Rise of the Isle of the Lost (Descendants 3)

“Th-th-thank you!” said the young La Foux. “Thank you, Gil!”

Gil flexed so that he made two guns with his arms and pretended to kiss each one.

Two witches sitting nearby audibly swooned.

Gil swaggered over to his table, satisfied, and ordered another round of bilge. Life was good when you were the strongest man on the island. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the smartest guy on the Isle of the Lost, but it wasn’t the worst way to live.

No matter, Gil had girls to impress and feats of strength to display. He finished his meal, thinking the scum chowder was not as moldy as usual, and looked around for more entertainment.

“Who wants to see me balance the table on my head again?” he asked, lifting the heavy oak table and setting it upon his noggin. But when he turned around, the room, which had been filled with noisy revelers just a moment before, was empty.

“Where’d everyone go?” he asked, irritated.

“To watch the race,” huffed the cook, pointing out the window and toward the docks.

Gil let the table down with a bang and headed toward the commotion. All week there had been talk about this race. A real pirate race, with a real pirate prize. The harbor was full of onlookers, pirates cheering each other on, and bets placed on who would come in first. Gil sauntered over to the front to watch the action, pushing people out of the way.

“Who’s in the lead?” he asked.

“Harry,” said one.

“Uma,” said another.

Gil squinted at the horizon, where an assortment of vessels, from homemade rafts made of recovered planks with sheets for sails to a little goblin motorboat, were cresting over by Evil Queen’s house. They raced toward the finish line by Dead Man’s Cove in Hook’s Bay, gaily decorated with old shoes and cans. There was a roar from the crowd as one pulled forward ahead of the rest, a turquoise-haired sailor raising her fist in glory as she crossed the finish line in victorious fashion.

Shrimpy? wondered Gil. Where’d she get that goblin boat?

“Uma! Uma! Uma!” chanted the crowd, as Uma docked her boat and stepped up to the platform.

Uma made rude gestures to the crowd to indicate her pleasure. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, everyone,” she said into the microphone. “And I’d like to introduce you all to Harry Hook, my first mate!”

She brought Harry up to stand next to her. “Just like I promised, here’s your hook back,” she said, handing it to him.

Harry, who’d looked glum and defeated just a moment ago, lit up with a huge grin. “My hook!” he said, waving it in the air.

Smee handed Uma the keys to the pirate ship that was docked right behind them, and Harry and Uma happily climbed aboard.

Gil marveled at the thought of winning a real pirate ship, kitted out with a Jolly Roger flag and everything. Too bad it wasn’t a wrestling match, or he’d have entered the competition for sure.

Harry and Uma waved from the top deck of their brand-new (actually old, shabby, and holey) pirate ship.

Gil felt a pang at being down at the docks while they were up on the ship’s decks. They’d all been inseparable once, he and Harry and Uma. When they were kids, he and Harry used to follow Uma around, doing her bidding. They’d been part of a gang, but over the years Gil had drifted away from them somehow.

He melted back into the crowd and went back to showing off at the fish shop, impressing the ladies and challenging anyone to a fight. But beating his enemies in arm-wrestling matches and bullying La Foux Doux only went so far.

So when someone mentioned that Shrimpy—sorry, Uma, he had to remember she went by Uma now, duh—and Harry Hook were looking for a few good mates for their pirate crew, Gil decided to meet up with his old not-quite-friends.

“Heard you’re looking for muscle,” he said, his white teeth gleaming, as he swaggered up to Harry and Uma a few minutes later. He pulled up his shirtsleeves. “You’re in luck, as I’ve got some to spare.”

“Yes, we are,” said Harry with a grin. “Welcome to my crew.”

“My crew,” said Uma, patting Gil on the back. “Now get with the others.”

Gil climbed aboard the pirate ship, excited to find it was already filled with villains like him. Pirates, ruffians, rogues, all seeking adventure, and it looked like they’d found it.

After the last tourney game ended, Jay marched back with the team toward the lockers to change, but noticed that half the guys went straight into another practice, trading helmets for face masks and carrying practice swords.

“R.O.A.R. tryouts,” explained Aziz, Aladdin and Jasmine’s oldest son. “You coming?” he said, tapping Jay lightly on the arm with his sword.