The Ghostly Vow
The waves rolled malicious and violent against the sandy beach, and the jagged rocks by the tide pools, creating white sea foam to spit in several directions under the bold light of the full moon. The tide was a monster giving call in its taunting voice, to the small town just beyond the beach, with lanterns lit and swaying on hooks next to the doors of each house and shop. It was a symbol of welcoming to weary travelers, and a light to guide the sea faring sailors and fisherman home.
It was upon this night, that a rather large pirate ship with black shadowy sails, weighed anchor on the outskirts of the mainland, spotlighted by the moons silvery rays reflected off the water. It was the Kessler, one of the four fastest pirate ships in all the Spanish Main, and captained by a fearsome pirate, Captain Black Heart. He gave out mercy with the sound of his whip and justice by the blade of a sword. Though his heart was like the rock of a volcano, it was melted by the heart of a maiden, who was so fair and beautiful. Her voice was like an angel, eyes like forget-me-nots, and long curly strawberry blonde hair that encircled her face and fell upon her delicate shoulders. She was the diamond hidden in the center of his black heart.
The boat creaked and groaned like a weather beaten shack battling a fierce wind storm, while the silvery glow of the moons eye spread across the deck, trying desperately to unveil the mysteries of every hidden crevasse on the ship, only to be sully disappointed with the eerie shadows that seemed to play games of hide and seek around corners the light could not reach. Two unseen figures darted in and out of the shadows slinking toward the left side of the boat. Not a word or a noise was heard but the flapping of the sail in the salty sea breeze and the continued groaning and creaking of the wood against the sway of the waves.
"Mic?"
"Aye, Capt'n," growled the shadowy figure standing next to the prepared dinghy. Mic's face appeared in the dim light of a lantern dangling from a hooked fist. His long stringy hair covered his sunken features and leathery brown skin, that drooped around his eyes and neck. His sun blistered lips curled away in a grimace exposing a set of rotting teeth. He looked like a bum in ragged clothes that started to look to big for his body. He moved closer to the Capt'n.
"Is everything ready for us to go ashore?" Mic raised his lantern higher to get a better look at the other two figures next to the captain. A tall dark muscular man, the size of a tank, in a ripped gray tunic that exposed a huge portion of his chest and arms, wearing a frown glared back at him. He carried a petite young woman in his large arms. Her eyes were closed, her face pale, and her body lifeless like the dead.
"She's gotten worse," Mic's gruff whisper stirred the silence. His black beady eyes lowered some. "She'll plague us all with her fever." Mic quivered in the lamp light.
"That is why we must get her to shore. Treber, set her in the boat and make sure she is covered, the chill may be the death of her." Treber nodded silently and passed his captain to the dinghy.
"Why save her, Capt'n? She be a wench that can easily be replaced by another..." With a flash of glittering metal against the moonlight, Captain Black Heart situated his sharp cutlass against the leathery skin of Mic's neck and chin.
He growled like a wounded animal in Mic's ear, "She is my life and I will not bury her soul or her body beneath the cold crushing abyss of Davy Jone's locker, if there is a SMALL chance I can save her."
"Aye, Capt'n." Mic swallowed hard, his body rigid.
"That will cost you about forty lashes when I return. Next time I will not be so merciful." Captain Black Heart returned the cutlass at his waist, still fuming over his out spoken pirate comrade. Mic's tense muscles began to relax. He grimaced while rubbing the spot where the cutlass grazed his throat.
"What about the King's Armada? Stubborn mongrels haven't given up chase yet...they'll catch us, and gut us like dogs before ya be return'n."
"We have the lead. I doubt they will find us here nor expect us to drop anchor. It's only for a few hours. Keep your eye on the look out and if they appear on the horizon, hoist the anchor and head south. Don't return until its safe."
"But, Capt'n..." Mic seemed to protest but held his tongue. Captain Black Heart leaped over the side of the boat and into the dinghy before untying the rope, and lowering the boat into the restless sea. The captain was a fool. They would surely die by the sword of the Armada, just for the life of a wench. Mic watched the dinghy bobble up and down over the waves into the darkness and gathering fog.
He shook his head bitterly, "Curse the capt'n to Davy Jones locker." He spat on the wooden deck. then Mic quietly retired to his post grumbling more obscenities about the captain's foolishness.
TO BE CONTINUED....
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