On a cliff on an island in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night, a roaring bonfire roared. A man with one eye, with more wooden teeth than real, and a wooden shaft for a leg just underneath his right knee, sat this fire. He was an old man, bald with a fray of wild, wispy white hair. Hanging loosely from his mouth is an old, worn pipe. It's seen just as much as he has.
Looking up from the orange-red depths of the bonfire, he stared out over the massive harbor below. The island was vaguely crescent shaped, the back end of it being covered by a huge, dormant volcano. On the slopes of the island below was a thriving jungle which was losing a war to the colonials and adventurers of the island, and all around the inside of the crescent curve was docks, piers, and wooden city-scaping of all type. Traveling farther in-land only revealed the stucco and finer buildings of homes and businesses.
He looked up from the scene below, out on the horizon. The sea was black, the sky dark and empty; no moon tonight. But he hardly needed the moon any longer. He knew, instinctively knew, what was coming.
"Ahhh." He made a satisfied sound, half-yawn and exhalation of content, when, as if from nowhere, dawn broke. The sun pierced the far-horizon of the black sea, illuminating the dark sheet below. The old man looked down at this sheet and smiled even brighter, turning and walking away from the cliff. No need to man the bonfire anymore.
The numerous pirate ships below knew where they were going now.
Captain Bartholomew Hawking stood on the bow of the ship, a gust of wind kicking up the long blue coat he wore. He had one legged prop on the railing, and a scope held close to his one good eye. The other was covered in a large, silver-coin of a patch. Inside his scope, he saw the sprawling crescent-island of 'Melee Island'. It was the last stop before the trip to the fabled Monkey Island could begin.
"Goin' to the Scumm Bar, Hawkins?" Asked a grizzly seaman from behind, finished tying off ropes as the large vessel began to slow it's speed to begin docking procedures.
"Aye, Seaman, and the name's Captain Hawkin g," responded Bartholomew added emphasis to the 'g'. Looking down from his long looking glass, he looked at the man, showing his one good blue-eye.
"Uh, whatever ye say, sir," the seaman apologized and, turning, muttered under his breath. "Ye gotta have a ship tae be a Cap'n..."
Even from this distance, Bartholomew could see the massive wooden structure of the tale-told Scumm Bar. It was a huge structure, a pirate haven of sorts where men could get drunk at all time of day, and find any woman they wanted. Tortuga? He needed Tortuga, when you could visit Scumm Bar on Melee Island!