A Colouring Story

Use this fun colouring in to kickstart a bold story about some ruthless pirates.

Captain! My Captain

Captain! My Captain!

Landing at House of Serpents Cove

le Enchanteur has been delayed as she plays at being a bold bucanneer but is now preparing to land at the cove that is quite close to the House of the Serpents. She and her crew are making their way to the house as we speak.

Setting Sail

The first night at sea is possibly one of the worst nights of my life. The wind makes the rigging shriek as if the ship has been possesed by demons. The decks rise and fall in the raging storm as I lie in my hammock, incapacitated by seasickness. I expect to be mocked by the pirates but they are surprisingly sympathetic.
"Everyone is seasick m'dear when they first set sail," one of the women tells me, as I retch again, painfully, because by now my stomach is empty."We don;t laugh at anyone - we have all had to go through this."

I am surprised by her compassion. I had thought all pirates to be cruel but so far I have encountered kindness.
"You get what you deserve," she says suddenly.
"Pardon me?"
"You heard."
"But I didn;t say anything."
"Who says you actually have to talk to say anything?"

That makes me stop for a moment.
"Yes, thats right, we can read minds."
"........"
"Yes, anything you can think I can think better....." and she smiles.
"Oh no," I think.
"Oh YES!" she says. "You are quite right - this is going to be interesting."

She climbs out of the cabin door - she needs to climb because by now the storm is so bad the ship lies almost horizontal upon the water. Before she leaves she turns back to me.
"No, we aren;t all going to die. Yes, its a bad storm, but the ship can take it."

I lie in the dark, groaning and wishing for oblivion and, eventually, I fall asleep. When I awake the following morning we are sailing on a turquoise coloured sea under a blue sky. The sun is high and I guess it must be almost noon.
"Correct," shrieks a passing gull.
"Oh no," I groan.
"Oh yes, no privacy at all my dear," shouts a passing flying fish.

I try to gather my thoughts, but hear their echoes all around me, from the pirates, the insects, the birds, dolphins, fish......whatever I think seems to elicit an immediate response.
"You always thought noone listened to you," I think. "Now...."
"We can all hear you," says one of the pirates. He is tall and handsome.
"Thank you," he says. "Nice that you think that."

I wondered why I can't read his thoughts.
"You haven;t learnt to listen yet," he answers. "By the time we have been at sea for a few days you will pick up the knack - if you want to. You do? Good. Then, just watch and listen, and you will start to hear us."
"Oh yes you will," says a passing spider as it scuttles down a hole in the planks.
"No problem," yowls the ships cat as it prepares to pounce on a mouse which is obviously pleading for its life.

The day passes pleasantly enough. The sun rises higher and higher. The heat becomes unbearable. We slow down, and look like a painted ship on a painted ocean. An albatross flies overhead and I stare in alarm.
"You know the poem?" asks one of the women pirates. I nod, knowing the nod to be redundant. "Well, don;t worry. We aren;t sailing into it."

I wondered where we ARE sailing. As dusk falls, the sky paints itself all colours of the rainbow before permitting the sun to disappear into the sea. Silence falls with night. I begin to listen.... carefully.

All Is Not As It Seems

What is le Enchanteur's game? She is up to some mischief! Looking like a vulnerable sailor girl! Le Enchanteur vulnerable? I doubt the fearsome Desdemona would have been fooled by this little act. Those ropes look severed to me! She is up to something and I doubt it is either sweet or innocent.

YO HO HO me hearties.........

In the morning when I arrive at the beach it is pouring with rain. I have never seen so much water falling out of the sky. It runs off my face, my hair sticks to my head, my feet are soaked in their shoes. The wind howls, and the waves crash onto the shore bringing flotsam with them, debris of other lives.

To my amazement there is a pirate ship anchored in the bay. It looms through the spray of water and rain. I think that it might be a replica similar to the ship I once saw at Whitby (yorkshire) where the Jolly Rodger flew over a motorised pirate ship taking tourists round the harbour and out to sea for a half hour trip.

This ship is huge. She has an enormous anchor at which it is straining in the wind. I know I have to get on board somehow and start running along the beach hoping to find a way of getting out to her.

I suddenly hear voices shouting, and realise that I have come across the sailors. And yes, to my amazement, they appear to be genuine pirates. To my horror, one of them raises a pistol in my direction, then takes a cigarette out of his pocket and, turning out of the wind, uses the pistol to light it. I half sob, half laugh with relief.

"Come here and make yourself known to us," he shouts in my direction.

I wade through the rising tide towards him.

When I am close enough to look at the now assembled crew I see that they are a group of men and women, some younger, some not, wearing what appears to be pirates clothing. I cannot help staring and a smile crosses their faces.

"Welcome." One of the women greets me. "You have many questions I see....If you come aboard and sail with us we will attempt to answer them. We, that is ourselves and perhaps you also, are on a quest to find treasure and the wisdom of the ancients, a wisdom that might save our planet. Will you join us as we look for the key to the Dead Man's Chest?"

I nod. Dead man's chest has had bad connotations for me since performing CPR on my beloved but I am willing to relinquish that image and go and look for the key. I may not save the planet but I might save myself.

We climb into a small boat that is moored on the beach and row out to the ship. The rain has eased slightly and the tide is running fast now.

"Climb aboard my hearties," shouts a sailor high up on the deck of the ship "Tis time to set sail." He throws down a rope ladder and we start to climb.


(I have always wanted to go to sea. My late husband was in the merchant navy and always told tall sea stories, usually starring him as chief mischief maker. I hope to catch up with him whilst I am on this voyage.)

Shape Shifting Molloy's

le Enchanteur respects the Molloy's and will defer to them in her search for Dead Man's Chest and the illusive key to the chamber within the Cave of the Ancients.

The Finger of Fate

Aargh – a tale is it, the price of this quest? Hehehehehehe. Let me look about me person, and see what I can find.

Well, now, would ye look at that. Sure, I haven’t given this anny thought at all in years, yet here it is, in the lining of me coat. What is it, ye say? What does it look like?

A map? A treasure map? You’d not be wrong.

I was on the Black Hearted Trollop when I came by this map. Her captain was Desdemona O’Herlihy, as black hearted a trollop as you’ll ever meet, and pray you don’t ever meet her. She used to be a high born lady, so they say, but the call of the sea dragged her away from the estate of her father, Lord O’Herlihy, and into a life of piracy and wickedness. O a fine beauty she was, with her long black hair and flashing green eyes, but she’d give no man quarter. If you wronged her she’d hunt you down to the ends of the earth, to extract her vengeance.

The previous captain of the Black Hearted Trollop – one Gules Hart - could tell you many tales about Desdemona, if he still lived. They were lovers once – she pursued him like a woman possessed, but when she caught him dallying with a barmaid on Pirate’s Cove, didn’t she turn and set fire to his ship in the harbour, burning it away to a film of black ash on the sea? And didn’t he then have another ship built, and called it the Black Hearted Trollop in her honour?

As far as Desdemona was concerned, a ship named for her was hers by right – so she set out to take it, and make the poor man walk the plank for daring to cross her in love and piracy.

The Black Hearted Trollop was the fastest ship at sea – there was nothing that could outrun it. It had sails as black as night, and it crept up on its prey like great black bird, with not a sound. It would not be an easy task to capture a ship like that, but Desdemona never shied from a challenge – beside, she was the canniest captain on the seven seas, and the one place the Black Hearted Trollop couldn’t hide was when she put into Pirate’s Cove.

Of course, Gules Hart was no fool either and he had many cronies at Pirate’s Cove, but he didn’t have the Finger of Fate. Desdemona did, and she wore it round her neck in a little leather pouch. No one knew its power but me – you see, I stood guard as she cut it from the hand of Scurvy Alice herself as she lay in her coffin. Scurvy Alice had strange powers, ye mind – she could point her finger at a man and he would drop dead in his tracks. We don’t know whether she died by design or accident – but believing there was an enemy concealed behind a curtain in the Crown and Anchor Bar, she pointed her finger at it – then the curtain dropped and revealed a mirror.

`Tis thought the pub owner did it, being tired of Alice killing his customers.

So one morning when the Black Hearted Trollop put into port and Gules was swaggering along the doc, Desdemona took the finger out of the leather pouch and pointed it at him – and sure as I’m sitting here, he clutched at his heart and dropped dead.

And didn’t his men go white at the sight of the finger and their leader’s body and turn and run like the scurvy dogs they were? All Desdemona had to do was walk aboard the Black Hearted Trollop and take command of her. None dared stop her because of the Finger of Scurvy Alice.
Such wicked times we had – there was not a treasure ship afloat that could ward off Desdemona and the Black Hearted Trollop. But while we grew in strength and riches, something was happening to Desdemona. Something was eating into her soul – one night I caught her trying to throw the finger overboard. But it would not leave her, and she screamed in rage when she saw me.

``Back away!” she cried. ``It points now without my direction!”

I scuttled below as fast as I could and hid myself in my bunk. I dared not go near my Captain – she spent her time alone in her cabin, or in the cave where we stashed the treasure. Though she was more beautiful than ever, no man went near her because those that did all died.

Where is she now? Well, I can tell you – this is the map to the treasure of the Black Hearted Trollop and welcome ye are to it. She left it to me when she took refuge in the cave, sickened by the loneliness the Finger of Fate caused her. For all I know she’s still there – guarding the treasure she massed with the Black Hearted Trollop, Scurvy Alice’s finger making sure no one comes near enough to take it.

Never was a pirate’s treasure better guarded.

Ready For Battle

Le Enchanteur is ready to do battle with the Tygres and anyone else who stands in her way. She is determined to locate Dead Man's Chest and find the key to the Cave of the Ancients.

Haunted Cove - Facing The Molloys

"I don't like the look of this," I said to Belenus, coming to land on the shores of the
lake. The body of water had looked inviting from the air, but the moment we
touched down on the sodden banks, I was starting to feel uneasy about this
adventure. "Calm down," said Belenus, putting his glasses on
to read something he had tucked behind his ear. "Is that a map?" I said. "No,"
he said, "Put your glasses on. Wasn't it you who told me we had to see things
differently?" Belenus gave me an annoyed donkey glance, and I found my
glasses in a hurry. "Well, then, what are you reading and how are we going to
find the Dead Man's Chest? That's been missing for a long time, you know."
"It's a cheat sheet," said Belenus. My eyes opened wide, horrified. "Trust me,"
he added, smiling a donkey smile that showed his donkey teeth.

Puzzled that my donkey companion, so wisely schooled in the Classics would
stoop to cheating, I frowned. We had a few moments silence before a circle of vultures
appeared overhead. The sky grew dark. The shadowy mangroves gloomed. Hidden
creatures in the darkened trees made our skin crawl. "Signs of the dead," said
Belenus solemnly, "and we are near water, which can only mean one thing. Follow
me..." Following my donkey was easy, it was trying to see through the new glasses
that was hard. "See things in a new way," I drilled myself, trying to turn the
mangrove swamp into a fantasy island of lush ferns and soaring gums in the
morning mist. But the darkness closed in on us, and then everything was a kind
of strange eerie purple colour. A clearing ahead, revealed an ancient Victorian
house, with not a light to be seen.

"Come on", said Belenus, swishing his tail. I hurried after him, until we reached a
lamp post that was vaguely familiar. "Feels like another time, another place,"
I said. He winked back at me and said, "You are! Victorian times, to be exact."
The lamp post shed a dim light as I passed, with the help of my glasses, but the
house loomed ahead, strange purple, and unforgiving.

"Did you hear that?" I said, fumbling in the bag Enchanteur had given me, and

getting out the anchor. "To keep me steady..." I mumbled and followed Belenus

onto the old creaky verandah, through the front door, laced with cobwebs.

The noise grew louder. Sounded like singing, or wailing. "What

is it?" I asked, above the din. "A broken heart. They're like the sirens. Women

with broken hearts. Ever hear that saying, "hell hath no fury like a woman

scorned"? Now we are faced with the Molloys..." said Belenus, his voice trailing off.

He looked at his cheat sheet again with his glasses on and

started to make strange noises himself. "Don't forget what you know," said a

voice, deep and resonating in the high, dark ceilings. I shivered, but resolved not

to forget what I knew. There was a picture, like a negative photograph I somehow

knew, on the dusty floor. The wailing went on and on, until we saw them, three

ladies, forever mourning, draped in black Victoriana, and wicked, by a window. I

picked up the picture and hid it in my coat.

Belenus showed no fear. He put his cheat sheet away behind his ear, and

he started singing himself, in less a donkey's voice than a man's. The

sound was like a sailor's song, a swashbuckling tune,

round and round in circles it went. With that the wailing slowed and

the ladies disappeared into the shadows, but only for a

moment. Belenus rushed ahead, still crooning his sea song, and snatched a

small chest, carved of oak, and slung it across his back. "Quick!" he said, "Let's

fly!" I stashed the anchor away and jammed on the red shoes, got on his back,

and we flew out of the house, that stayed calm, but only until Belenus' crooning

was out of range. But then we were far above in the sky again, away from the

Victorian house, away from the past, with just what we had been missing. I

had a thousand questions, but they would have to wait until we reached safety...

copyright Monika Roleff 2006.

Got a Crew

The crew has been appointed and we are setting sail in search of Dead Man's Chest at dawn.

Becoming a Buccaneer

The call to become a Buccaneer and spend some time on a Pirate Ship has bought me to the shores of the lake where this James Coleman landscape is set. But first I have to find the Dead Man's Chest if I want to clamber on board. Ah! Now I know why my map does not show the House of the Serpents and Blind Springs. le Enchanteur clearly knew that what I would need is a map showing the whereabouts of Dead Man's Chest. Better not tell anyone I have it.