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[Ghost of Gramps]

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Ghost of Gramps stood along the shore north of Cove, in the Redlands, pondering. "What do I dooz wits dis heres?" He thought to himself.

The young boy, perhaps around ten, if only he himself knew, looked up at Ghost of Gramps with dark brown eyes that sparkled white in the bright early light of morning.

"Boy," Ghost of Gramps said, "Whatchu be doings outs dis ways?"

Beaming, as if one used to hardship, and quick with a smile despite any new position in life, despite how horrible, the dark brown young one replied, "Washin' ashore, Captain. Washin' ashore."

Ghost of Gramps chewed some on his fine homegrown leaf, then turned to the side and spat. Wiping at his long, snow white beard with a back hand, he answered back, "Not so sure if dis heres beez da shore yous wants to wash ups ons."

The young boy patted the ground before him with one hand. "Hard ground, Captain. Hard ground. Dis heres says its da shore I sure shoulds wash ups on. Floatins' abouts on a yard arm outs at seas aints' my idea of a lifes well spent."

"Uhmmm," Ghost of Gramps grumbled. Taking a flask of water from his shoulder, he hands it down to the boy. "Whats yer name, boy?"

The boy took the flask, swiftly tapping off the cap, and before swigging, said, "Buckwheat, Captain. My names Buckwheat." He brought the leather flask to his lips, letting the water flow into his mouth with relish.

"Careful, now," Ghost of Gramps cautioned. "More where dat der cames froms."

"Hmmm," Buckwheat bellowed. Then again, he held up the flask, drinking with great thirst.

Ghost of Gramps squinted, noticing a movement far off on the water of Loch Lake. "Best we be movin' on. Trouble in these parts should one stay in place too longs, hears?"

"Right-o, Captain." Buckwheat quickly leaped from his sitting position, and to his feet, standing ready to follow.

"Best you be coming along wits me. Some foods mights dooz ya goods, and some rest, but just knows I expects yas to earn yer keeps whiles stayings, hears?

Buckwheat beamed. Corking the flask, he handed it back to Ghost of Gramps, then saluted, exclaiming, "Yessa!" with a sharp salute.

Ghost of Gramps waved a hand as if to cast off such pretentiousness, then turned to begin a slow stride home, humped over at the back to help with his momentum.

"How da heck dids yous wash ups heres anyways, Buckwheats?"

Taking Ghost of Gramps by the arm, as if fullfilling a natural urge to assist so elderly appearing a man, Buckwheat replied, "A storm hit our ship not far from here. I was first cabin boy to Captain Black Jack McCrakin on the Lizzy Maloo."

Stopping in place, Ghost of Gramps peers down at the boy. "Smugglers they be. How yous ends ups with does pirates at so youngs?"

Buckwheat shuffled his feet a bit, then looking up at Ghost of Gramps, he replied, "Got caught up in that there urchin round-up down near Trinisic ways. Da sheriff took to scatterin' all of us from our camp outside town. Guess daez didn'ts likes us and ours manners at all. Alfalfa, Spanky, Froggy, and alls meez buds put to flight, burnins' our only home outside dem ders town walls."

"Uhmmm," Ghost of Gramps grumbled. I heard abouts dat. "Buts, I hear tells you boys were da lot, paintin' up town walls wits diz and dats, impregnating fine maids hardly of age in dat der club house yous alls calleds its, and other tricksterins."

Buckwheat, dropped his heads, feet shuffling again. Looking up once again, beaming with those bright white teeth from within his dark brown face, he stated, "Livin' da best we coulds, Captain."

Ghost of Gramps nodded. "So, scattered, you met up wits Black Jack McCrakin?"

Smiling, as seemed his nature, Buckwheat retorted, "Mets up, fer sures, Captain. If yous sees its dat ways. Only, some gold fer sure exchanged hands between dat der sheriff of Trinsic and Black Jack."

Grimacing under his long, thick, scraggling white beard, Ghost of Gramps once again grumbled in understanding. "Hmmmgh."

Leaning foward, Ghost of Gramps began trekking foward once more toward his spread along the water north of Cove. "Just about there, Buckwheat. We'll gets yous some good eats. So long as you earn yer keep, you can sleep up on the cliff, below the apple tree, so long as you don't minds da light of the lighthouse."

"No, no, no, Captains. Nots at all," Buckwheat replied excitedly, jumping and stepping all at once, as if never hurting at all from his long days adrift a sea.

"Well, we'll see," Ghost of Gramps murmured. "Lots of works to do about dis heres spread. You work, you eat, but no different from the rest of us, hear?'

"I hear, Captain. I hear."