It was all a bunch of jumbled garbage. Some recollection was necessary.

Second trip to Grand Line in his entire life, this time as a member of Revolutionary army. Excitement. Worry. Rocking sleeping quarters, with an equally rocking bed. Loud noises. Pain. Silence.

"...and one hell of a headache" Yeah, it was all coming back to him now; not the actual events, but enough information that one could connect the dots. A shipwreck, plain and simple. It was the second time that his trip had been cut short, starting to make him think that there might be a curse at work here. But he didn't dwell on it, didn't have the time. Rookwood stood up on one knee as he held is head, carefully, as if he was worried that it might lob right off of his shoulders should he be too careless about. He looked around.

First conclusion was that he might have actually been the lucky one. The other two who had been sleeping with him didn't appear to be breathing, and a closer inspection confirmed this. This left three others who who were nowhere to be seen or heard (it wasn't a a big ship, checking wasn't hard). Rookwood stumbled his way to the deck to get the hang of the situation at hand.

He crossed out Mr. Navigator off of his mental list of survivors, as he made his way past his corpse on the stairs.

Second conclusion was that it might have been a proper shipwreck this time. An empty beach, surrounded by exotic woods, with no civilization to be seen. In an ideal world they would have sailed right by it due to their captain's eternal log pose, but with the captain missing and the ship in pieces it didn't seem like an option anymore. Although...

Rookwood glanced back at a body on the stairs. A sad state of affairs, especially for Mr. Navi... no, for Gilfred, yet Rookwood didn't feel much shame thinking how wonderful it was that his log pose was seemingly unharmed.
He would bury their bodies. It was the only decent thing to do. But so did he have to live on. This was what he reasoned within his mind as he undid the strap and made it his own.

With no more traces of the last two on the outside (bodies, footprints... anything, really), Rookwood shambled back below the deck. He'd take what he could, of the things that were needed, and he'd then head out and see what he could do. Maybe a boat could pass by. Maybe he could make a raft. Y'know, work it all out somehow.

There was some food and some water that Rookwood could take with him for his initial expedition. He left the proper cargo alone, figuring to leave them be until he could devise a way out of here.

CAWWWWWW

Rookwood threw himself at the floor more from instinct than anything else. It sounded like a bird. It couldn't see inside the ship unless it went looking. It was probably harmless. He started to get up.

"Hush Geesix!"

Another face-floor contact. It didn't feel good on his body.

"Right, so another person". Probably a pirate, he thought. Revolutionaries had no business here, marines even less. Some civilians might have been crazy enough, but highly unlikely. It was a high-risk to approach, but it was the only approach available, so Rookwood simply took a moment to collect himself and slowly walked out. He tried to appear in better shape, braver, than he was.

The "bird" took him by surprise and almost made him back down the ladder, but he kept his composure. He peeked out of the stairway, leaning on the inner wall as he turned to face the supposed owner of the "bird".

"Ahoy there!" he started as he waved. "Care to lend the old man a hand?"

"The usual", Rookwood started as he accepted the hand the lad was offering and carefully stepped down onto the beach. "Grand Line's a treacherous place. I guess we got too careless". He turned his head towards the wreck. Somehow the damage looked much worse from the outside, in this early twilight. Or late, as Rookwood figured that he might have been knocked out for quite some time. Regardless, no sunlight.

He moved his gaze upwards to look up at the only notable thing up there, that being the "bird". It had been hovering in place for quite some time. He felt like it was looking at him.

"Sorry about my...dragon. I'm the first human she's ever known, she's loyal to me so forgive her for taunting you."

"A dragon, eh?" Rookwood looked at the creature a bit longer. He felt differently about the flying lizard, but he figured that the lad wasn't entirely wrong: anything sufficiently extraordinary could be seen as something wondrous. "Don't worry, I don't mind as long as barking is all she's doing, Mr. Dragonrider". He turned to face the man again to inspect him a bit better. A spry young man with adventurous spirit. Surely a pirate, if only the kind that was in it for the adventure. And a smart one too, as his eyes were doing the same. But distrust was not needed, not in a moment like this.
It seemed that proper introductions were in order. Rookwood extended his hand once again.

"The name's Jonathan D. Rookwood", he said as he extended his hand once more towards the lad. It was said with confidence, confidence which surged from Rookwood's knowledge of his own place in the world. It was unlikely that he knew the name. "And what might bring my savior to a place such as this one?"

"Sebastian Saint..." Something about the name seemed familiar, but Rookwood's thoughts were cut short by the "bird's" approach. It's not like he was scared of it or anything like that...
Okay, maybe he was feeling a little unnerved by a dinosaur coming up to him and sniffing him, that much he had to admit. He didn't panic, but he did keep a careful eye on the creature and shuffled in place a bit when its beak got too close. It's not like he had met a creature like that before, despite what some of his writings back in the day may have claimed.

As this was happening, Rookwood got a proper explanation of the lad's story. It helped with the earlier question of the name's familiarity; wasn't one of the admiral's have the name Saint?
Yes, Howard D. Saint, Rookwood remembered now. In which case this boy was probably his son. "Probably not a pirate then", Rookwood thought. Then again, who know what kind of rebellious phases kids have these days?

"I'm leaving this island, you're welcome to come if you need a lift. I'd feel horrible for leaving a helpless old man on a dinosaur infested island to die..."

"...huh", was the noise that involuntarily left the old man's mouth. It seemed that Rookwood's jest was more real than he had initially thought. But it's not like he was unnerved by the prospect or anything like that...
Fine, he was scared. It was very new, very sudden, and potentially very dangerous as well. Exciting too in a sense, thought that feeling was buried deep beneath the others. But it was a way out of here, and that was all that mattered.

Except...

Rookwood sighed and tipped his hat to the man. "I appreciate the offer, I really do. But unfortunately I have to give my former crew their due, and discover what happened to the rest". He turned around and started to make his way towards the ship, ignoring the distant rumbling which he only assumed to be the remnants of the earlier storm somewhere in the distance. "I can't ask for you to prolong your stay for my personal reasons. Do what you must". Part of Rookwood felt like smacking himself for saying all that. But, as it should always be, it felt like a decision that he could live with.

Rookwood stopped on his tracks to listen what the boy had to say. His crew was dead; this he already knew, and even then there were still some missing. He couldn't do anything for his crew anymore; that was obviously false, but the brat must not have realized that. And yet he was the one lecturing Rookwood. How rich.

"Leave with me, or you'll die here."

"That's it" Rookwood grit his teeth for an instant, but quickly turned around to face the kid with an irritated look. He pointed his finger at him confrontationally. "Now listen...!"

*rumble*

He stopped mid-sentence and froze in his pose as he took a quick moment to assess the situation. This rumble definitely wasn't from a storm: he could feel it under his feet. The sounds of flocks of birds flying reached his ears.
Wasn't Little Garden a volcanic island?
Hadn't there been odd spots of rocky terrain here and there on this very beach?
Wasn't there a mountain of some kind nearby?

Rookwood's face hadn't lost its stern look. He had kept his composure the whole brief amount of time he spent assessing the situation, as if ready to continue his rant as soon as he felt comfortable to do so. He inhaled deeply, and continued.

"Stay there." And he was off. The moment he turned around was the moment he had already taken his first running step. Rookwood dashed to the wrecked ship, jumped and made his way into the stairway in practically one motion, avoided tripping on Gilfred and started rummaging through the jumbled garbage in lighting speed. It wasn't much, but he found two of the books that had been part of their cargo, their task at hand. He stuffed them in his bag and fumbled his way outside, hoping that this would be enough. The others were (probably) done for, but at least he could carry on with their mission alone. For their sake. And his own.

"Ready to go, boy!" he yelled as soon as his neck was out of the stairway. He slid down the tilted deck, barely avoiding falling face-first onto the beach and sped straight towards the boy and his dinosaur. He could almost feel the sprain he would get from all this. Nevertheless, he would be ready to get on their ride as soon as he got there.

Rookwood hopped on as soon as the dinosaur lowered its back, flatly ignoring the lad's request. He did catch the one about a favor. That'd be a problem.

"Bam!"

He held onto Sebastian with one hand and his own hat with the other as they launched up in the air. He had never flown before either. Rookwood was unsure of exactly how fast they were going, but it certainly felt faster than any ship he had been on. He took a look at the beach behind them.

The masses of molten rock illuminated the beach. The mix of bright orange and gray in the setting evening was quite striking. Rookwood felt like he could write something about that. Shame about the forest though...
Dear lord they were going fast (or it certainly felt that way, what with seeing the ground moving). And the bird didn't even seem fully grown yet. Owning a tamed dinosaur seemed like a dangerous prospect, especially in the hands of a marine. Dangerous, yet admirable. Rookwood made a small mental note about having to check up on this kid's antics every now and then.

Feeling like he had stared at the island enough, he turned around to face Sebastian's back. He had to clarify some things sooner before later. "So, any chance we'll be stopping by Island of Dreams? That's where we were heading"

Rookwood was surprised by the sudden stop and tried to look ahead for the cause. There was seemingly nothing, at least not until the duo heard voices from below. Cries of help, yelled by familiar voices. "The others!" Rookwood realized to look down at the beach, where he could (despite of distance and light conditions) make out two shapes. Mr. Captain and Mr. Boatswain had found their way back to the boat more or less right after they had taken off. Just a few moments more and the two would have been stranded on the island all by themselves. Although...
"These your homies?"
"Yes. I told you that some were missing!" He finished his thought before continuing on.
Rookwood had quickly come to realize that the bird might not be able to support them all. Scratch that, it definitely could not. Which meant... that another plan would be made. Rookwood almost felt guilty about being annoyed that the situation was made less clear-cut than it had been few moments ago. Still...
"We need to help them, you know?" It was less of a question and more of a statement, and he was certain that the boy would realize that. Not that he was worried about that, since as bad as the World Government would get, there were still plenty of honest hard-working marines out there who wouldn't turn their back on a helpless civilian. And if a (supposed) son of a bloody admiral wasn't a man like that, then Rookwood wouldn't know what to believe in.

One'd think that a massive beast would be easier to notice before it's too late. But right now, everyone who had witnessed the sudden attack would be reluctant to agree. The trees shook, the beast appeared, the man was eaten, all too fast for anyone to really do anything about it. The other sailor remained unharmed by a whim, as the beast seemed to have quickly lost interested, making its way back towards the forest. It was not unlike the burst of lava mere moments ago. Surely there was nothing that could have been done.

Rookwood managed to stop himself from protesting as they started to descend, from asking why they would be going back to the danger zone. But it was obvious why: the other person was still alive. He was cowering by the side of the ship, too scared to think and most likely dumbfounded by what had just happened. Of course they'd have to help him, Rookwood had said so himself. "Must be the altitude..."
They landed back on the beach. The boy was quick to get off, almost seeming excited for some reason, whereas Rookwood gathered his bearings for a little moment before doing so himself. He had a little reunion with the survivor (Melvin?), calming him down and adding a few things under his breath as the lad seemed distracted; who the boy was, what Rookwood had taken, that they'd pretend. He couldn't be too sure of how much got through, being that the man (Michael?) was obviously still shaken. But he did calm down, and Rookwood patted him on the shoulder as he did. "It'll be fine, I promise ya".

"Are you okay there?" he quickly quipped over his shoulder at the lad, having noticed that he was being a bit too distracted by... whatever it was.