A Pirate's Story

         Standing nearly six foot tall, a single blue lock covering a right eye, a nautical star tattooed to the left of a near shaven head, the blue eyed male brought a gold telescope to his uncovered eye and peered through the looking glass, a small island some hours away in the distance. He smirked wildly and with a snap shut of the scope he jeered.

“Boys, treasure is ours!”

The men cheered and ran to the lines and grunts could be heard as lines were tugged and sails were dropped, the wind catching just right and speeding them ahead. 

“Captain Nautical”

A boys voice came, no older then twelve maybe even thirteen. The men were angered always by the boys presence, for after all they were pirates and if it was not treasure or rum, or a woman, they were not happy.  But to their captain the boy was worth more than any treasure.

“Captain, May I come ashore with you. I wish to chart said treasure island, perhaps an island that could pose a get a way for even yourself.”

Nautical smirked again and leaned down to the boy.

“You are bold boy, but your ability to chart and read maps is unlike no other. You are more than welcome to come ashore. Just keep up.”

Nautical flipped his lock from his eye and moved swiftly down the stair to the deck and into his cabin. He paid no mind to his liquor or treasure and went for his sword and pistol, and his gold throwing axe. He pulled his chainmail vest over his bare torso and swung his knee length dark blue and gold embroidered jacket and marched back out of his cabin.

“Drop the anchor!”

Within moments the anchor was dropped and the men were dropping the  escape boats in the water and loading them with provisions’ making jokes and such about what they would to with their share of the treasure and the females the planned to entice when they returned to port. All their captain could to was shake his head as he climbed into the first boat. Six men stayed put with the ship while the rest rowed forward. 

Quietly and steadily they moved, cutting through the water like butter. Nautical had a thing for not disturbing wildlife when he did not have to. Not because it was polite but the sea could be a ruthless girl and could sick those creatures right on him and his men. He smirked, thinking of stories old drunk men in the grogs talked of crazy old coots, but he believed every one of them to some point.

Waves crashed against the shore hard, they got out of their boats further from land then they wanted but to bring them in safely instead of smashing upon contact, it was needed. Nautical grabbed the front end of his and with a single heave from the men in sync the boats were lifted near to their head and walked to the shore.

The younger boy, having trouble to help at all with the boats he had been on for he was half the size of the grown men; But he grabbed a fallen paddle and carried a rope the was dragging behind. He was disappointed that it was all he could do to help. Once they reached the shore, the boats were mounted down and now safe from the growing tide.

Nautical pulled out the old map, drawn on the hide of some ancient beast slaughtered long ago for food and clothing, now a map to the possessions they once held. He was skeptical about the treasure but kept high hopes for his men.  They discussed the layout and looked around the island. There was naught but a few trees some large boulder and a stone building that had crumbled under the salty waves.

“I suppose we start there.”

“One, two, three and four paces this way, two back and more forward to the odd tree then the small boulder.”

Nautical spoke to himself as he traced what the map said. Thrice times he did it, ending up in the same spot and broke first ground, the men quickly joining in. They dug hard, the dug fast, the dug deep into the ground as the sun began to set on the horizon; and with a hard thud one man’s shovel hit against their chest.

Quickly they hoisted up the wooden box, it was rough and rotting, long rusty nails pokes out here and there. They had no trouble at all breaking the sand coated, weather worn lock off of the wooden chest; well it was more like a large crate one would use to transport a chicken or two. Nautical sighed and shook his head, his skeptical feeling nearly a fact in his mind as he looked on at his men’s eager faces and they threw back the lid.

No sooner had the lid been hauled off into the sand before a shrieking noise brought hands to ears and the men to their knees. The sound was painful and they felt like skin was being torn from their limbs. Barely could Nautical open his eyes to look upon the horror they had unleashed upon themselves. He slowly stood, hunched over he was and knees wobbling and he looked up at what he believe to be ghosts. Perhaps the same men and women that once inhabited the forgotten island. Somewhere in his mind the thought that the island was forgotten on purpose flashed for a brief second before he collapsed, torso falling over against the cursed chest, moment’s later darkness over took him.

Groans and coughs, and mumbled curses could be heard as a group of men came too and began to rise about. Tired, pale faces looked at one another scratching their heads and trying to figure out what had just happened. Nautical pushed himself up and off the crate stumbling backwards a bit before regaining his footing and rubbing his abdomen where he had been leaning over the brim of the chest. He shook his head and turned and glared at the chest, walking towards it cautiously; shrieking still echoing in his ears. He carefully peered down into it, and shook his head with a smirk. All there was , was a book, a letter and a some kind of gold shard, broken away from the rest of whatever it was, and there was anything else that went with it.

“The treasure?”

A man growled and pushed Nautical to the side and looked for himself. He roared angrily and kicked the chest over with his oversized foot. A big man he was round, with a raunchy accent.  The crew gasped and swore and quickly began to blame one another for the treasure not being there.  Quickly things grew silent and attention had now focused on nautical, their captain; and he had expected nothing less as he picked up the rather heavy book, letter and gold shard as his attention now focused on them.

“I warned you from the beginning the odds of finding valuable things on lost islands from long ago were a fool’s hope. I suppose none of you would even care to learn the contents of this book, or the history of this island. You are all greedy fools.”

Nautical sneered at them, half speaking through gritted teeth and shaking his head. His men said nothing and kicked sand as they turned and made for the escape boats; all but one. The boy, the youngest and smallest of them just remained standing, starring at the book in his captains hands. He was not in school for very long before he had chosen a pirates life; but he wanted a different version to sail and document everything he did and saw, read and learn of the old ways and that becoming the new. It is what men hated most; a smart ass, a clean cut boy with no back bone.

“Perhaps there are other worldly mysterious in that book my captain.”

The boy gave Nautical a small, sincere smile as he remained positioned where he was standing. Nautical came forward and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Come Episteme, for the men will sail without us if given the chance.”

Quickly all the men boarded The Empress; the name of choice for his captain’s ship. Not one cared about disturbing the waters, not one cared for the other being beside or in from of them. They were angry and silent and wanted nothing more than to hurry to port. They took their posts amongst the ship, murmuring about when to change shifts as some went below deck and Nautical to the helm. The anchor was raised and roughly thrown back onto the deck as the ship was turned hard and began to head to port.

Below deck, and away from the other men, Episteme began to look over the old book. The pages weather worn like the chest and words and even pages had disappeared leaving no trace of their text behind. He started with the very first page, lightly running his fingers down and across as he starred at the pictures scribbled quickly in the fashion of a circle, wavy lines cut through it. He studied it intently, redrawing it in his leather bound journal, trying to figure out exactly what the spate portions meant and if it meant anything at all. No one paid any mind to him, except for the occasional fool hearted brat comment. He cared nothing for them, it was about the writings on the papers, not comments from grown men,

         Days and then weeks and even months past as they sailed the treacherous seas of what they believe to be near the end of the world. Why, they wondered had their homes been built and they themselves raised in such an ice land was beyond them. Silently they vowed to themselves to get their hands on a ship and sail to warmer climates; A ship that could brave the harsh seas,

the icy glaciers and the heat of the fiery sun. One man stole a glance at the helm and smirked a smirk that was contagious and skipped to every man’s mouth on the deck that night.

         As shifts changed, one word was whispered amongst the men and all but one of the men seemed to agree. Though he said nothing for or against it; he had sailed with the men longer then the captain, but the captain was a different man then he had sailed under before and took no pride in being ranked higher. Nautical would die with his ship before he let her get away, this he knew. Soon the rest of the men quietly returned to the deck but none could get a footing to the stairs to Nautical before he was at the top and aiming his pistol between the first man’s eyes.

         “So, ye would try and take my ship from me hmm? What for?  Did I not warn you of what we might find? I simply wish, with the rest of you, to return to port, return home. Thus you may see your families again, eat at your own tables and sip your own liquors. But here ye stand, Tying to take my home and my love from beneath my feet.  I dare say then, come!”

         The men one after another dashed up the few steps to the ships helm, blades and guns drawn out of fury, mindless creatures they had become, seeking blood for payment now instead of treasure. Nautical got off a few rounds before drawing his blade and bringing down his own crew, an act that broke his heart over and over as more blood was spilled. It was no good, he knew there were too many, and before he knew it he took a powered round to his should that nearly knocked him from his feet. As he stumbled back slightly he caught Yuri from the corner of his eye, the man who had shown the most anger when said chest was opened, standing there, not helping his fellow men, but watching with an expressionless face.

         “Captain!”

         Episteme’s voice came over the sound of steel. He looked on as he could not make his way to the helm to try and help out the only man who would dare give him a chance. Nautical heard him but could not see him.

         “Flee boy! Take a boat and go and make something of yourself!”

         Tears ran down the boy’s cheeks as he turned and ran to starboard and began to drop a bat into the water, climbing in halfway down and cutting the ropes to drop him the rest of the way. Once again the men paid no mind to him, figuring he was as good as dead anyways. He hugged tightly to his small bag that held his journal and the treasure from the forgotten island as it were, quietly promising himself he would avenge his captain.

         Episteme sailed into the night, the waters seeming abnormally calm to him; but before he knew it he was drifting asleep. He dreamt of the sea, a ruthless creature she could be were the words repeating in his head, and then she came to him. Her skin so faire as she walked across the water, the moon reflecting off her and in her eyes, her lightly blue gown seemed to stretch on for miles as she walked towards the boat and near lifeless body. Slowly he sat up, still hugging his bad to his chest, and watched as her dark blue curly locks bounced around her waist. Never had he seen such a woman in the ports he had been to, but then again he had never seen anyone walk on the water. He studied her more and more intently the closer she got, almost as if she was a detailed book he could not pry his face from. He began to fidget with his bag, his hand searching for his journal and pencil as he wanted to capture her beauty, but was afraid should he look away she would disappear.

         “Fret not dear Episteme, for you are blessed with a gift that others in your time do not look friendly towards. I promise memory will serve you well as long as you see fit to remember. It will take some effort, but you are a boy who thrives on being diligent, seeking knowledge and wisdom in every task. My son.”

         Her voice was musical, as if a harp could speak. Her form was majestic as she bent over to kiss his head, and secure his bag beneath his arms once more. He watched her as she walked away the tails of her gown still flowing behind her long after sight. Her words playing over and over in his head.

         THUD!

         Episteme jerked awake, coming to a sitting position as he shook his head and looked around. Suddenly he laughed as he realized the boat had grounded itself upon the warm, white sands of Point Ongaku. He smiled as it was the most famous pirate port. Vendors along the beaches as far as the eyes could see selling jewels and clothes to weaponry and the shells found beneath ones toes. The air of smoked fish with the finest spices blew past his nose on the wind and he was drawn from his little wrecked boat to the closest grog with doors wide open and music singing joining smells in the air.