“Captain, are you sure you want to send a landing party already? We haven’t even scouted out the size of this island, and barely the area.” McKidd struggled to keep up with Jenkins, who hastily ran about the ship, checking on preparations for the landing party.
“Of course.” He grabbed an Enfield off the shelf, looking at it, then pointing it directly at McKidd, who took a step back, gulped, then froze as the muzzle came up to in front of his nose. “This is an incredible opportunity,” he explained, looking at his first mate through one eye, down the length of the barrel. “I can’t imagine we’ll learn much more by floating around out here. The sooner we figure out what’s going on, the sooner we can get off of this assignment.” He set the rifle down, then continued on around his ship.
“Well, I, sir, am not one to disagree with you when you’ve made up your mind. You’ve proven more than stubborn in the past. I assume you’ll want me to assume command of the ship?”
“I’d hope for no one less competent. In a weeks time, I’ll meet you here again. In the meantime, perhaps you’ll take the opportunity to scout the island, as you wished.” Jenkins, apparently satisfied, lept into the row boat below, almost ready with a complement of 5 other seamen.
“Will do. Good hunting, Captain.”
(Author’s Note: Sorry I didn’t post sooner. My internet’s been busted for the past week. Regardless, I’m back, though with another cheesy entry. I swear, it’ll go somewhere in the next entry, which will hopefully be tomorrow, barring unusual circumstance. No band = more free time.)