Reaching the end, Guybrush knew they
didn't have all of the ingredients on the list - for instance, there weren't
any pressed human skulls around (although there might be if the crew didn't
give up its recalcitrant ways). He would have to improvise...
In a matter of minutes, having scavenged the ship for any useful substitutes,
Guybrush threw the following ingredients into the cauldron: one cinnamon
stick (Guybrush loved cinnamon); four breath mints; the Jolly Roger from
the crow's nest (a fine looking flag - it shivered his timbers just looking
at it); ink from the inkwell in the Captain's room; two pints of fine red
wine he found in a trunk in the storage room (Guybrush was no enologist,
but judging from the deep red colour it was a very fine wine); a
rubber chicken with a pulley in the middle (it was about time he got rid
of that worthless artifact); three ounces of gunpowder, also from the lower
hold; a box of Cap'n Crunch cereal (he could tell this was going to taste
good); and for good measure, a feather pen, his 'I beat the Sword Master'
T-shirt, the recipe, the minutes, and the key to the cabinet. Then he gave
the sweltering mixture a stir with a long steel ladle. It was going an
off green colour. Green steam drifted up, and it smelt awful.
The soup (whatever it was) was now bubbling
furiously as it heated up. Eldritch light glowed from within.
Then, as the chain reaction suddenly
caught, there was a massive green explosion. Guybrush was driven back as
a mushroom cloud of gas was blown over the rim. He was now breathing the
stuff, and he felt suddenly dizzy. Maybe I should have opened a couple
of windows, thought Guybrush as he drifted slowly toward the floor.
Overcome by the fumes and stench,
Guybrush quickly lost consciousness. Moments later the voodoo spell kicked
in, turning the ship to an unknown heading and off on its mysterious voyage.
Their destination - Monkey Island™!
Days pass...
Waking up is hard enough to do every
morning, but when you've lain in a deep coma for a week, it is positively
painful. Things aren't helped much if you're lying face down on a hard
wooden floor, and the room you're in stinks like a crowded abattoir on
a bad summer day. Guybrush could have vouched for this.
He shook his head, propped himself up,
and got to his feet. He felt awful - in particular, his head felt like
a medicine ball. The fact that the sun was shining through the window on
another clear morning did little to mitigate affairs.
Guybrush walked gingerly over to the
cauldron and peered in - it was full of brown sludgy crap. He hoped he
didn't have to eat it.
But at that moment he glanced out the
window, and saw something that returned all his forgotten energy with a
jolt. A flash of green.
Guybrush dashed up the stairs and out onto the main deck. The crew were
here, still enjoying the Caribbean weather, but Guybrush ignored them.
There, on the port bow, was the land mass of mystery and excitement - Monkey
Island™!
"Holy Monkey Bladders!" exclaimed
Guybrush, unable to control himself. He stared in wonder at the low jungle,
the snow white sandy beaches, and the ridge of purple mountains in the
interior. He looked back at his mutinous crew - surely they'd give him
some help now.
"Hey look," said Guybrush,
pointing. The crew looked port. "We've made it to Monkey Island™!"
The crew looked at Monkey Island™ for
a while. They turned back to Guybrush. "Let us know when you've found
the Governor," said Meathook, "we've got an extra chair she can
use." The Sword Master opened her book again.
Somehow, it looked like the crew weren't
going to be much help. It looked like Guybrush was going to have to reach
Monkey Island™ alone. Guybrush thought that maybe he should have taken
at least one of Stan's extras - a lifeboat. How could he get to shore now?
On the port side of the ship, there
was a large black cannon pointing directly at Monkey Island™.
Guybrush, looking at it, had a sudden,
very sharp feeling of deja vu. Yes, there was a way he could
get ashore. He made his way down to the hold.
In the hold, while the leaks were getting worse, there was at least
some dry space left on the floorboards. Here were the kegs - Guybrush took
a large scoop of gunpowder from them. Coiled around one of the kegs was
a length of rope - or fuse. Guybrush took it, but instead of returning
to the deck, made a detour to the kitchen.
The object he had in mind was standing
on the bench - a small pot about the same size as his head. After all,
a helmet just might be handy. Guybrush left quickly, glad to get out of
the noxious fumes, and was soon standing in the clear air on deck.
He looked at the cannon again, and took
a deep breath. It was all in readiness.
Guybrush tipped the gunpowder down the
cannon nozzle. It rolled down and settled at the base. Next he affixed
the rope to the butt end of the cannon, creating a fuse which would give
him a goodly time to get into the cannon. He took the pot, and squashed
it firmly on his head. Dirty water cascaded down, dousing his shirt.
Maybe he should have checked the pot
first. Guybrush took out a match, regarded it critically in the morning
light, and struck it on the cannon. The flame caught. Bending, Guybrush
lit the fuse then quickly crossed to the mouth of the cannon. Guybrush
grasped it with both hands and swung out into space.
The fuse was running at a gallop.
Guybrush struggled with his grip for
a while, nearly losing it, then swung his legs up, ready to somersault
into the cannon.
The loudest roar that had ever existed
in the history of creation suddenly switched on, as the cannon exploded
and Guybrush was carried out over the sea on the shockwave. He arced into
space. The pot fell into the ocean, and still Guybrush flew onward. More
inventory went missing - some of Stan's brochures, other pieces of paper,
the ship's log - all fluttered to sea. Guybrush outlasted them all, still
propelled forward. Monkey Island™ was growing close.
It wasn't going to be the easy landing
he'd hoped, for even as Guybrush finally began to lose altitude, he was
carried over the outgoing tide. The yellow beach sand was rushing toward
him.
Guybrush met it head on.
Part 2