"...Haul the sheet in as we ride on the wind that our Forefathers harnessed before us.
Hear the bells ring as the tide rigging sings, it's a son of a gun of a chorus...."
You slowly regain consciousness, aware of an old Jimmy Buffet tune playing on a boombox on the deck. Your hands are tied behind your back lashed to a mast. A tall bare-chested man with leathery skin and a shaved head is singing along with the boombox in an off-key gravelly voice while swabbing the deck with a grey spaghetti mop.
"Arrr! Shut that blasted CD player off Jason, and quit yer yowling! This ain't no Carnival Cruise sing along!" the captain exclaims. "And untie our new deck hand. There's work to be done, an we're far enough out now to where he won't be thinkin' a jumpin' ship to swim for shore."
Jason shuts off the boombox and pulls a knife out from his belt and cuts the ropes from your hands. He leads you towards the rear deck, where you see three men standing over a bench cleaning fish. He hands you a fish scaling knife. "Get to work matey! Ya gotta earn yer keep if ya wanta be fed on this ship!"
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