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Return to Monkey Island
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Part III: The Lost, Found and Lost Locker of Captain Scurvy
Guybrush strolled up the gang-plank onto his ship. Mungo, Yangja and Blondebeard were standing to attention.
“All right, men…um…and woman. What is our mission?” he barked.
The crew looked at each other and replied, “To find a treasure that’s worth more than we can count, that is believed to be non-existent and has been lost for years.”
Guybrush stared. “You guys don’t have much hope in finding it, do you?”
“The chances of finding it are about…” the crew began.
“83%?” said Blondebeard, scratching his head.
“90%?” said Mungo, counting on his fingers.
“99%!” said Yangja, folding her arms and smirking at Guybrush.
Guybrush looked startled. “Well, that means we still have a chance! Okay, crew, let’s go to Spamme Island!”
Ten minutes later, Guybrush was steering the ship with Blondebeard while Mungo and Yangja worked hard below deck.
Guybrush turned to Blondebeard. “So, you know a little about Captain Scurvy’s hidden locker?”
Blondebeard nodded. “Aye! I know a little.”
“Okay, then. Do you have any idea where the treasure or the clue is?”
Blondebeard laughed. “If I knew that, then I’d be the richest pirate in the Caribbean!”
Guybrush frowned. "What do you know?"
“Well, I know that his middle name is Yvon; not many people know that. And I know that Captain Scurvy roamed the seas about fifty years ago, so I'm guessing that he could still be alive.”
“Awesome!” exclaimed Guybrush. “If we find Captain Scurvy, maybe we could persuade him into telling us the location of the locker or the clue!”
Blondebeard shook his head. “I doubt it...”
"Here we are, Spamme Island!" Guybrush beamed as he steered the ship into the harbour.
The crew and Guybrush quickly scampered down the gangplank and onto the jetty. A busy town, Hamme, loomed in front of them. The streets were thick with people of all kinds, shops, bars and inns. But something was odd. Many buildings had large signs nailed over the door that read “No Pirates” and many men in bold, red coats carrying large spears patrolled the streets. Guybrush immediately took charge. "Okay crew! Free time for everyone but Mungo, who has to watch the ship."
"Aw! Why me?" whined Mungo, but everyone had already left.
Guybrush headed straight towards the local bar. “I usually find that bars are very convenient for information and meeting people. And I like the grog, too.”
He strolled through the doors and strolled up to the bar. He frowned at the “No Pirates” sign over the counter. “I’d like grog, please,” he said with a smile.
A grouchy-looking barman stared across the counter at Guybrush. “I’ll be giving you grog, after you show me your silver.”
Guybrush looked annoyed. “But I don’t have any silver,” he whined.
“Then you won’t have any grog, either,” said the barman with a sneer.
“Look, when do you come off?” Guybrush frowned, pointing at the barman.
A familiar voice sounded from behind Guybrush. “Stand aside, honey, let me take care of this.”
Guybrush turned around to see Elaine standing behind him. “Elaine! I’ve been searching everywhere for you!”
Elaine put her hands on her hips. “Guybrush, did Jacques give you my letter?”
“And what did I tell you to do?”
“Stay and look after the mansion while Grandpa Marley is away?”
“That’s right. And what did I ask you not to do?”
“Ah…eat the chicken in the cellar?”
Elaine sighed. “No, honey, I said not to come and find me while I was doing my…um…errands.”
“Yes, but the Voodoo Lady said…” began Guybrush.
Elaine threw her hands in the air. “The Voodoo Lady said this! The Voodoo Lady said that! Who cares about what the Voodoo Lady said! You broke our rule, and that is to never break rules.”
“But, you are in danger! If you find Captain Scurvy’s hidden locker…”
“How did you know that I was looking for Captain Scurvy’s hidden locker?” asked Elaine, looking confused.
Guybrush continued. “…you’ll be killed and begin a huge war which will end the Caribbean!”
Elaine looked surprised. “I don’t know how you found out that I was looking for Scurvy’s locker, but am I really in danger?”
The barman interrupted her. “Hey! I hate to break up the conversation, but are you going to buy a drink or not?”
Elaine looked at the barman. “Sorry. I’ll have fourteen mugs of rum and a glass of water, thanks.” she said, showing the barman a bag of coins. The barman quickly prepared the drinks and handed them to Elaine on a tray. Elaine took the tray back to a table surrounded by her crew.
Guybrush followed intently. “Yes Elaine, you are in extreme danger! And as your husband, I say that you should go back to Melee while I seek and destroy the locker!”
Elaine shook her head. “No Guybrush. I spent good money and time on this crew and I’m not going to stop our journey just because you say that I’m in danger. Oh, and Guybrush, be careful on this island, piracy is outlawed.”
Guybrush found Blondebeard wandering up and down the docks. “Elaine’s not going to give up seeking the locker,” he explained.
Blondebeard sighed. “The governor always was stubborn. There’s nothing I can do about that.”
“Well, what can we do?” asked Guybrush.
“We could prevent her from finding the locker. I know! Let’s sink her ship!”
“No! We’re already on the island that the locker is hidden on!”
“Oh, yeah. Well, she doesn’t have the map, and we do.”
“And she probably doesn’t know about Captain Scurvy’s whereabouts either!” agreed Guybrush.
“Well, neither do we.”
Blondebeard laughed. “Well, apparently there are three people in town, the Lyar brothers, which know the location of Captain Scurvy. But, two of them always lie and one of them always tells the truth. Or is it the other way around?”
Guybrush looked confused. “Why would they do that?”
“Utter madness.” said Blondebeard, shaking his head.
“Where can I find these Lyars?”
“Somewhere in town.” said Blondebeard. “They aren’t too hard to miss.”
So, Guybrush headed into town, and began his search for the Lyar brothers. As he was wandering the streets, he came across a large pile of junk with a skull sitting on top.
Guybrush looked at the skull. “That has to be the second ugliest skull I’ve ever laid eyes on!”
The skull barked back “Well you’re not exactly Prince Charming either!” Guybrush jumped with surprise. The skull laughed maniacally.
Guybrush smiled. “Murray? Is that you?”
The skull stopped laughing and said, “Yes mortal, it is I, Murray the invincible, immortal, demonic, talking skull!”
“What are you doing here on Spamme Island?” Guybrush asked. “I thought you had a job as a bouncer at Planet Threepwood.”
Murray looked sad. “Well, I got a little carried away and Jenny…er…’Elaine’ threw me in the ocean. Then I washed up here and plotted her miserable demise! Muhahahahaha!”
Guybrush frowned. “What are you doing on top that pile of junk?”
“Junk? Junk! JUNK! Foolish mortal! This pile of “junk” is no pile of junk, but my body!” As Murray spoke, the pile of junk rose into the air to form a make-shift body.
“What? You have a body now? Where did you get it?” Guybrush said, overwhelmed.
“With my brute, demonic force! Well, with my teeth, actually. And a lot of nails and sticky tape.” grinned Murray, flexing his makeshift arm.
“Now you have a body, what are you going to do with it?” Guybrush asked curiously.
“Why, I’m going to rule the Caribbean!”
“With a mop for an arm?”
“Uhh….I’ll slaughter the innocent!”
“Well…I’ll give that guy who ate my sandwich a good thumping!”
“Well, that’s a start,” smiled Guybrush. “But then what will you do?”
Murray looked confused. “I’ll…err…um…actually, I’m not really sure. You see, I’ve gone without a body for such a long time and I…well…forget a lot of the positive factors of having a body.”
“Why don’t you become good?”
Murray gasped. “No! Not ever! I would never turn from…dark…what the heck, I could be…good, I guess.”
Guybrush smiled. “That’s the spirit! Now, can you tell me where to find the Lyar brothers, good guy?”
“Yeah, in the town square. But one more thing, don’t call me good guy. Just Murray.”
“Okay, see you round, Murray!” waved Guybrush, walking away.
Murray sat down again and put his head in his make-shift hands. “Where did I go wrong? How could a mere mortal persuade me to turn to the good side? I was meant to rule! I was meant to master the universe! I was meant to command the underworld! It was I who was meant to kill Frieza! I must think this over.” He stood back up and walked away.
Guybrush arrived in the town square to find three men, one short, one tall and one medium sized, but apart from that, they all looked identical. A young man with a fishing rod walked up the three brothers and asked, “Lyar brothers, is today a good day for fishing?”
The tallest brother replied, “Of course! The tide today will bring in all of the largest fish.” The middle brother replied, “Why, yes, you’re the greatest fisher on the island!” and the shortest brother just replied, “No.” The young man walked off happy, thanking the brothers as he went.
Guybrush frowned. “I suppose that all the brothers could be telling the truth, in a way. But I think that the shorter one is the one that tells the truth. Gee, I wonder if those parrots on Knuttin Atoll have met these guys.”
So Guybrush wandered over to the Lyars and asked, “Do you know where Captain Rodger Scurvy lives?”
The three pirates looked at Guybrush for a second. The tallest replied, “I’ve never even heard of Captain Scurvy in my life.” The middle Lyar replied, “He lives on a ship in the middle of the ocean.” And the smallest replied, “He lives in the old clock tower across the square.”
“Hmmm. All three of the Lyars could be right, but I think that the smallest Lyar always tells the truth. So I guess I should go to the old clock tower.”
Guybrush found a large piece of paper nailed to the clock tower door. “Property of Spamme Island Fort,” he read. He jiggled the doorknob. “Locked! I guess Captain Scurvy doesn’t live here after all. Oh well, my quest to find the locker continues, slowly. I know! I’ll go to the Fort and ask if they know anything about the clock tower or Captain Scurvy! I wonder if any of the locals know anything about Spamme Island Fort.”
Guybrush found a tall, broad-shouldered man with a haircut to rival his own. He was looking at his reflection in a shop window. Guybrush announced himself. “I’m Guybrush Threepwood and I’m a mighty…um…floor inspector.”
The man looked at Guybrush for a second and finally spoke. “Hello, my name is Andy Prosperitous and I, too, am a flooring inspector. How can I help a fellow employee?”
Guybrush looked dumbfounded. “I…ah…was assigned to inspect the floors in the Fort and I was wondering if you knew anything about the place.”
“Spamme Island Fort? Ooooh! I’ve heard nothing but bad stories about that place.”
“What is it used for?”
“It’s where they keep all the vicious, nasty and thieving pirates that dare come onto the beaches Spamme Island. The Red Coats keep guard over all the captured pirates within its walls.”
“Who are the Red Coats?”
“They are the law enforcement on this Island. They patrol these very streets to protect us from vagrants and pirates.”
Guybrush grinned. “They sure are doing a good job.” he said.
Andy grinned back and replied, “You bet! I haven’t seen a pirate here in years.”
“Speaking of pirates, what do you know about Rodger Scurvy?”
“Oh! You mean Captain Scurvy? Apparently, he hid a priceless treasure somewhere on the island. I don’t believe that’s true. Anyway, the Red Coats arrested him years ago.”
“Well, see you ‘round, Andy,” said Guybrush as he walked off.
Guybrush pulled out his map of Spamme Island and began to study it. “Hmmm, there’s Spamme Island Fort,” he said, tapping the small drawing of a fort with his finger. “It’s not too far from here.”
Guybrush stood in front of a long bridge that led to the huge gates of Spamme Island Fort. A single Red Coat stood guard in front of the gate.
“Halt! Who goes there?” the Red Coat cried as Guybrush approached.
“I’m Guybrush Threepwood and I’m…looking for work.”
The Red Coat grinned. “That’s great! We need an odd jobber to do some work around the old fort. But before I let you in, I must search your pockets. It’s just our routine, you know.”
The Red Coat turned out Guybrush’s pockets.
“Is that it? Just a map of the island? I was expecting a rubber chicken with a pulley in the middle at least.”
“Yeah, I don’t have anything else to my name but this old map of Spamme Island. I’m sure I’ll find more things as I go along.” said Guybrush, as he pocketed the map.
The Red Coat opened the gate and took Guybrush into the fort. They came into a large courtyard.
“Okay,” said the Red Coat. “Go to Colonel Redface. He’ll have work for you.”
“Which one is Colonel Redface?” asked Guybrush, looking over the sea of Red Coats.
“He’s the one with the huge orange moustache. Look! He’s over there, next to the pigpen.”
Guybrush wandered over to Colonel Redface.
Colonel Redface looked up and smiled when he saw Guybrush. “Ah! You must be that odd jobber we’ve been trying to get for ages. Well, let’s put you to work.”
He took Guybrush down to the dungeons and handed him a brush with metal bristles and a bucket of warm, soapy water.
“Here, clean the dungeon floor until I get back.”
Guybrush began his search for Captain Scurvy immediately. The dungeon was filled with several single man cells, each cell filled with a scruffy-looking pirate. He found a large, mean-looking pirate picking his teeth in one cell.
“Excuse me, sir. Is Captain Scurvy in this dungeon?” asked Guybrush.
The large pirate flicked a toothpick at the wall. “What’s it to ya?”
“I’ve come to set him free,” said Guybrush, immediately biting his tongue afterwards.
The pirate sat up straight. “In that case, I’m Captain Scurvy.”
Another voice broke the air. “No! I’m Captain Scurvy!”
Soon, every pirate in the dungeon was crying out and begging Guybrush to release them.
Guybrush thought for a second. “Okay, Captain Scurvy is supposed to be over fifty years old, so I’ll just find all of the old pirates and pick between them.”
The job was fairly simple. There was only one very old pirate. He was sitting in the corner of his cell, scribbling equations on the wall.
“Are you the real Captain Scurvy?” asked Guybrush sheepishly.
The old man replied, “Yes, I’m the real Captain Rodger Scurvy. And I can prove it.”
“How, then?” smiled Guybrush, folding his arms.
“My middle name is Yvon.”
“Good enough for me.” Guybrush shrugged. “Okay, I’ll let you go if you tell me the location of your locker, or the clue to finding it.”
Captain Scurvy stroked his long, white and sighed. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard that.”
“So…are you going to tell me?”
Captain Scurvy went red in the face. “No! I’m not. That treasure is reserved for me (if I’m ever released) or future members of the Scurvy family.”
Guybrush looked disappointed. “So, are there any future members of the Scurvy family at all?”
“Well, there was my daughter, but she ran away to marry some twit.” said Scurvy sadly.
“What was her name?”
“Her name was Mary-Ann Scurvy, ‘till she married that Threepwood idiot.”
Guybrush’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open. “Wouldn’t that make her Mary-Ann Threepwood?” he stammered.
Scurvy frowned at Guybrush. “No, it would make her Mary-Ann Plankton. What do you think?”
“M-Mary-Ann Threepwood was my m-mother.” Guybrush babbled uncontrollably.
Captain Scurvy looked startled for a second and then said, “No, you’re just trying to play tricks on me to get my locker.”
Guybrush shook his head. “No, she was my mother, and I can prove it.”
Scurvy just stared.
Guybrush took a deep breath and continued. “Her middle name was Bess.”
Scurvy gasped. “No! It-it can’t be! You’re my-my…Grandson?”
“Grand…pa!” cried Guybrush, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Come now, cheer up, boy. Tell me, how is she? How is Mary-Ann? Is she okay?”
Guybrush’s lip began to wobble. He remembered the two skeletons that he stumbled upon many years ago. “She’s…I mean, I haven’t seen her for so long.”
“Well, I guess you must be a Scurvy after all. Now, let me out and I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
Guybrush pulled a bristle from the brush and began to pick the lock. “I’ve never done this before.” he admitted. Suddenly, the lock clicked open.
A couple of minutes later the two where walking back towards Hamme.
“Wow, what an amazing jail-break that was!” exclaimed Guybrush.
“Yes, but the machine cross-bows were a little over the top, I think,” said Scurvy, removing an arrow from his hat.
Guybrush turned his attention back to the locker. “So, now can you tell me where the locker is?”
Scurvy sighed. “I’ve been in that fort for over forty years and in that time I’ve forgotten where I hid the locker. But, luckily, I hid a clue somewhere in my house.”
“You mean the old clock tower?”
“Yeah. That’s where I live, right?”
“I think this is going to be a very long day,” moaned Guybrush.
Scurvy pulled a large golden key from his pocket and unlocked the clock tower door. He and Guybrush made their way up to the top floor.
“Now, I’m sure that I hid the clue somewhere in here.” said Scurvy as they opened the door to a room filled to the brim with all sorts of equipment. Guybrush whistled in awe. “Wow! What is all this stuff?”
“When I wasn’t pirating, science was my hobby. And music. I loved to compose my own music as well,” said Scurvy, pointing to an old Pianola in the corner. An old pile of boxes containing Pianola rolls sat on the top.
“Hey! Maybe you hid some kind of map in one of those boxes, Grandpa.” said Guybrush as he began to search them all.
Guybrush found a box labelled “The Clue”. His pulse was pounding as he opened the box. But all he found was a very battered and used Pianola roll. Scurvy saw the roll and cried out, “That could be it! Put it in the Pianola!”
So Guybrush set up the roll in the Pianola and turned it on. A quick piece of music burst forth from the Pianola. Guybrush shook his head. “I don’t think this is…” Suddenly the music stopped and after a long pause, a single note sounded.
Scurvy gasped. “Have you got a map of the island?” he demanded. Guybrush pulled the map out of his pocket and handed it to Scurvy. The old pirate slid the map behind the Pianola roll and started the roll from the beginning.
The music no longer sounded but instead, the small holes in the roll showed several different places in Spamme Island as it rotated. When the roll got to the part where it would pause and then play a single note, the small hole appeared over a small island just offshore from the main island.
Guybrush gasped. “That island must be where you hid the locker!”
Guybrush gathered the rest of his crew and the sailed to the small island, which turned out to be called Bacone Isle. Bacone Isle turned out to be pretty boring, compared to the other islands that Guybrush had been to. The island supported a few palm trees and plenty of sand. Yangja looked around the small island. “So, where is this so-called “fabulous treasure”, Captain?” she said, putting her hands on her hips.
Guybrush turned to Scurvy. “Grandpa, do you remember much about this island?”
“Yes, I buried the locker here!” cried Scurvy with a huge smile. Blondebeard, Mungo and Yangja groaned.
Guybrush put his head in his hands. “Do you remember where?” he asked.
Scurvy scratched his head. “All I remember was burying it next to one of those palm trees.” he replied, pointing to a ring of about thirty palm trees.
“It could be under any one of those trees.” said Mungo, inspecting the closest tree.
Guybrush wandered into the middle of the ring to a large rock. He rubbed the surface of the rock with his hand. “Hmmm, maybe this rock has something to do with the location of the treasure. Huh? What’s this?” He found something scratched into the surface of the rock. “It looks like the number five with a picture of the sun drawn above it. I know! The locker is buried under the tree that the sun is above at five o’clock in the afternoon, since there is no sun here at five o’clock in the morning. Gee, I guess all those years at grade school weren’t a waste, after all.”
Luckily, it was almost five o’clock. Guybrush told his crew his plan and they waited by the rock until the right time. At five o’clock sharp, the sun was directly above a palm tree north-east from the big rock. The five quickly grabbed their shovels and began to dig. Finally, Mungo’s shovel hit a solid object. “I’ve found it!” he cried. Everybody helped Mungo drag out the locker.
“Open it! Open it!” cried Blondebeard.
“No,” said Guybrush. “We can’t open it. Now we’ve got to destroy it.”
“What?!” cried Mungo, Yangja, Blondebeard and Scurvy, all at the same time.
“But we worked so hard to find it!” moaned Mungo.
“You can’t destroy my life’s work!” cried Scurvy.
“We have to destroy it! It’s extremely dangerous!” said Guybrush firmly.
His crew glared at him for a second, and then sighed unhappily.
Meanwhile, back on Spamme Island, Elaine and her crew were preparing to set sail.
“I guess that Captain Scurvy’s hidden Locker will remain hidden.” said Elaine sadly to her crew, as she carried a box below deck. “I would have really liked to have impressed Guybrush by finding it, but naturally, he had to interfere.” Elaine said to herself. A cry for help shattered her thoughts. Elaine quickly drew her sword and quickly hurried up to the deck. She found her entire crew gagged and tied to a mast. “What in heaven’s name happened here?” she cried, breathlessly.
A wicked voice sounded from behind her back. “If you value you head, Governor, I’d put your sword on the deck, immediately.”
Elaine dropped her sword and slowly turned around.
She stared straight into the faces of twenty vicious pirates. A familiar figure pushed his way to the front of the group. “We’re taking command this vessel, so if you want to survive the voyage, you’d better follow orders, Miss Marley!” he sneered.
Guybrush and his crew loaded the locker onto his ship. “So, how are we going to destroy the locker, Captain?” asked Blondebeard, as they sailed out of Hamme harbour.
Guybrush thought for a second. “I haven’t really thought about that, actually.” he answered sheepishly.
“Well, there’s a store called ‘Stan’s Diamond Destroyers’ back on Plunder Island,” suggested Yangja.
Scurvy looked confused. “Why would anyone want a diamond destroyed anyway?”
“Ship ahoy!” called Mungo, from the crow’s nest. Guybrush spotted a large ship approaching from behind. “Quick, Blondebeard,” he ordered. “Pass me your spyglass.”
Blondebeard handed it over. Guybrush looked closely at the approaching ship. “That’s Elaine’s ship!” he cried. Suddenly, a cannon ball whizzed past Guybrush’s ship.
“Hey! If that’s your wife, then why is she firing at us?” cried Mungo.
Elaine’s ship came alongside Guybrush’s own. A crew of nasty-looking pirates snarled at laughed at Guybrush from the deck. “That’s not Elaine’s crew,” thought Guybrush to himself.
“Ahoy! Who goes there?” he called out to the pirates, cautiously.
“Only the living hate from your past, Sheepgood.” sneered a very familiar, sly voice.
Bells rang in Guybrush’s head. “That sound like…but it can’t be!” he cried.
A mean pirate with a very prominent chin stepped forwards. “That’s right, wherever you go on sea or on land, you can’t…”
“I know, I know.” Guybrush interrupted, rolling his eyes. “You can’t ever hide from Largo LaGrande.”
Largo laughed. “You see, mates, no one can forget a dastardly pirate with a rhyming motto,” he grinned at his crew.
“Don’t you mean a dastardly bra-wearing pirate?” smiled Guybrush. Largo’s crew roared with laughter. Largo glared angrily at Guybrush.
“Shut your grog hole, ya staggering sea-lion!” Largo roared. “I’ve had it up to here with you and your dancin’ monkeys! Empty the cannons on him, me hearties!” he ordered his crew.
“Wait a minute!” cried Guybrush, but it was too late. His ship was pummelled with thousands of cannon balls and it sank immediately. “The locker!” cried Scurvy, as he struggled to grab onto a piece of wood. Largo grinned. “We’ll be needing that,” he said, as a pirate fished it out of the water with a gaff. “Fish them out, as well,” Largo ordered, pointing to Guybrush and his crew.
Guybrush, Scurvy, Yangja, Mungo and Blondebeard were roughly lifted out of the ocean and thrown painfully on the deck of Largo’s ship. “Put ‘em in the hold with the other prisoners, then, set a course for Monkey Island!”
Guybrush went pale. “Monkey Island! Oh no, what have I gotten myself into this time?”