George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He had bad dreams, of towns on fire… women and children screaming and running from the flames.
George woke up in a cold sweat, shaking and trembling.
When they were about to raid a town, George would feel queasy and he’d throw up.
His hands would sweat, he’d lose his grip on his cutlass.
He studied medicine, hoping to become the ship’s surgeon, but the sight of blood made him sick.
“Avast, quiet ye scurvy dogs!” the captain hissed. “Ready the cannon for a broadsides!”
George felt sick again.