I pull open the cover,
a trap door to the deck.
“Weigh the anchor!”
and with a splash the adventure  begins.

”Trim your sails!”
and the curtain ***** behind me.
The bow of Old Salt splits the waves
and I wipe the spray from my glasses.

There’s mutiny aboard the ship.
With cutlasses drawn I hear them charge,
the “pok-pok” of a peg leg
is my dad at the door.

“It’s twelve gone”, he says
and I see them fall to the deck.
In the heat of the action
there’s no time to count the loss!

There’s a shout from the door,
“They’ve scuttled the ship!”
My feet get cold
as the hull fills up.

The water is rising
it dowsers my candle.
The crew is sprawled awkwardly on the still, red-dyed deck,
as the leather bound novel falls from my bed…