|Billy of the Sea (standard:adventure, 3554 words)|
|Author: FlutterWrites||Added: Mar 10 2013||Views/Reads: 1639/7863||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Billy , a quartermaster aboard a pirate ship has an unpleasant foreboding after a vicious storm.|
Billy of the Sea Dark, thunderous clouds had finally abated, allowing us to take stock of the damage. The crewmen scurried about, attending to the various blows the ship sustained from the vicious maelstrom. No one had time to say it, but we all thought it. How are we alive? We had believed ourselves dead men. Even the veteran pirates aboard, once unshakable, had made their peace. A sobering thought had echoed through our minds. It mattered not how seasoned or hardened one was in the art of sailing. Good sailors constantly reminded themselves that the sea had no master. Lest she remind you with her violent black waves thrashing against the hull of your puny vessel , her howling winds shredding through weak , mortal skin, the grip of the sea pushing you further and further into the abyss . “You are at my mercy”, she screams, “You are my slave, I obey no one!” Our captain, bore an impassive face despite the harrowing ordeal. I knew though, that deep down he was just as perturbed as we were. However, the lives of his men depended on him; he couldn't afford to lose his wits now. He began taking a head count of the remaining able bodied men, ordering the surgeon to attend to the wounded. As the Quartermaster, I inspected the sails, riggings and the keel of our vessel, The Gold Dagger. Thankfully the mast was intact, so were most of the riggings. The lifeboats however were completely destroyed. Worse yet, the canvas of our sails had been ripped straight through. Immediately I commanded the men to repair them. The sea had become absolutely still .The night skies reflection was so clear, it seemed our ship was floating among the stars, among duplicate moons. The tranquility was surpassing. One felt at ease with the elements, a total clash with the terror felt not moments ago. , for some strange reason, I couldn't relax. However, to not scare the crew, I kept those feelings to myself. Relief spread among the entire crew on being told that all men survived. Any injuries sustained were minor, as were the injuries to the ship. With the exception of the sails, all of which were ripped to shreds. As we could not steer, we were incapacitated. It would take several hours to repair them. But, the weather was so calm, that it did not pose a great danger. In celebration, the men began singing lively shanties at the top of their lungs. They sung of a valiant pirate king who ruled over a thousand ships. No one could master him, neither merchants nor armadas. He plundered obscene amounts of Spanish gold, hoarding every last doubloon on the farthest reaches of the sea. Urban lore held that it was buried to this day on an unknown island. Untold riches, just waiting to be claimed. A few of my men believed the tale to be true. Greedy men relish the idea of mythic gold. But, I knew better. Wayfaring seamen were always prone to exaggeration. Common stories were embellished to the point of bearing no relation to original premise. The legend of the Pirate King and his hidden treasure was a legend. Nothing more. Of course, I was thankful that sea shanties always roused the ship morale. Being mutinied upon was a common occurrence among our lot, captains and quartermasters better be wary if they wished to survive. There were important things I wished to discuss with the captain. Finally, it seemed that I would have the chance. Approaching his quarters, the cabin boy was busy sweeping up broken glass. The intricate stained glass mural of Spanish roses on the cabin doors had been entirely shattered. Such a pity, I always appreciated that small touch of color. Art was difficult to find on the open sea, and exceedingly more so among my rowdy pirate men. The cabin boy, Wendell was his name, lifted his head to give me a timid smile. We always had a silent understanding among the two of us. When he first came to us, the crew wanted to throw him overboard. The last thing we needed was another prisoner mouth to feed was the general consensus. Him being a young scrawny boy; the odds were already against Click here to read the rest of this story (326 more lines)
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