“Yeah, Master James, what are you playing at?” asked one of the pirates at the large, round table. This didn’t look like the sort of man James wanted to offend, so he didn’t respond. He was starting to regret having come there at all.

“So, the young master decided he wanted to play at pirates?” said another pirate, laughing and slapping one of his mates on the back, making him spill his drink as he was taking a sip.

“Looks like he’s mistaken this for a fancy dress party!” another man at the table joined in.

James was utterly abased. This wasn’t how he expected his adventure to start out, or the impression he wanted to make; it had all gone terribly wrong, and he didn’t know how to fix it. Luckily the croaky old woman arrived with a tray of refreshments just in time. She set the tray on the table in front of the pirates and said, “Courtesy of Master James.” All the pirates raised their tankards, smashing them into each other.

“To the dread pirate Master James!” they jeered.

James could feel his face getting hot. These men were laughing at him, but he supposed it was better than being thrown out before his adventure had even started.

“Cheers to you, gentlemen!” he said, raising his glass, then he set it down roughly on the table, directing a glare at his butler. “Sit down, Mr. Smee, you’ve brought too much ill attention to me already,” he said, rolling his eyes. “What are you doing here?” He flashed a glance at the big table to see if the pirates were still paying him mind.

Mr. Smee scoffed. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here, sir? Your mother is beside herself with grief and worry. It’s as if she’s been transported in time to when you were a boy again, lost for those six days.” James could see the man truly was worried about him, but he doubted his parents cared for anything more than the scandal it would bring to the family if it ever got out that he had gone off to become a pirate.

“And I suppose they’ve sent you to find me? What am I thinking, of course they did. They wouldn’t dare bring notoriety on their great house. What would their friends think if they knew?” James laughed ruefully. Smee didn’t answer; he just gave James a look that was all too familiar, one that he had been giving James since he was a child. A mixture of pity and concern.

“What did Papa say when he read the letter?” James asked with a bit of the devil in his eye. “No, wait, let me guess, something along the lines of ‘A pirate? What sort of poppycock is this?’ Am I right?” James laughed heartily, but Smee wasn’t amused.