The shipwreck was catastrophic -- the kind where the powder magazines fireballed into the sky. Wood and masts and sails and all that turned into a bunch of toothpicks even Dennis Hoffman couldn't count.
Only Dark James Jameson survived, catapulted as he was from the plank he'd been stumping down as he crossed himself and wished the darling world goodbye. He landed in the evian blue water with a sploosh, swam about in a silent camera shot and bobbed to the surface for a breath -- upside down. His leg was the only bouyant bit about him.
He hung upside down in the water, his golden chains and revolver and large skull weighing him down. A few machinations and watery curses and he grabbed ahold of his own leg.
He lifted his head above the water and gasped for air. Balancing himself out with deep gasps, he looked around. A small atol beckoned him from a hundred yards away. He was on the current towards it -- all he'd have to do is wait.
He surveyed his surroundings further. His wooden leg floated before him, solid and woodenish. A bird flew along the waves, circled him and alighted on his wooden leg. A ruby headed woodpecker. And it began to peck.