Under the evening sun, the camp suddenly came alive with the creak of aged wood against the grainy sand and the raucous shouts and laughter. The kitchen team had returned with a dozen wooden barrels. Lucky Roux popped one of the lids open, releasing a tantalizing scent of rich whiskey into the air.
"Here y'are. Who deserves the first taste, if not the Captain?"
Shank sniffed his cup, then raised it and poured some into his mouth. A satisfied grin spread across his features. "It's good!"
His men cheered and descended upon the barrels unrestrainedly. Ann cringed; the whole spectacle made her feel like she was in the middle of a frat boy party filled with middle-aged men. Drinks flowed freely. Chunks of meat were being roasted, the fat sizzling and dripping into the fire. The smell of sausages, corn, and warm bread drifted in the air. She swallowed, staring longingly at the platters of food.
A few men greeted her, but most left her alone. It could have something to do with the fact that, after the second barrel emptied, most of them were too drunk to even string a proper sentence together. They laughed when she asked them to contact the police and pretended not to know what a handphone was! Ann nudged a man with her foot. He was so wasted he did not even budge. Time to slip away. She almost shrieked when Captain Shank plopped right next to her.
"Can't swallow the soup?" he said in a drawl.
She squirmed. The soup tasted horrible. It slid hot and bitter down her throat, but whatever Lucky Roux put inside it certainly made her feel much better. "Umm, I—I'm trying."
Shank snickered and secretly passed her a meat skewer. "I'll get rid of the soup. Don't tell Hongo. Or Lucky Roux. Especially—Lucky Roux," he winked.
"So, Ann, where are you from?"
"Japan."
"Japan. Hmmm. Sounds like a nice place. Where is it?"
Is he kidding? Were they really going to have this conversation right now? Is he still immersed in his pirate character or simply too wasted?
"East. The land of the rising sun."
Shank appeared to consider what she was talking about before taking another swallow from his glass. "Never heard of it, and I've been all over the Grand Line. Which part of it are you from, Paradise or the New World?" he slurred, his breath heavy with alcohol.
She wrinkled her nose. He must be so fucking wasted. There's no point in having this conversation. "Can I borrow your handphone?"
"I've heard you asking all these guys before. What's a handphone?"
Seriously! She gritted her teeth in an effort not to snap at him. "Something you use to call people and tell them how you are."
These men were starting to grate on her. A 'normal' response is to call the police or an ambulance, but these people just carried on with their festivities without a care in the world.
"Oh! You mean Den Den Mushi."
"Yes, that's the thing. A Den Den Mushi." Her heart raced with anticipation as Shank reached inside his pocket.
"Here. Who are you gonna call?"
"This is a snail!" she snapped.
This had to count as animal abuse. It had numbers that could be dialed affixed to its shell. The animal yawned and glided, leaving a slimy trail on her palm. Gross. She hurriedly wiped her palm off, almost dropping the poor creature.
Shank gave her a tipsy smile. "You don't know how to use it, huh?"
Ann didn't know what to say to a drunk who thought an animal could be used as a communication device. Maybe she should ask him again tomorrow when he's sober. If he's sober. She smiled uncomfortably in return.
Shank burped. "Sorry," he said, not looking sorry in the least.
"The stars are beautiful. Nights like this, I start missing my boy even more. Makes me regret making that promise sometimes. He had a big appetite. I wonder if he's eatin' alright?" He made a choking noise before he started to literally cry on her shoulder.
The sun had not yet set, and the captain was a bundle of hot, messy tears. She passed him a towel before his snot dripped all over her shoulder. Shank blew his nose, wiping his snot messily. "Thanks." He hiccuped and patted her head like a small child. "You're a good kid. You even have the same eyes as—Lucy."
Then it was Lucy this, Lucy that. Lucy, the most amazing kid in the entire world. He went on and on about Lucy. Seriously, if he missed this kid so much, why didn't he just bring him along? Dave dragged them along for vacations all the time, not giving a damn whether they wanted to or not.
Unwilling to listen to his drunk sob story, she distracted him with questions. Whether the information could be trusted was extremely doubtful because Captain Shank had this dazed look in his eyes, and it took him longer to answer each question as if his brain were slowly shutting down.
Allegedly, they were currently on an unnamed island in the New World. Wherever that is. For someone who was drunk out of his mind, he was really consistent with his story. It was one of the crew's favorite hangout spots, often used for parties. They would leave tomorrow and head to Fwoyo Island. No, Shank didn't know where Misool was. No, they hadn't stumbled upon any of Ann's friends. Don't worry, because Shank had sent a few men to search for them. Police? Shank just laughed.
"Ann," Beck called out as he approached with a bundle of clothing and a sturdy pair of boots in his hands. "Here, these should help you freshen up a bit. There's a stream nearby where you can clean yourself up. Lucky Roux will accompany you."