One Piece; The Great Pirate Era

"Never mind," Hawkins was saying before Flint poured the juice in his mouth. He immediately gagged and spit the juice all over. "What the hell are you doing?!"

He then coughed several times as he choked on the unwanted juice.

Immediately after his gagging and coughing fit, Flint laughed at his expense. "What? It tastes good." He remarked, as he sampled some of the pickled juice himself. "Besides you're the one who asked for it!"

"That doesn't give you an invitation to just shove it down my throat!" Hawkins exclaimed. His stomach was growling even louder now. "Do we have anymore real food?" It was pretty obvious (to him anyway) that the juice was just not going to cut it.

"Not anymore." Anais replied, as she finished the last bit of her pickled cucumber. With his hunger subsided somewhat, Flint patted his stomach contently with a refreshing sigh. "That was good!"

When Hawkins asked if they had more food however, Flint's demeanor barely changed at all. "Oh well, you snooze you lose." He remarked, not in the least disappointed, as he had his share for his stomach. "Maybe there will be some food at the island."

"Even if there is, it will be a while before we arrive." Anais remarked. "It normally takes four hours at least, and that's with Marine ships." She added, indicating with their dinky fishing boat it would probably be even longer.

Hawkins groaned. He rolled over on his side. It wasn't like this was the only time he had been forced to sleep on an empty stomach.

"Oh well, look on the bright side." Flint remarked, before placing the sealed jar of pickled juice near Hawkins. "If you get hungry in the mean time, you can drink that!"

"Thanks," Hawkins said. Although it was gruff, there was sincerity in his voice. But he was still not going to drink it. Not yet.

As Hawkins laid back on his side, to bask in the moonlight and sleep away all the hours, which seemed to be a past time for him, Flint occupied himself by peering over the fishing boat's ledge. Although it was night and quite dark, he could still make out the ripples and waves that the boat was creating as it rode across the water.

Without hesitation he removed his hat and gently placed it on the floor, before sticking his head into the cold, wet, and dark waters. He had hoped to see if there was any nearby aquatic life swimming or floating about, but it was hard enough to see a foot or two in front of him.

Annoyingly he pulled himself out of the water, gasping for air, before frowning. "This sucks, I can't see if there's anything out there." He complained, as the water continued to dribble off his head and hair. "Well if you some fish, there's a rod over there." Anais remarked, pointing to a fishing rod that was on the inside side of the boat.

"What!?" Flint barked out more irritated, "When were you going to tell me this!?"

"Oh no you don't," Hawkins interjected, already on his feet and making his way to the fishing rod. "Hunger comes before sightseeing."

As Hawkins rose to his feet, Flint had already readied and cast the fishing rod and line over. He held firmly on the grip of the pole, while Hawkins sprung up, and walked forcefully towards his spot. Mostly because his crew-mate was rocking the small vessel. It didn't take muck to shake this fishing boat, even insignificant waves pushed and rocked it, whereas a true ship wouldn't.

Causing more commotion on the ship, Hawkins was ready to forcefully yank the rod out of Flint's grip, as he patiently sat, attempting to reel something in, whenever it may bite. However, his calmness soon waned as Hawkins rushed over. "No way, I got to it first!" Flint remarked irritated, moving the rod to his other side, where Hawkins was not, and so he couldn't reach it as easily. "Get your own!"

"Kid, if there's one thing you have to learn it's to beware of a starving pirate," Hawkins said as he reached for the rod. "You're lucky we're on the same side or I'd shoot you."

"Starving?" Flint asked rhetorically, with a hint of irritation. With his hands still on the rod, sitting contently on the ledge of the ship, he veered his sight onto Hawkins approaching him from his backside. "We just ate before we left Whiskey breaths base," He stated, as his crew-member didn't appear to be in any agonizing state of starvation, or any for that matter.

"Besides, it's your fault." Flint felt the need to add, "You wouldn't be hungry if you ate the pickles!" Although she found it hard to believe, Anais found herself agreeing with Flint. "He has a point, you know."

As soon as Hawkins reached for the fishing rod, Flint moved it fully to his other side, so that his hand could not grab it in time. "I'm using it right now, you can have your turn later!" Flint growled irritably.

"Yeah and do you know how much fighting we both had to do?" Hawkins asked irritably. "Plus, I've got liquor in me now."

While he was doing his best to remain reasonable, he completely lost it after hearing Flint's comment.

"You're both the ones who ate it all before I had the chance!" he barked.

However, he then took a deep breath. Because even though he would like to nothing more than to punch Flint in the face at the moment, he was tired from their fight with an empty belly. And he was pretty sure he could potentially sink the boat in his attempt.

"Fine," he said. And planted himself not far from where he was and leaned against the edge of the boat.

With Hawkins anger stopped for the time being, Flint resumed the patient, yet boring sport of fishing. He wasn't sure what he would catch, how it would taste, how they would prepare it on the ship, or any of the other near future plans of fishing, but he figured he would cross that bridge once they got to that part.

As time went by and the boat drifted in the sea, a small spec became visible in the distance. And gradually, this small spec became an even larger spec until one could see the buildings and ships inhabiting the island.

For a small island there sure were a lot of people. They moved to and fro like ants and the lights that lit the streets flickered in the distance. Clearly, it wasn't a quiet town at night. Or, at least, on this particular evening it wasn't.

Through the hours, Flint passed time fishing, while Anais navigated their ship on the right path, and Hawkins spent the entirety sleeping through it all. However as the darkness gave way to faint flickering orbs in the horizon, the two awakened members took notice of it.

"We're almost there," Anais remarked smugly at her skills, to which Flint stared in astonishment. "Woah, our first actual island alright!" As he shouted and shook about on the boat where he sat, such commotion would be enough to stir the most hardened sleeper.

Even if the mention and exclamation of an approaching island was not enough, a peculiar odor would be enough. The smell, which lingered about, also possessed a potency that when inhaled, would harbor mild irritation or inflammation.

If one was to take notice of this, and how could they not, they would notice smoke, and the source of it, a fire. This burning and crackling fire, which was roasting two skinned fish, was set right inside of the boat.

Hawkins was fast asleep, his stomach growling occasionally as the night passed on. Currently, he was dreaming of eating a nice, juicy stake in addition to other such pleasantries. In fact, there was a great feast on the table before him. It was one of those dreams (which Hawkins always liked best) that felt real. He practically smell the food being cooked in the kitchen and just moments away from being brought out to the table.

But then Hawkins started to realize that this smell was a little too real. And, it was no longer a good smell but rather a very bad one. As though the cooking had gone severely wrong. The aroma was so strong, Hawkins felt himself slowly stepping out of his dream and back into reality.

The smell was still present when he woke up. He followed the scent to see what exactly was going on.

Broiling above a swaying and potent fire, were several slabs of skinned sizzling fish, with the scales and bones removed. "Oh hey," Flint greeted his sober crew-member, as he poked at the tender meat, and stirred the crackling fire. "Was wondering when you'd get up. We got fish.." Which was cooking on an open fire. On a boat.

"And there's an island ahead!" Flint shouted even more enthusiastically.

"You can't just cook fish out in the open like that! What if you burn down the boat?" Hawkins asked. He was irritated and yet he also seemed to be holding himself back a bit perhaps because of the fish which looked delicious.

After hearing Hawkins bickering, Anais brought it upon herself to uninterestedly see what they were up to. For the time being, having her eyes off of where they were sailing wouldn't give them too much trouble. Especially because they were so close to shore anyway.

"Augh! What are you doing!?" She shrieked out, after spotting what he was shouting about. The fire crackled and burned, as it broiled three tender slabs of fish. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Flint asked rhetorically, minus an attitude.

"I can't take my eyes off of you for a second!"

Hawkins grabbed Flint by the collar and pulled him away from the fish. He then took a bucket and tossed it to Anais. He didn't say anything, assuming she would know what to do. It was a sacrifice that needed to be made.

Angrily Flint flailed momentarily, as he was grabbed by Hawkins. "Hey, what gives!?" He exclaimed with a snarl. Fumbling with the bucket thrown her way, Anais then dipped it into the ocean, and tossed the salty water over their cooking meal.

The fish, and the sticks piercing the meat, quickly broke and toppled to the bottom of the boat's bed, where they became watered and ruined. The rushing bucket water continued on its course, as it battered against the fire. These flames were inside a jar, and were being produced by some of Marine Captain Whiskey's secret stash.

Therefore, the salt water pounded the glass, it fell over, spilling a thin layer of the flammable alcohol throughout the boat. Immediately the liquid ignited with the current flames, spreading wherever the liquid was.

Hawkins dropped Flint. He took off his vest, threw it on the ground, and began to try and stomp out the fire.

"Damn it!" He shouted, as he tried to get rid of the flames.

"You moron! Who uses alcohol for a fire anyway!?" Anais shrieked, as she nervously watched the spreading fire, and flammable liquid reaching to all sides of the boat. It was slowly, but surely reaching its way to all corners.

"Hey, I'm not the one that knocked over my fire jar!" Flint shouted in his defense, which was true enough. Suddenly Hawkins tight grip dropped him, and he was free to move again. Just as his crew-member began to complain about the serious situation they were in.

"Oh don't worry," Flint remarked nonchalantly, before pointing to a see-through sack of whiskey rations. "I made sure to get you a secret stash for later." The only problem was that the flames and running whiskey water was getting dangerously close to this bag of goodies.

"Augh!" Anais shrieked again, before frantically rushing to the side of the boat, so she could futilely splash water into it. "Hurry up and help me, or I'll have Hawkins throw you overboard!"

"Hey, but I can't swim!" Flint shouted, to which Anais snarled. "That's my point!" And without delay, Flint rushed towards the bucket, carrying a heavy brimming load of saltwater.

From the shore, if one was to stare, they could see a glowing orb in the sea's night horizon. It suddenly flashed brightly, before going out completely.

A group of people looked over towards the bright light in the horizon.

"Wow, they really outdid themselves this year!" one of them exclaimed to the others. The rest nodded in agreement, their faces beaming with excitement before they walked away.

The lights filling the town remained on throughout the night. And, although there was no use for the lights in the morning, the town was still as busy and crowded as ever. Instead of the lights, the town was full with colorful vendors each trying to sell whatever they could, banners that hung across the streets, and of course, food.

Nearby, the waters brushed against the beach. The tide was just beginning to switch over from high to low. And as it did so, it brought in some who had been momentarily lost at sea. A large bucket held Anais as the water brought her safely to shore.

Hawkins wasn't nearly as lucky. His face landed immediately in the sand, his arms wrapped around the edge of a board. Before he even had a chance to get up, another wave crashed on top of him and rushed passed Flint who was currently sitting on the board.

"I told you we would both fit," Hawkins said when he finally got his bearings. He spit sand and salt water out of his mouth and rubbed it irritably.