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THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

Synopsis: Just sit right back, and you'll hear a tale-- of the Quest clan's deeds under a pirate's sail.

"FORTUNE'S WIND", chapter 1

by Eric R. Umali

"Setting Sail"

The crystal blue waters of the Caribbean shimmered in the late morning sun. A good strong wind was blowing, curling the water into small, white-crested waves. From over the horizon came a tall, white shape, and as it moved closer to its destination, the shape took on the powerful lines of a large capital warship. Long of line and sitting low in the water, her hull was painted in gleaming white, silver and blue. Launched just weeks before, the warship was the newest in Her Majesty's colonial fleet. Her name was the H.M.S. *Questor*, and she was the finest ship the Liverpool shipyards could produce.

The top deck was a flurry of activity. Sailors, both volunteer and impressed, scurried across the wooden surface, knowing the ship would soon see action.

"Trim the top'sel!" called her master, in a voice that carried clear up to the top of the mast.

Captain Benton Quest, of Her Majesty's Royal Navy, surveyed his fine new ship. The *Questor* had been built, commissioned, and launched specifically to quell the marauding pirates of these waters. Captain Quest had received his own orders from the Queen herself. Standing on the raised quarterdeck, he stroked the rust red beard on his chin and imagined his vessel in her first battle. She was huge, over two hundred feet stem to stern, and nearly a hundred twenty cannons lay ready in her gun decks. He could see the great ship alongside some buccaneer's vessel, guns ablaze.

Captain Quest was not a bloodthirsty man, though; his tactics designed to incapacitate a ship and capture its crew. He wanted no part of the slaughter so many other colonial captains relished. His thoughts were soon interrupted from behind.

"Captain, you wished to see me?"

Quest turned to the tall young man who'd stepped up behind him. Commander Roger Bannon didn't resemble his fellow officers. He was an imposing figure, looking more like the brawny men he commanded.

"Yes, Commander. How go the preparations?"

"We're ready at the first sign of trouble."

"Good, good." Quest paused to mull his next words over carefully.

"Was that all, sir?" asked Bannon.

"No, Commander." The Captain placed his hands behind his back. "Commander Bannon-- if you wish, I can make for Port Royal."

"What for, sir?" Bannon asked, already suspecting the answer.

Quest set his jaw firmly. "A warship is no place for your daughter, Commander Bannon."

"Begging the Captain's pardon, sir, but I firmly believe the safest place for Jessica to be is with me."

"The *Questor* will be going into battle with the most bloodthirsty pirates on the seas, Commander. I do not hold the old sailor's superstition about women on ship, but..."

"Captain, I would rather Jessica remain here, with myself and the other officers to protect her, than have her marooned to some colonial town alone."

"Very well, Commander. Attend to your duties-- dismissed."

"Aye-aye, Captain."

Commander Bannon turned and entered the aft cabins. His own quarters lay just below the Captain's own. Removing his hat, he opened the door and stepped inside. Objects from his many travels decorated the cabin, all reminders of his years at sea as a simple sailor. He even still preferred to sleep in a hammock while on the ship.

Over to his right was the door to the adjoining smaller cabin. He knocked, then smoothed his prematurely white hair.

"Father?" asked a lilting voice from within.

"Yes, Jessica. May I come in?"

"Of course."

Bannon opened the door to find his daughter Jessica stitching needlepoint. *How much she looks like her mother,* he thought. Her fiery red hair was pinned up neatly, exposing the light skin of her neck, and her sparkling emerald eyes focused intently on her work. She wore a rather modest dress, of simple design, with a neckline cut much higher than most young ladies her age were wearing, but while on ship, they had agreed, the more the crew saw her as a girl and the less as a woman, the better.

"Jessica, dear, the Captain offered to let you go ashore at Port Royal, in Jamaica."

She turned to him, fixing him with her most inherently intelligent gaze. "Do you wish me to leave, Father?"

"Of course not, Jessica, but the Captain believes it isn't safe for you aboard."

Jessica placed her needlework on the small mahogany table beside her. "_I_ believe I am safest wherever _you_ are, Father. Besides, I am quite capable of looking out for myself-- I'm nearly seventeen, now."

"That's my girl," he replied. Bannon gave his daughter a quick hug and kiss, then returned to his duties.

Once she heard the outer door close and lock, Jessica reached under the bedcovers to retrieve the book she'd shoved underneath them at the first knock. Opening the leather-bound novel, she flipped through the pages of adventure and action to find her place, and continued daydreaming.

**********

Three days later, the *Questor*'s lookout shouted excitedly from the crows-nest.

"A ship, Captain! And she flies the Jolly Roger!"

Both of the senior officers were on the quarterdeck. Bannon raised his glass. Through it, he could make out the brown, red and black hull of the other ship. It looked like a good match for the *Questor* in size and firepower, but he was confident. The top deck looked nearly deserted. He read the ship's name beside its masthead: the *Bandit Queen*. Bannon's eyes went wide for a moment, then focused again. He looked up atop the ship's tallest mast, and sure enough, there flew the black and white colors, the crowned skull and sabre that struck terror into sailors on these waters. Bannon turned to the Captain.

"Captain, congratulations-- it's 'Black Dog' Wildey."

Quest nodded. "Excellent," he replied. "We begin our mission with the most notorious pirate of the Caribbean."

*********

Aboard the *Bandit Queen*, the crew waited their Captain's order. Black Dog Wildey whispered to the young man beside him. The boy was his favorite crewman and best friend. Beneath his tousled blond hair, his clear blue eyes betrayed little of the apprehension Wildey knew to lay within him.

"Are ye ready for a fight, Jonny boy?"

"Aye, Captain."

TO BE CONTINUED...

I can't believe I started another one of these things. Tell me what you think. The title isn't permanent yet, but it nearly is.