a great time in Mexico. Drinking, relaxing.”

The crowd cheers and claps.

“Aye,” he says solemnly. “Everyone stand up.”

We stand. Grace is taking it all in. I feel like she’s conflicted about filming the damned thing or being a fully active participant. When she drops her camera in her bag, she’s decided.

“We’re going to get ya good and thirsty,” he continues. “Anyone here know what a jumping jack is?”

“Anyone here know what a stupid question is?” Some guy shouts from the group.

The Captain immediately holds his sword out and proclaims, “I’ve crushed skulls like yours with me fingertips.”

“This guy is hilarious,” I muse.

“As I was saying,” he says, “We are going to do some jolly rodger jumping jacks, so finish yer brew!”

We both down our drinks and begin to follow instructions like good first mates would.

Everyone on the ship is jumping up and down and up and down. Grace is giggling and looks over at me. “Wanna take your shirt off, Chester? I’ll take a picture and post it online.”

“It was one time,” I tell her in between my jumping jacks, “and trust me, after all the comments I got about chicken legs instead of chiseled abs, that’s all it’ll ever be. Once.”

“Their loss,” she says, shrugging.

We continue this ridiculousness for a good ten minutes. There is a man two people away from me sweating profusely and looking strained. Not one of the pirates appears to be a medic and I’m sure the guy should just sit down. But credit where credit is due—he completes the full work out.

By the time we are done that part, everyone is breathing heavy and once we are told to, we collapse down on the benches. The drink guy is back in no time. I take two.

“Aye. Now that you’re good and awake, I can’t help but notice there are some proud, proud beauties on Neptune’s Cannon today. Ya can shiver me timbers any day.”

The pirates cheer gruffly in response. I roll my eyes.

“So we need some lady volunteers,” he says. “To play a game.”

Grace’s hand darts skyward and she waves it frantically.

“We need ladies here with their blokes.”

I wait for Grace to retreat her arm but she doesn’t.

“With yer bloke,” I say.

“You can be my bloke,” she says.

I’m not going to protest.

The Captain points to her. “You lass. Yer bloke with ya?”

Grace grabs my hand and holds it up alongside hers. “He’s right here.”

The girl from the bus squeals and shouts, “I knew it! Grester!”

They select two more women and bring them to stand next to the Captain. Another pirate stands beside them, stumbling around with a green bottle to his lips.

“Okay,” the Captain says, “first things first. What’s your name lass?” He extends his microphone to Grace.

“Grace,” she says.

“Aye.”

He moves to the second woman and asks her the same question. “Lena.”

“Aye.”

He doesn’t even ask the third girl as she leans forward. “Melanie.”

“Grace. Lena. Melanie.” He repeats. “Now, I’m going to ask you again, but this time, ya must answer like a pirate. Arrr! Melanie! Like that, ya see?”

He holds the microphone to Melanie. “What’s yer name, lass?”

Melanie blushes enough that I can see it from my seat. “Arrr!” she says, hardly above a whisper, “Melanie.”

The Captain holds the mic to Lena. “And yers?”

“Arrr!” she says, “Lena.”

I wait for it because I know Grace’s pirate voice is going to blow the other two out of the water. She’s completely comfortable with herself and with being rowdy and wild. She squares her shoulders and lunges, pretending to hold a sword. “Arrr! Grace!”

Grace’s reply rouses the crowd, who promptly deliver woots and shout words of encouragement. I whistle rather than clap because I still have a drink in each hand.

“Now, the next part of our contest is where yer mates come into play.”

I down the drink in my right hand, followed by the one in my left.

“Bella, show me beauties how it’s done.”

One of the girl pirates steps forward with a balloon in her hands. She hands it to the guy with the bottle who takes it and places it at his chest. Bella proceeds to thrust her chest forward until the balloon pops.

“You’ll be timed,” the Captain says, “so no dilly dallying. Grace, what’s yer bloke’s name?”

“Chester.”

“Come on up here, Chester!”

I walk up the rickety wooden stairs and take my place beside Grace. The girl from the bus starts yelling “Grester! Grester! Grester!”

The rest of the guests join her until we have an entire ship rooting for us.

“Balloon,” Captain orders.

A female pirate hands him a small, purple balloon that he passes directly to me. I hold it to my chest until Grace takes her position in front of me.

“Ya win and ya get yer booty. Ya lose and your honey will walk the plank.”

Grace spins around surprised. “He’ll get what now?”

“A booty, beauty. A treasure.”

Grace bites down on her lower lip to keep from laughing.

She looks at me, and I can tell she’s having the time of her life.

“I have zero desire to plummet into the ocean, don’t lose this Grace.”

“I got this.”

I hope so.

“Aye!” the Captain shouts, holding out his stopwatch. He hits the timer. “Go!”

Grace starts to apply pressure to the balloon with the front of her body. It squeaks, it squeezes, but it does not burst. She begins pumping her torso back and forth, as if she’s trying to deliver a body check. The balloon strains but still won’t burst.

“A little help here, Chester.”

I do the same thing and am awarded with a mental visual of how absurd this must look. I hope the Grester fan is getting this documented.

The balloon remains in tact.

“Use yer booty, wench,” I say, giving Grace a wink.

She full on gives it her best to no avail.

“Oh my God!” She keeps thrusting her body and I burst out into a fit of laughter because she’s chosen those words to use while making that action with her body.

The crowd is roaring with laughter. Grace is legitimately working up a sweat.

“Any tips?” she asks the Captain.

“Aye,” he says. “Abort mission!”

“She won’t give up,” I say as she continues to slam herself against me, “she’s a tenacious one.” I figure we will be here forever and there was never any rules specifically outlining my intervention so I get an idea. “Grace,” I say softly. “Stand still.”

She stops her jump-lunges long enough to hear what I have to say.

“Put your arms around me.”

She does. I in turn, envelope her in mine, then I squeeze us together as if it’s the last time on earth I will ever see her. Her frame is so slight, I worry I’m going to break her. “Okay?”

“I’m okay,” she replies.

I squeeze harder and finally the distinct pop echoes between us.

Grace immediately lets go and throws her arms in the air in victory.

“Time,” the Captain says.

Shy Melanie is up next with her husband, Will. They pop the balloon after a few bear hugs, because Will watched us and used my own move against me. When Lena and her boyfriend Kyle are up, I pray that they take longer than us because I’m still not sure walking the plank is a joke. A few of the pirates have done it already.

Lena, being the curviest of the females is able to pop the balloon in a single body check and is immediately crowned the winner of the booty, which is a Neptune’s Cannon t-shirt and a foam sword. She wears it proudly while I fret about my fate.

After the excitement of the contest dies down and I start to feel safe, Captain looks at the crowd. “Avast! Grace and Chester had the slowest time. What do ye say? Should Chester walk the plank?”

I shake my head back and forth. No. No I should not.

“Plank!” the crowd shouts.

Grace scowls.

“I really don’t wanna—”

“To the plank with ya,” the Captain orders.

Shit.

The plank threats are real.

I suck in a breath and look at Grace who is wringing her hands nervously. “I’m sorry, Chester!”

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” I tell her as I follow the Captain to the large wooden plank jutting from the side of the boat.

As we walk, I ask quietly. “You seriously make people walk the plank?” I can’t believe they’re going to send me into the ocean below.

“Aye,” he whispers, “but don’t worry, mate. The water is warm and my first mate will be waiting for ye. Jacob’s ladder is right next to the plank.”

“What the hell is Jaco—”

Before I can finish, he nudges me in the back. To the cheering crowd I take my spot on the plank. I feel like I’m on death row and on my way to unavoidable doom.

I walk to the edge and look down. Then look up. For someone who isn’t afraid of heights, it’s pretty high. In that moment I make a decision. If I’m going down, I’m going down my way. I back up, hope someone has their camera on and make a run for it. In true Chester fashion I raise my knees to my chest and cannonball off the edge without thinking about it.

The water is far warmer than I’d expected and true to the Captain’s word, there is a man on the edge of a rope ladder going up the side of the boat. His hand is extended to me, I grab it and I climb it without difficulty although I can’t help but wonder what would happen if an out of shape guy lost the balloon war and met the same fate if it would be so easy.

When my head pops up and over the side of the boat, the crowd cheers—many of them holding up their glasses toward me in salute.

Grace is the lone female still standing at the front and when I get my two feet on the deck of the boat, the Captain turns to her. “Yer man just walked the plank for ya. The least you can do is reward him with a kiss.”

Grester girl squeals again. The crowd cheers louder.

I’d walk the plank a hundred, no, a thousand times, if it means I get to kiss her.

Grace hesitates but only for a moment before she crooks her finger at me and motions for me to join her.

She doesn’t need to say anything. I climb those stairs faster than I launched myself off that plank.

Water is dripping from my drenched clothing, running down the sides of my face and making my shoes squeak but none of that matters.

As I approach, Grace gives me her secret smile, one that I only get a rare glimpse of every now and then. Today it’s for me. My smile. And it’s better than any treasure awarded by the pirates.

I don’t speak because I don’t want to ruin anything about this moment.

I walk up to her with confidence I don’t really feel and frame her face in my hands. I dare her with my eyes to stop me but she doesn’t.

When my mouth touches hers, I part her lips with my tongue, half expecting some kind of resistance but to my surprise she opens her mouth to let me in. She tilts her head slightly to the left, awarding me with easier access to explore. She tastes like pineapples and spiced rum. I deepen the kiss. I kiss her as if I’ve spent my entire life waiting to do this.

The crowd goes mental, a startling reminder that we are not alone.

I reluctantly, so reluctantly, pull away, unwilling to share such an intimate moment with Grace in the company of strangers. It’s not how I thought our first kiss would be but the way it happened is almost better than I’d imagined.

Grace’s eyes are closed but they flutter open and she gives an astonished blink.

Are you feeling what I am right now? Is your stomach doing backflips? Are there chills down your spine? I want to ask her all of these things, but I don’t. I stare down at her and brace myself for her reaction.

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