“Indeed you wouldn’t, good sir!” said James, standing up and snapping the lapels of his coat to punctuate his words. “An old salt such as yourself has more sense than that, because I am no swabbie, sir!” James raised his voice and stood to meet their gaze, but the pirates laughed even harder.

He could feel Smee pulling at his coat sleeve, trying to get him to sit down again, but James was feeling brave, and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of finding Never Land. He had read everything there was to know about pirating, and he wasn’t going to let these salty old men intimidate him. He had been dreaming of this his entire life. This was his chance; he wasn’t going to waste it. He needed to show these men what he was made of, and do what he did best.

Talk.

“I’ll have you know I am a master of cartography, and I have extensive and intimate knowledge of ship anatomy and weaponry!” said James, not backing down even though he was now face-to-face with the ginger-haired pirate, who had come over to James’s table. Upon closer inspection James could see the man’s face was still healing from the massive wound, which was festering, and smelled foul when he leaned in close to talk to James. It was as if his face were two separate entities trying to merge, and James found himself repulsed when the salty old man spoke to him.

“Do you know what this fool is talking about? He’s talking nonsense,” said the pirate, raising his voice so the others could hear him even though he spoke his words directly into James’s face.

But James didn’t let the unseemly man intimidate him. He stood proudly and continued speaking.

“I beg to differ. I am a graduate of Balliol College, and I am not talking nonsense, sir, and I assure you I know exactly what I’m about,” said James, standing his ground and refusing to back away from the ginger pirate’s foul breath.

“Balliol College, you say? Well, that makes all the difference in the world! What every ship needs is a headmaster,” said another pirate with a long brown beard that looked to have the texture of dried, mossy twigs. The other pirates laughed as they got up and made their way to James’s table. Smee looked nervous, but James kept making his case.

“I have read every book there is on the subject of pirates and their ships, and I assure you, I would be an asset to any crew,” said James, holding his head high and bursting with pride, making all the pirates laugh even harder.