X Marks the Spot [1]

The sloop ship navigated through the azure waters, finally gracing the shores of the nameless island harboring their coveted treasure. A seemingly uninhabited haven, it welcomed them with a sandy shore bordered by towering trees of diverse foliage, creating a lush green landscape.

As the ship dropped anchor, its prow rested 15 meters from the shore, a strategic distance to prevent grounding and facilitate a swift departure.

The crew, comprising Jack and Mary, descended into the crystal-clear waters, with Mary hauling along barrels of spirits and their recent plunder.

Upon reaching the shore, they diligently secured lines to the land, anticipating the capricious whims of bad weather. Anchors alone might suffice in fair conditions, but in the face of tempestuous winds, additional precautions were imperative.

With lines secured, Jack retrieved the treasure map, tracing the red X that marked the elusive spot at the island's heart. Before embarking on the treasure hunt, Jack proposed a brief interlude.

"Oi, lass, let's wet our whistles a bit before the adventure," he suggested with a grin.

Mary fervently agreed, and on the sandy shore, they settled down. From a barrel, she poured rum into two wooden cups, raising a toast under the clear blue sky. The warm rays of the sun painted a picturesque backdrop as they enjoyed the tranquil scenery.

After a dozen cups, Jack, for the first time in ages, felt the gentle haze of inebriation. The sun dipped low on the horizon, prompting a wistful comment from Jack.

"Argh, if only we had explored first and quaffed later," he lamented.

Mary, pragmatic as ever, suggested, "Captain, we can embark on the treasure hunt tomorrow."

In a sudden burst of determination, Jack stood up, wooden cup in hand, swaying slightly. "No, we go now!" he declared.

As they toasted once more and downed their rum, the wooden cups found their resting place on the sandy shore.

Jack, fueled by liquid tendencies, approached Mary closely, a mere twenty centimeters from her.

Looking down at her, Jack, in his inebriated state, expressed an inexplicable desire. Mary met his gaze, her confusion palpable.

Abruptly, Jack's finger found its place on her cheek, and he leaned in with an air of anticipation before abruptly snapping back, retreating from her.

Perplexed, Mary wondered, What was that all about?

Meanwhile, Jack, on the other side of the emotional spectrum, admonished himself, What are ye doing, Jack? Bad luck to have a woman aboard, even worse if ye let things get complicated.

He pivoted, fixing his gaze on her and uttered, "Pay me no mind, just a test for me eye."

Mary, further bemused by the revelation of a blue eye she hadn't witnessed, nodded, and they continued their traverse.

With a deft touch, Jack fashioned a new torch from his leather pouch, clasping it in his left hand while cradling his machete-like blade in the other.

The glow of the torch cast an ethereal aura, revealing hanging vines, cobwebs, and the mysterious symphony of crickets and nocturnal creatures.

Suddenly, Jack rose to his full height, directing Mary, "Check the map and navigation."

Nodding again, she consulted the map and compass, determining their current position.

Amidst their nocturnal journey, a series of crackling and popping sounds seized Jack's attention from his left, just above. A tree branch, caught ablaze by his makeshift torch, became the center of an impromptu spectacle.

Swiftly dropping his machete, Jack tapped on the burning branch, diverting Mary's focus toward him.

As the fire extinguished, he recovered his blade, glanced at Mary, and mused, "Must've been the wind, not me."

Her smile echoed agreement as she relayed, "Captain, the course now leads to the left."

Their footsteps crinkled leaves and rustled plants as they navigated the lush surroundings. After a pause, Mary halted, whispering, "Captain, there's a serpent's hiss ahead. I dread snakes."

He turned, asserting, "Lass, snakes might be the least of our worries here."

Implored, "Please, kill it," Mary nodded.

Approaching the hissing source with caution, Jack spotted a figure—clad in tribal garments woven from leaves, his eyes and smile illuminated in the darkness.

Reacting swiftly, Jack retreated, causing Mary to tumble, asking, "What happened?" as she regained her footing.

In haste, Jack instructed, "Fetch me gun from me belt holster, and do it fast."

She complied, and Jack re-approached the spot, only to find the enigmatic figure vanished.

"No snakes, lass, but a tribe lurks here," he disclosed.

Fear replaced by relief, Mary smiled, remarking, "Thank the seas for that."

Before he could respond, gleaming eyes and smiles emerged in the darkness—a congregation of tribesmen.

"Ru-"

From above, a tribesman descended upon him, another landing on Mary, plunging them into an unforeseen encounter.

...

The following day, bathed in the morning sun on the mysterious island:

Jack and Mary awoke to find themselves amidst the tribal village. Wooden huts, crafted with a blend of wood, palm leaves, and vines, surrounded them.

The villagers, adorned in attire woven from leaves and plants, sat outside their huts, engaged in the preparation of various spices using mortar and pestle.

These huts, nestled in the heart of the island, embodied a harmonious coexistence with the lush surroundings, camouflaging the tribe's existence beneath the towering trees.

The villagers' faces and arms bore vibrant marks of green and red, a testament to their unique connection with nature.

Bound by vines once again, Jack and Mary exchanged glances. Jack, with his characteristic flair, remarked, "Oi, we be the unluckiest luckiest pirates."

Mary, contemplating using her powers to escape, hesitated as Jack suggested, "Hold yer horses, lass. Let's linger a while, savvy? I'm curious to see what these landlubbers are schemin'."

Frowning, Mary chided, "Ye mad-man," and refrained from using her powers.

A young tribesman, his bald head adorned with lines of green and red, approached and alerted the others. Speaking in an unknown tongue, he gathered the attention of the tribe. Jack, with a mischievous grin, uttered unfamiliar sounds, mimicking their language.

The tribesmen, astonished, began jumping and shouting. Mary, bewildered, said, "Captain, did ye mimic their language? Ye'll lead us to die."

Jack, with a wry smile, admitted, "Aye, Mary, by the depths, I've gained a knack for their tongue."

Doubtful, Mary probed, "Ain't yer talent all about spotting treasure?"

Jack chuckled, "Seems I've got an extra trick up me sleeve, lass."

As the tribe parted to make way for their leader, an elderly man with a frail appearance, Jack continued to play the enigmatic captive.

The tribal leader approached Jack, inquiring, "Who are you?" in their native tongue, understood only by Jack.

With a chuckle, Jack replied, "I'm God. Nice to meet ya heartie."