Sea Legs, Chapter Two

By Jillian Prueitt

What a life it is to live on a ship.

Excitement always ran hot in my blood while on the sea no matter what I did; be it just helping other crew members or watching the plentiful islands slink by was enough to fill me with joy. I was made the cook, as they had lost their own to illness a couple weeks prior. Thankfully, I enjoyed cooking greatly, and was able to make good enough food for my crewmates and Captain.

I would certainly say that my Captain was a curious sort, as he questioned me any and every time that I happened upon him. To be truthful, he was rather odd in general. He was dubbed ‘Captain Dead Hand’ by the navy and fellow pirates, as he could bring death upon someone by the simple flick of his wrist (or of some such like that). He always spoke of ghosts and black magicks, and while I was always a rather superstitious sort, I hardly believed everything that tumbled from his mouth. He spoke of a great speckled beast that dwelt in the ocean, a kracken of sorts, that he could command at will (supposedly). He mentioned men who could transform into birds on more than one occasion, and even told the name of one. He also talked of the dead often, and how you must respect the departed, else you should suffer for eternity. Out of all the things he spoke of, though, he mostly talked about ghosts and spirits. Occasionally, before the crew turned in for the night, we would collect on the deck and my Captain would weave horrific stories of beasts made of reanimated flesh, and spirits who were filled with malice and hate. Quite often I would not sleep very well on those nights, plagued by the tales he so masterfully weaved. It would be quite some time before I was able to find the reason behind all his fanatical ramblings.

I also came to find that the First Mate was his brother. It did make sense, though, as they were far closer than anyone on the ship. Matthew and Gabriel always were very friendly to one another, but they bickered horribly at any given moment. It took absolutely nothing to get them quarreling, why, at one point, they fought for an entire day over a misplaced quill, which was later found to be stuck in the captain’s hat. However, all of their senseless bickering and spats could never compare to Benjamin’s quarrels.

Allow me to ramble a little about Benjamin in all of his horrendous entirety. He was our guide, and looked to the stars to help steer our course. He was very skilled with maps and numbers, but not with people. Benjamin was the entity of hatred and cruelty, and treated me with very little kindness. He was a despicable man who would have spat in my face on several occasions had it not been against the rules. He was deathly thin, and his face was constantly flushed with red as his skin seemed too thin to properly conceal the blood that pumped underneath it. His hair was as white as the sand on the beaches, and as thin as paper. His eyes were the worst of him, though, for they were full of the most loathing I had ever seen to this day and as deep blue as the icy oceans of the north. Apparently he had run away from the British Navy and became a pirate, for his love of the sea consumed him, but the cruelty of the Navy frightened him. He was cold and full of rage at every given moment. I hated him, and him me.

Everyone on the ship would have gladly thrown him overboard if you asked them, except for Matthew. For some reason he held a fondness for Benjamin, and was always treated with respect by the spineless coward. For the longest time I was convinced that Benjamin was secretly planning a mutiny, that he was waiting and biding his time till the Captain was at his weakest. I was proved wrong, of course, but I nevertheless I had my assumptions.

After nearly a week of being glowered at, Benjamin finally approached me to assault me with insults. Harsh words spewed from his mouth as he told me the only reason I was recruited was because the captain pitied me, and that I would only be seen as a slave till the day I died. He also said that the food I prepared was horrendous, and that I should try harder, else he’ll have me personally marooned. I made sure to put less spice on his portion of meats afterwards.

He and I shared very few conversations, as I very rarely replied to his snobbish lectures, nor his insults. I believed that after a while of simply ignoring him he had decided to leave me be, but I was to find out later that he had been filling my Captain's ear with all sorts of wretched nonsense about me, instead of simply approaching me. It would be that, later, my Captain would grow so tired of his rudeness toward me that he told him to stop. Thankfully, I did not have to deal with more than his glares. I was still sure to put less spice on his food, though.

It was about that time that I began to see very odd and strange things aboard the ship. One time, as I was watching the ocean in my spare moments, I saw a black shadow of awesome size slink through the water. I thought it to be a whale, but it was much too big, too enormous to be one. The shadow seemed to extend for miles, and I was overcome with terror as a portion of its slick, teal back breached the water. None of my crew members believed me when I told of what I saw. Another time as I was alone preparing dinner for everyone, someone called to me. It was a quiet voice that I had never heard hence, and I assumed it may be a crew member I haven’t spoken to before. I held a conversation with this voice while I was busy with my work, but when I looked up to look at them, no one was there. For days on end I saw shadows of people at the edge of my vision, but every time I turned to look, there was nothing. I did manage to tell my dear captain about these occurrences, and he only gave a short laugh and walked away.

Later on one night, though, as I dwelt on the deck with nothing but the stars to illuminate my sight, and the gentle sounds of the waves lapping against the hull to fill my ears, he approached me.

“You said you saw figures?” he asked from the darkness, coming to my side.

He startled me by speaking up, but after I collected my wits I was able to reply. “Yes.”

“And that you spoke to someone who wasn’t there?” He leaned on the railing, looking out on the endless expanse of space and water. I was never able to tell where the sky ended and where the ocean began on those nights without the blessed moon. He gave a small hum and looked to me, I could not see his face, for all I could discern was the outline of his form in the darkness.

“Good, you need to know they’re there.”

I was taken aback by the statement, and was thoroughly confused.

“What are... they?” I asked, uncertainty lingering in my voice. I was hesitant to ask, as I was sure the only thing I would gain from the answer was a poor night’s sleep.

“That is a very good question.” He turned from me and looked out on the ocean once more. We were both silent for a long while as we stood there, taking in the salty breeze and sound of waves lapping against the sides of the sloop. It was a very comfortable darkness that fell over us. Like a blanket on a cold morning it shielded us from the world and held us there pleasantly in that singular moment. Suspended in darkness and stars, we were, quietly within each other’s company.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Oliver?” Matthew spoke as softly as possible in the darkness, his form shifting to look at me with his one eye once more.

“I do not know,” I said in truth, for I was not sure whether to allow my imagination to roam and trust in creatures and things that I could not see.

“You must believe in them, if you really saw and heard them.”

“Maybe I do not, and it was a figment of my head.”

“Ah, but surely that’s not the case,” he whispered it to me, leaning closer to me in the darkness. “You saw them, and you know you did.”

“Very well... But who are they?”

“Souls of the departed bound to the sea much like you and me.” He drew back from me and returned to leaning against the railing. He was dancing around my questions like it were some great game, and I was growing tired of the uncertainty in his answers.

I suppose he realized my aggravation. “But if you really want to know…” He grabbed my right hand and placed something cold and smooth into my palm. It was spherical, but I could not figure out just what it was. “You ought to ask them yourself.” He closed my fingers around the cold ball, and turned from me. His heels clicked against the wood of the deck as he walked back toward the doors leading down to his cabin. I’m not sure how me managed to see them, as there was only a vague outline of the ship against the sky.  “Sleep well, Oliver, I can feel a storm coming.”

I stood there dumbfounded in the dark, watching as his presence left me. I began to fiddle with the ball he had given me, and I found that it was completely smooth, but despite holding it in my hand for some time, it never warmed in the slightest. Shortly afterwards I sought the comfort of my hammock to sleep. I was met with uncomfortable dreams that night, and my Captain seemed to be the center of them.

In the morning I was able to gaze at the ball that Matthew had given to me. I thought it to be made completely of glass at first, but it was actually a clear and beautiful crystal. It was slightly bigger than my eye, and smoother than anything I had ever felt before. There was not a single blemish in its pristine form. I fiddled with it often throughout my day when I had nothing to do with my hands. I kept it in a small leather pouch that tied to my belt, and whenever my nerves began to gnaw at me, I would twist it between my fingers to steady my hand. I did not understand why I was given this crystal marble, it seemed too plain to be something to assist with the spirits I’ve been seeing. In all honesty it was the first thing I had ever been given for me to keep. It was solely mine to have and enjoy, and for that I was endlessly grateful.

Later on in the next day, in size untold, a great mass of black and grey clouds loomed on the horizon. My thoughts had fled back to what my Captain had said the night before about a storm, and I felt fear well in my gut. I had heard many a tale during my time as a slave from fishermen who had lived through tremendous storms out at sea. My nerves overcame me as I watched the ominous storm in the distance, it’s clouds filled to the brim with the raw power of the earth.

“Don’t fret yourself.” My Captain had managed to walk soundlessly to my side as I watched the sky darken in the distance. Needless to say he gave me a tremendous fright, and I nearly jumped from my skin when he spoke. I almost dropped the marvelous crystal ball he had given me in the process, and once I had recovered from fumbling to catch it, I was able to look back at him.

“I don’t believe this storm will capsize us, but we’ll need to make sure everything is tightly secured before tomorrow.” He did not look to me, rather, he looked at the clouds boiling in the horizon. “It will be a fantastic learning experience for you, I’m sure.”

“By fantastic, do you mean to say terrifying?” I questioned, slipping the crystal into the leather pouch. Normally, I would not have replied so crossly, but he had given me a tremendous scare, and I was a bit sore at him for it.

My captain laughed and shook his head, clasping his gloved hands behind his back. “Goodness, I suppose it will be a bit scary for you.” He looked up at me with a smile spread across his face. “But do not worry, I will make sure nothing happens to you.” I was always glad that he took no offense to my retorts, and that he usually found them to be endearing.

I was comforted by the statement despite knowing no man in this world could compare to the strength of nature. After our small conversation my Captain made an announcement to the crew to begin tying down the cannons and other such cargo, as well as their own things if need be. I was sent below deck to assist in tying down the cannons, as my strength was much appreciated at that point.

As I worked, I was able to overhear several things from my crew-members. Some of them complained that we should have anchored to wait out the storm on one of the islands we had seen a few days prior, others were worrying about the storm, saying we were out in some sort of dangerous waters, and others just rolled their eyes and squared their jaws as they worked. Tying ropes and securing cannons made my hands burn and ache, but I was determined to assist as much as possible.

Once we had finished our tasks, many went about other businesses and I had to prepare a meal for them. We were to land in some sort of port in several days to restock and trade. I was very glad at this, as the meat was beginning to rot and hold a foul smell, and we were running out of spices to mask the taste. The storm would delay our plans, but we would make it through just fine.

The next morning I woke to shouting, the storm had come earlier than anticipated, and we had yet to take down the sails. I quickly slipped on my clothes and boots and joined the men on deck. The captain was shouting orders over the howling wind and crashing waves, and I was soaked to the bone in a moment of being on deck. The rain slammed into my skin with such harshness, I was afraid it would draw blood. My crew-members were struggling with the ropes, and I joined them within an instant.

The ropes burned my hands and pulled me and my crew-members as if we weighed nothing. Right as we were able to tie down a sail, a tremendous wave spilled over the side of the ship and swept me and several of my crew-mates off of their feet. I was slammed against the railing, and was having a difficult time returning to my feet, as more water poured over me and kept me down. My muscles screamed in pain from the strain, and my eyes were clouded by salt and water, but I was finally able to stand after a moment of struggling.

I returned to the ropes and heaved with all my might, and we were finally able to tie down all the sails after a short while. I was relieved to finally get the sails down, but in my relief I did not grab hold of something, and was once more swept off of my feet by a wave of water. I desperately tried to grab and cling to anything I could, but I soon found myself being pulled overboard. The ship’s railing was passing under me and I was twisted around to look into the water. Flashes of lightning illuminated the surface, and the frothing foam of waves consumed each other like great beasts. My hair flung about me wildly in drenched curls, and it felt like time itself had stopped. I was suspended in the few moments before I would meet my end, unable to avoid drowning in the sea between the torrent of darkness and rain and vast watery abyss. I was not even able to shout as the water violently began to pull me closer to it’s endless arms.

But something grabbed hold of my ankle.

I was jerked away from the waves and the reflected veins of light and held tightly in someone’s grasp. I felt my body being heaved upwards, and I was pulled over the railing and dropped onto the deck much like a dead fish. Everything was coming to me too slowly, and I barely understood that I was not currently drowning in water in that moment.

My Captain stood over me with his one, wild eye, and I could only stare back through the rain. His black hair flew about him like seaweed in the wind and water dripped down his face in large droplets as everything passed by at a leisurely rate. I was lying on the deck, not able to stand on my own accord, though I wanted desperately to get to my feet again. I stared at him, water running over me as more spilled over the sides of the ship. It felt as if years had passed before he leaned down and grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to my feet. I still looked into his eye, wide and almost frightened as it was.

“Easy there!” my Captain yelled over the rage of the sea, grabbing me by both arms and shaking me. His mouth was moving, and I understood the words pouring from his lips, but I was never sure if I really heard them. I simply blinked as I looked at him, everything still being covered in the slow and groggy haze. The thunder sounded in my ears, deafening all other sounds, and I was not able to will my limbs to do anything other than be shook by my captain’s firm grip. I had not tore my eyes off of his, not even when the lightning overhead struck the sea close to us, not even when a rope had snapped and began to fly unrestrained in the wind dangerously close, and not even as the crewmates swarmed desperately trying to catch it.

“Oliver, Oliver! Wake up, Oliver!” Only then did my mind drag itself out of the slow and murky embrace of terror and into the rush and thrill of the present moment. I blinked and shook my head, sending soaked curls flying and smacking about my face. I swallowed thickly, and finally let go of a breath I did not know I was holding. My captain looked a bit relieved to see me pulled out of my fear-stricken trance, but he kept holding on to me. I was thankful for his grasp, as he kept me anchored in my place. Even when a sizable wave of water rose over the side of the ship and crashed over us, we remained where we were, stone statues to the walls of water.

“Are you alright?” He called to me, making sure to keep me from being consumed by terror once more and drifting back into the haze.

I gave a nod and breathed shakily, my arms trembling in his grasp. “Yes. I’m alright.” I was not able to talk above the booming thunder, and I was drowned out in the noise, but he seemed to understand my reply.

From there I was able to return to helping the crew members, and the storm died down closer toward the afternoon. We were left sailing with dark clouds above us, but beautiful rays of light sliced through the dark and wet gloom in patches, and it was an incredulously beautiful sight.

After everything was thoroughly secured, and the rain was reduced to a mere sprinkle, I sat myself down on the deck and leaned my back against the ship’s railing, breathing almost laboriously to calm myself. I was still shaken from nearly being pulled overboard, and tremors still filled my arms and legs.

My Captain sat himself down beside of me, and pulled out his pipe. “I told you I'd make sure nothin’ happened to you.” He spoke softly, pulling a pouch of tobacco from his coat and stuffing a sizable amount in his pipe. Neither of these items seemed to be wet, despite him being soaked to the bone and still dripping. “Though, I will admit, I didn't expect you to nearly be pulled overboard.” He lit his pipe with a small flint box and puffed on it. The wide brim of his hat helped to keep the sparse raindrops from putting out his pipe. “I s’pose it was still a very good learning experience for you.”

I gave no reply other than a small nod. I was so shaken from what had happened earlier, that I was finding it a bit difficult to find my voice.

“Care for a smoke?” My Captain held the pipe out to me. It was certainly beautiful, a dark brown wood perfectly carved and crafted, with intricate details carved into the bowl. It looked to be ships on the water, and all of them were exact in their details; rigging and knots could be discerned among the boards and mass. I was intrigued and gently took his offer with a shaky hand.

I had been around those who smoked tobacco all my life, but I had never partook in it before then. I knew the basis of it, though, simply breathe in the smoke and breathe it out, but what I didn't know was how strong it was. I took a much larger puff of it than I needed, and began to choke and retch. The smoke made me feel sick to my stomach, and I could practically feel my face begin to turn green. I handed my Captain the pipe, still hacking.

He gave a small chuckle and looked over at me with a smile. “Been smoking long?” he asked sarcastically as he continued to puff on his pipe.

“Just started,” I wheezed between coughs, making sure to cough into my fist. Smoke puffed from my mouth and nose as I struggled to breathe.

“Here,” My Captain pulled out a small flask, it was silver and plain, and full of some sort of liquid. “Wash it down.”

I took the flask and had a swig. My throat immediately began to burn as it was met with pure rum. Thankfully the drink was able to ease my cough, but I felt a bit sickly afterwards. Some say that smoking is good for you, but after feeling smoke clog my lungs I highly doubted it.

“Drink up, if you’d like.” My Captain nudged me to have another swig of the rum. I had tasted rum before, it was the rum we kept on the ship in place of water (as water always began to reek and grow green within a week or two of being on board). I’m sure he would not have offered me the rum if we had not been docking within a day or two.

I looked down at the flask in my hand and held it between my fingers, looking over it’s craftsmanship.

Just then, the door leading down below deck opened, and Benjamin stepped out into the grey drizzle. It seemed to me that he was significantly dryer than the rest of the crew members, I figured that he had stayed below deck during the storm. I looked at him, and he looked at me with all the burning hatred a man could ever possess. Judging by the look of astonished revulsion spread across his face, I’m certain he took notice of me being so near the captain, and that I was holding his flask. To spite him I took a large swig of rum as I looked him in the eye.

Oh! How he boiled at that. His blood rushed to his face and turned his papery skin to red ink as his hackles raised. I was so tickled by his reaction that I took another swig, and he watched in silent fury as me and the Captain shared a drink.

Benjamin quickly stormed back below deck, to brood more than likely. A small smile met my lips, and I sipped the rum once more.

“Don’t pay any mind to him,” my Captain said, blowing out a plume of smoke. “He’s just ill tempered, is all.”

“Do I repulse him?” I handed my captain the flask and he took the pipe out from between his teeth to take a swallow of it. “I’m certain that I do, what with how he treats me.”

“I’m afraid he’s like that with everyone. I can’t blame him, of course, you’d be angry too if you once had to deal with the British Royal Navy.” He took one more swig before handing the flask back to me. Having the drink in me made me feel much warmer than before, but gooseflesh still covered my skin.

“Ah, so he was a sailor.”

“Not just a sailor. He had been a Naval officer, a rather important one at that… But, by god, the Navy commits acts worse than anything us pirates do on a daily basis. Lashings almost every hour for such minor things… It’s no wonder he ran away as cold as he is.”

I gave a small wince at hearing the word ‘lashings’. I was not unaccustomed to such practices. On the settlement which my master had lived and owned a great number of other slaves, I had watched many a person be tied to the whipping post. I was frightened of such cruel treatment, tied and subjected to a cat o’ nine tails, crimson dotting the earth by my feet, cold iron chains binding my wrists and ankles. I felt a heavy pity well in my gut, hence then, I believed Benjamin just to be an ill tempered man, but I could empathize with him on such poor treatment.

“I’ve seen his scars. Dreadful things, they are.” My captain took one hand and began to motion in a slashing movement over his shoulder. “All across his back, right in here. Ghastly lookin’ scars. Of course, everyone that’s ever been in the Navy’s got at least one scar from being whipped.”

“I’ve been whipped as well..” Only once, for dropping a tea set and breaking the expensive cups, but I was scarred from it all the same. “I suppose I can understand his plight.”

“I’m not sure if you can, Oliver.” My Captain clasped a gloved hand onto my shoulder and gave a firm squeeze. “You have decided to stay kind and with a full heart. He, on the other hand, is very cold and hateful and drowning in isolation. Do keep your kindness, if you will, it’s all we have left in this world at the end of it all.”

I gave a nod, mulling over his words with the rum in my hands.