Originally published Saturday, January 25, 1997

By JON HAHN  
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER COLUMNIST

MAURY ISLAND -- If you listen carefully on the wind, once school lets out for the summer, you can hear the loosely disciplined voices bouncing off the madrona trees somewhere near the Point Robinson lighthouse:

"Some people think pirates are nasty.
Some people think pirates are mean.
But I'm here to tell you
Quite plainly, quite truly,
That pirates are just in-between!
Ya Ha!"

Aye, these are the 6- to 12-year-old, wooden-sword-wielding, boy and girl ragamuffins who attend Dragonfire Pirate Camp from June to August. It be sorta secret, this here day camp, which doesn't advertise and still must turn away pirate wannabes.

Thar be no neatly pressed camp director with a shiny whistle on his neck here in the dense undergrowth. Nay, thar be only Cap'n Jim, Sir, and his cohort Cap'n Jackie, Sir. And a handful of young-adult sidekicks.

In real life -- when they have to deal with the outside world, such as running their Neptune Furniture business at the Pike Place Market -- they be Jim and Jackie Chobot. But at home on Maury, where Mount Rainier fills their living-room window, they be more and more pirate captains. All right, co-captains.

"We tried a couple of years ago to quit, or at least raise the cost (about $140 in real money) and cut back the enrollment, and all that seemed to do was increase the demand. What started as a simple little Dragonfire summer crafts program now has ballooned into eight weeks of Pirate Camp with 20 kids each week and more on the waiting list!" exclaimed Cap'n Jim, whose longish dark hair, considerable stature and girth, and earring make him look the part.

His two children, Ben and Katie, are among the several handpicked young adults helping oversee the weekly crews whose moms and dads drop them off Monday-through-Thursday mornings at the end of the rutted gravel road. On the first afternoon's pickup, parents discover that young pirates all must wear outrageous caps and hats, pirate sashes and raggedy clothes.

"We tell them all to wear clothes you'll never again want, and on the first day, we cut off all buttons and designer labels and we cut holes in all their pockets 'so you won't go stealing pirate treasure,'" Cap'n Jim explains.

"This whole thing is an outdoor adventure" confined to a 1-acre wooded lot with a pirate camp that would've done Blackbeard himself proud. Every day, young pirates circulate to a different group, including pirate cooks, lookouts, fire-tenders and carnival operators.

Colored poker chips are earned for various tasks, including reciting tongue-twisters, or selecting which pirate chicken will grab the grape lobbed into the pen. And chips are turned in at Cap'n Jim, Sir's Pirate Store on the final day of the fantasy voyage. "We spend all year, it seems, shopping for items for that store and other camp activities," said Cap'n Jackie, who married the big fellow a decade ago.

"And we have a standing offer: If any 'pirate' shows up at our booth in the Pike Place Market and can sing all three verses of the Pirate Song, with the appropriate hand gestures, I will give him or her a real $1 bill," said Cap'n Jim.

There are projects every day, including making a dagger or sword, or building a raft big enough to hold 20 young pirates in shallow water. Or digging in the secret Pirate Mine, which is "seeded" nightly with trinkets and treasure items such as old coins, chains and sparkly stuff.

"You've gotta realize that I'm just a big kid who plays with matches!" quipped Jim as we threaded our way through the storm-damaged pirate campgrounds that resembled a movie set for "Lord of the Flies."

Not only do his young pirates get to build and tend a daily fire, but they also learn how to cook, serve and eat a daily Pirate Feast. "Everyone -- and there are no exceptions -- must eat at least part of his or her salad!" Cap'n Jim says sternly. There's no skull or bones about who rules this camp. "We tell them we're like the king and queen, but there are no sea-goin' lawyers at Pirate Camp. Our word is final," he said.

After salad, there is hot soup, usually "Gull Noodle . . . with no feathers," and pizza or hot homemade rolls or breads, a main course and trimmings.

If a young boy or girl pirate chooses not to participate in a daily project, he's allowed to help the older pirates and counselor-type pirates with regular camp maintenance projects. And some seem to love that more than the planned fun activities.

Many return to the scene of this highly irregular fun, year after year. But if you're wanting to know how to find the secret Pirate Camp, call the Captains Chobot at (206) 463-3944.

Jon Hahn is a staff columnist who writes three times a week in the P-I.