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| 'Allo. My name is Inigo Montoya ... |
The Princess Bride is one of my all-time favorite films. Like many people, my favorite character is Inigo Montoya, the revenge-seeking Spaniard swordmaster. Mandy Patinkin, who played Inigo, is, to my view, one of the greatest living actors in the world today.
I'm well into writing the second adventure now. It's great fun for me to write.
Enjoy!
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At the end of The Princess Bride, Westley says to Inigo, "You'd make a wonderful Dread Pirate Roberts!" Here are the many adventures of the new captain of the Revenge! Read on!
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Adventure One: Freeing Fezzik
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1.
The Dread Pirate Roberto
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"How do you
do?" he asked somewhat uncertainly. His Spanish accent was thick but wadeable.
"Paloni? You are Duncan Paloni?"
I nodded.
His grip tightened.
"Inigo Montoya," he said with obvious pride.
It was unnecessary,
of course, to give his name. Everybody knew it. I have sailed with this ship
going on a decade now and I've never seen the crew act like that: with visible
awe as they took in the sight of their new captain. This was the man who almost
singlehandedly brought down the corrupt Humperdinck monarchy and killed the vile
Count Rugen. Many of the Revenge's
finest had died by Rugen 's cruel tortures over
the years.
I felt a bit awed
myself. I tried to hide it. First Officers don't feel awe for their captains.
They're there to keep their captains firmly rooted to the earth—or to the deck
of the ship, as the case may be.
"You are Italian?"
he asked, still gripping my hand. By now I'd noticed his incredible sword and
struggled with that, too. I looked up into his dark gaze. He was smiling in a
very congenial way.
"I was born
there, Captain. But when I was a young boy my family moved to England ."
"Too much
tea," he said after recovering from hearing his new title. He shook his
head. "Not enough moscatel. Do you drink moscatel, Paloni?"
"I've never
tried it, sir," I admitted. In truth, I'd never even heard of it.
His smile faded,
though it did not vanish completely.
"Tonight,
then, in my cabin" he said.
He looked around, then
came close so only I could hear. "Uh … where is my cabin, exactly?"
Here's the letter I received from Westley three weeks
earlier:
Paloni:
I am writing to announce my immediate retirement as Captain of the Revenge. My replacement will be joining
you shortly. His name is Inigo Montoya, a Spaniard. He is a swordmaster of the
first caliber and a first-rate tactician. The rumors swirling about Florin about him are true: I was there when he brought
down the Humperdinck monarchy. He was our leader and captain, and his bravery
is something that will serve the Revenge
well. Like me when I first joined the Revenge
(and as I'm sure you remember, being the only one of the crew to stay on board over
the tenures of the previous four captains, including me), I had no knowledge of
ships or sailing or even proper pirating. I, however, had the advantage of
being the captain's valet for several years whilst I learned. You'll need to
school the new Dread Pirate Roberts—on-the-job training, as it were, quietly
and privately, of course—though I suspect pirating will come quite naturally to
him. Be his right-hand man, as you were for me. He has a very generous spirit; but
don't let him go too far with it, especially with the crew. He loves his drink
as well, which is also something you'll have to watch out for. The best way to
ensure his temperance is Purpose. Give that man a Purpose and the drink will be
forgotten until that Purpose is fulfilled.
Buttercup and I are to be wed in Patagonia ,
at the estate of Captain Roberts (the first one, obviously). I would have
preferred to utilize the Revenge and
her crew for such a journey, but I think it best to give Captain Montoya a
completely free hand from the off.
Provided that Captain Montoya doesn't already have other plans, I would
be pleased if the crew of the Revenge
would join us in Patagonia . You will need to
arrive by November 28; we're to be wed on the 29th. If we don't see you then we
will assume that the Revenge's new
captain is already plundering towards great wealth.
Your friendship is one I shall always cherish, Duncan. Thank you for all
you've done for me.
The very best,
Westley
At eight o’ clock I knocked on his cabin door.
"Come
in," he called out. I thought of Westley's voice, how different it was,
how I'd gotten used to it. Captain Montoya's voice was hollower but stronger,
with a natural and sonorous timbre that immediately caught my ear. He'd have no
problem getting the attention of the crew, even without yelling. Another plus.
I entered the
cabin.
He sat on a small
couch that, as I recall, Captain Westley never touched, a wine glass of
amber-colored liquor in his hand. The English oak desk at the back and downy bunk
to the side were unmolested save for the presence of his sword and sword belt,
which lay on the bunk. I looked back at him.
"The bottle
and glasses are in the cabinet." He motioned with his glass hand.
I opened the armoire.
The moscatel came in a fine green bottle sitting alone on the top shelf. I
recalled that he hadn't brought much with him when he boarded; the drink made
up probably a third of his duffel bag. I reached for the bottle, poured myself
a small amount, closed the armoire and turned to face my new superior.
"To the
future," he said, lifting his glass. I could hear the doubt in his voice.
I wasn't going to
have to hold this captain to the deck; not initially, at least. I was going to
have to teach him how to walk first.
I lifted my glass.
"To our future, Captain."
I took a sip of the
moscatel. It was wine, sweet and fruity, with a very pleasant aftertaste. My delight
must've been obvious.
"I told
you," he said with an approving glint in his eye. He took another drink,
as did I.
"Sit, Paloni,
sit." He motioned towards a chair.
I sat.
Being First Mate
aboard a seagoing vessel can be a very tough job. I'd like to feel that I have
weathered enough storms and battles and on-board politics to be an expert. But
at that moment, sitting there with my new captain, I felt like a rank beginner.
I didn't know what to say. I chanced a bold guess.
"There's
something you've left behind, Captain."
He lowered his
glass. "Come again?" he asked quietly.
"I don't
presume to read minds," I said quickly, misinterpreting his look, which
seemed to flash impertinence. "Forgive me—"
"All my
belongings are here," he said with just a hint of defensiveness. "I
didn't forget anything …"
"I wasn't
talking about material possessions," I said. I held up my hand. "Again,
Captain, forgive my presumption."
"Material—?
Ah." He got it. He took another sip. "Yes, I suppose I did."
"May I ask her
name, Captain?"
He grinned. But the
grin lasted only a second or two. "Not a woman," he said.
I blinked.
I wasn't about to
ask, and it didn't matter in any event. After all, Captain Cummerbund wore a
pink feather in his hat and ate with a pinkie finger sticking out, but no man
dared poke fun at him. The single foolish sailor who did found himself floating
shortly afterward in four separate oceans. Assumptions don't make an "ass
of u and me"—on a pirate ship they make you a dead man. In any event, I
didn't have time to form one, as this captain said:
"My best
friend, Fezzik. He's been taken prisoner at Harshtree. I fear for his
life."
I remembered the
name. "Fezzik?" I said vacantly. "I recall the stories. Wasn't
he with you when you stormed the Humperdinck
Castle
Captain Montoya
nodded.
"A giant,
right?"
"And a
marvelous poet. He carried Westley's—" he caught himself—"Captain Westley's—body to Miracle Max's
after Rugen killed him."
"Is it true he
carried you and two others up the Cliffs of Insanity?"
He nodded again and
took another sip. He didn't elaborate.
"Wow …" I said breathlessly.
"Forgive me, Captain, but that's hard to believe."
"I know,"
he said. "It is. And now he's a prisoner where few prisoners ever again see
the light of day."
"How do you
suppose he was taken? It must've taken an army!"
"Not an
army," he said. He leaned forward. "You see, Paloni, Fezzik has a
weakness." He held up a finger. "A single weakness. The men who
subdued him must have known about it and exploited it."
"What is
it?" I asked, fascinated.
He grasped his
neck. "His windpipe. It is weak. A birth defect, most likely.... Fezzik never
talked about it, and told me only after he'd drank a barrel of mead. Someone
must have overheard him."
"Someone who
wanted to take him prisoner? Who would want to do that?"
He shook his head
and leaned back. He appeared tortured, worried beyond the capacity to contain
it.
The solution was
obvious, of course.
"So … if I may
recapitulate," I began, "your best friend Fezzik has been taken
prisoner for unknown reasons and resides now at Harshtree."
He nodded. He
seemed genuinely oblivious to his new station, as though it were merely a ceremonial
one and that he'd be leaving the Revenge
in the morning. I knew then why the cabin had been for all intents and purposes
untouched since he'd boarded.
"Harshtree is
just a couple miles in from Dredskull Point," I casually pointed out,
taking another sip. "Two days' sail time, three through stormy weather."
He nodded thoughtfully
and waited for me to continue. He really didn't realize it. And it was right then
that I knew he was going to make the Revenge’s
finest captain. There were endless possibilities in that blank stare, all
backed up with wicked steel and a towering sense of Spanish nobility that I'd
intuited instantly upon his arrival.
That said, I'd have
to spell it out for him.
"Your crew is
assembled and ready, twenty-four of us total. We are the Revenge, feared all over the world. The Revenge, sir! And we are at your
command. Isn't the warden of Harshtree one of Rugen 's
rich friends?"
He'd figured it out
halfway through my speech. I watched a glitter sparkle to life in his eyes, and
a slow, hesitant smile form on his lips. He put the moscatel on the side table
next to the sofa's armrest, turned back to look at me, and leaned forward.
"Can we
succeed?"
"Like I said, sir,
we're the Revenge. Success is all we
do." I smiled. "You required only yourself, Captain Westley, and
Fezzik to overthrow an entire kingdom."
I waited for that
to sink in before asking, "Your orders, sir?"
I love being First
Mate of this ship.
"We set sail
for Harshtree in the morning," he declared. "And I will get my Fezzik
back."
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