Pony Treasure Island

Black Crow Appears and Disappears

The morning sun shone high over the Admiral Benbow, as Applebloom descended down the stairs to begin the day. Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and Starlight were still asleep. Before her mother fell ill, she’d entrusted Applebloom to take care of the Inn, even without the aid of her friends. So, as the yellow filly wiped down the counter of the bar, the door swung open. Standing in the doorway was a large crow. Dressed in black with a jaunty tri-corner hat on his head and a cutlass at his side, his black eyes darted here and there as he took in the sight of the quaint little Inn.

“Good mornin’, Sir. What can I get ya?” Applebloom greeted, not forgetting her manners even in the presence of this intimidating stranger. The crow chuckled, as he set his eyes on the filly.

“Cider, lassie. Cider’ll do fine,” he said, his voice gravelly and weathered. Applebloom nodded, pulling out the cider and pouring the crow a glass. He smiled, and downed it in one shot. “This be a quaint little grog house. Who’s the owner?”

“Well, Starlight Glimmer runs it, Sir, but it’s owned by my mother,” Applebloom said, as the crow threw a silver bit onto the counter.

“Ah. Where be your mother, lass?” the crow asked.

“Upstairs, Sir. She’s taken sick. Cockatrice,” the filly said sadly. The crow frowned, his face displaying remorse.

“Oh, what a pity. Many an honest sailor I know to have succumbed to the illness of a Cockatrice. It be a sorry plight.” Reaching into his large black coat, the crow extracted a satchel. Applebloom could see a flintlock pistol tucked into his belt, and she noticed two of his feathers were missing from his left wing. “Here. Give this to yer mother with ‘er bread and water tonight and she’ll be right as rain come mornin’. A gift for services rendered,” the crow said with a smile. Applebloom was a bit skeptical, but took the gift, which she saw to be a colored powder, anyway. The crow smiled as Applebloom refilled his glass. “Any other seafarin’ creatures come through here, my lass?”

“No, Sir. None get this far,” Applebloom said.

“Not even a parrot by the name of Boyle?” the crow inquired, downing the cider again.

“The Cap’n?” Applebloom asked, receiving a hearty laugh from the crow.

“Boyle would fix himself up as Cap’n,” he said under his breath. “Aye, me dear! The very same! Is the Cap’n here?”

“No, Sir. He’s out for a walk,” Applebloom said.

“Will he be back soon?” the crow asked.

“Most likely, Sir,” Applebloom replied.

“What be yer name, me dear?”

“Applebloom, Sir.”

“Applebloom, is it? A proper seafarin’ name, that is. Were yer mother a seafarin’ mare, lass?”

“Yes, Sir. Mother sailed to Manehatten as a cabin filly and came back first mate,” the yellow filly said proudly. The crow laughed again, deep and hearty.

“Ah! A fine tale, that be. Tell me, Applebloom, didst ya never imagine a life on the sea?” the crow asked.

Applebloom smiled. “I have imagined it, Sir, aye. I’ve always imagined signin’ on to the first ship I could find and livin’ a life of adventure.”

“And what a life ye’d have. Why, I can imagine it now. Ye’d be at the helm of a great ship, the crew scrambling to obey yer orders, as they call out yer name. ‘Captain Applebloom!’ Har har!” the crow cackled. Applebloom laughed with him as the door swung open and Boyle stood in the doorway.

“Ahoy, Cap’n,” Applebloom called.

“Boyle, me friend! Good ta see ya, you old buzzard!” the crow laughed.

“Black Crow,” Boyle growled, his cutlass coming out in an instant. Black Crow stood up, his wings up in peace, as the parrot slowly encroached.

“Ease your steel, Boyle. There be no need for violence. I’ve been merely sitting her getting to know this young filly who I’ve taken quite a shine to. Sheathe your blade and let us sit down as two old shipmates over a drink. Applebloom! Some cider for me and me mate, lass!” he said. Boyle looked from Black Crow to Applebloom, before sheathing his sword. Pulling up a chair, he nodded at Applebloom.

“Cider, Applebloom,” he said, in agreement with Black Crow. The bird in question sat at the table set up for Boyle in the dining room. Angled so that one eye was on his old shipmate and the other on the door, if he needed to beat a hasty retreat. Applebloom came over with the bottle of cider, pouring two glasses for the seabirds.

“Leave the bottle, lassie and give me and me old shipmate some time alone,” Black Crow said. Applebloom looked to Boyle, who nodded.

“Do as he says, Applebloom,” he grumbled, his eyes never leaving Black Crow. Applebloom nodded, leaving the bottle of cider on the table, before rushing upstairs to the room she shared with her two friends. The last thing she heard was Black Crow’s voice.

“A fine lass, she is, Boyle.”

~~~~~~********~~~~~~

“Girls! Girls, wake up!” Applebloom squealed to her friends. “Scoots! Sweetie! Come on, wake up! There’s a bird downstairs!” she said.

Scootaloo opened one eye and grumbled. “We know, Applebloom. We’ve all met him. It’s Captain Boyle,” the orange Pegasus mumbled.

“No, Scoot! It’s ANOTHER bird! They’re a shipmate of the Captain!”

Sitting up instantly, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo gasped. “Another seafaring bird?” they both asked in astonishment. Applebloom nodded, motioning her head to the door. The three fillies snuck to the top of the stairs, as the conversation between the two birds became heated.

“NO! NO, NO, NO, by thunder! It’s all owed to me, by rights and I’ll not share a bit! Not with you, certainly not with that blighted three-legged mare, no creature! Ya hear me?!” Boyle bellowed. Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo looked at each other. What was owed to the Captain? The ring of a sword being loosed from it’s sheathe came next, as Black Crow growled.

“By rights it be owed to all o’ us, Boyle!” Another ring of steel, as a second sword was drawn!

“Shove off, you scallawag, before I skewers you on me cutlass!” Boyle snarled. A roar from Black Crow came and the three fillies heard the clashing of steel as the two fought. A table broke, a bottle was broken, then more steel clashing. Finally, Black Crow let out a cry of pain as he rushed for the door. Applebloom could see a wound in his right wing, as he took off down the path, Boyle following him in a rage, his sword still drawn! The three fillies rushed downstairs, seeing the dining room in tatters, as the Captain hobbled back, slamming the door shut. The table Boyle would sit at was broken in two, the bottle of cider smashed to pieces and a few drops of blood was on the stone floor.

“Cap’n! Are you alright?” Applebloom asked! Boyle said nothing, merely thumping up the stairs to his room, growling and huffing and puffing. He took one glance into his room, at the old wooden sea-chest next to his bed, then he took a deep breath and looked to the three fillies.

“Applebloom, I’m giving you and your friends a task. If Black Crow is here, the three-legged mare ain’t far behind. I want the three of ye ta promise me that ye’ll keep yer weather eyes open for her. I know I’ve always told ya to look out for her before, but that was merely when it was a possibility. Now, it’s a certainty,” he said. Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo gulped, but they nodded to the Captain. Boyle took one step, then collapsed, falling down the stairs.

“Cap’n!!” Applebloom screamed, as she and her two friends rushed to check on the parrot. “Sweetie, Scoot, get a chair for him. Cap’n, can you hear me?” she asked. Boyle grumbled in response, as Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo helped him into an intact chair.

“Cider, Applebloom. Give me cider,” Boyle mumbled. Applebloom frowned.

“Cap’n, you need a doctor! You’re hurt after whatever Black Crow did to ya.”

“Bah! Hang all doctors!” Boyle growled. “Cider!” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo sighed.

“Applebloom, go get the doctor. We’ll handle the Captain,” they said. Applebloom nodded and, as fast as her legs could carry her, rushed to the doctor’s practice.