The work was hard to be sure. Despite only being twenty, I was resigned to a life of toil. Even still, I knew what I was getting myself into; or at least I thought I did. No one said anything about dealing with a Kraken when I joined the crew. Of course the implication was there that there may well be an attack, but ever since Columbus proved the world was round no one really took the tales of sea monsters seriously. Those who did were either drunks, superstitious, old wives, or a combination of the three.
It all began with the dress. Oh that damned dress. How right they were when they said it would bring trouble! A damned crew is what we were unless we got rid of it they said! The Captain declared those who believed so to be "Superstitious goats." I agreed and made it known. Most of the rest of the crew, including my best mate Lahnie, were torn between believing it was just a stowaway (A naked woman is a nicer train of thought.) and it being a spirit. The uncertainty of the crew, especially Lahnie, annoyed me. Still, I was only a deck hand, and a fresh one to the sea. None of the older crew really cared for my words, and they made it known to the captain.
As much as he appreciated my believing him, the captain reprimanded me for so openly criticizing the older crew mates. I don't blame the captain, even now. He was just doing what was appropriate. Later, when the Captain made known the incident with the dress flying, the crew shifted in opinion that it was a spirit. Even when it was made known the 'spirit' directed us towards Tortuga (From where even I derived a nice bit of coin) I didn't believe it was a spirit. The entire thing with the flying dress could've been an elaborate set up. Still my words were ignored.
I will pass over the dealings at Tortuga (Some are better left unknown, while others will cause me to wake screaming in the night for my mum for the rest of my life.) and skip to the final incident that made me realize something was going to happen. A man in a longboat, in the middle of the ocean. How this man ended up in such a situation I still can't imagine. All I know is we should've left him to rot. If we had, the Edinburgh would probably still be afloat, and I still a deck hand. On second thought, had the Kraken not attacked, I wouldn't be where I'm at now. Here is not the appropriate time to address my current circumstances however.
We picked up the man in the long boat, and he was shown straight to the captain. I don't know what was said in the cabin between him, the Quartermaster, the Bosun and the Captain, but not five minutes after they went in a ship was spotted on the horizon. It flew no colors, and immediately the cry of 'Pirates' was on the crew's lips. Glancing away from my mopping, I looked at the coming ship with fear and unease. A feeling of dread had been with me since we picked the man up, and it was then I perhaps subconsciously realized that the man in the longboat had doomed us. "It's the Flying Dutchman!" No sooner did the words leave the man's mouth then the ship jolted. Oh what terrible luck for us! "We must've hit a reef!" The Captain said as he stood. I myself was thrown to the deck and momentarily lost. As I stood up, men running around me to either look over the sides or run below decks to assess the damage the reef caused, I heard a scream and the first yells.
"Kraken!" Instant adrenaline. Spears, axes and pistols were pushed into hands. Men stabbed, chopped and fired wildly too little ill effect on the Kraken. Tentacles flailed, grabbed men and yanked them from the ship and into the sea. "Here it is! Take it! Take it!" The Quartermaster flung the dress at the Kraken and turned to run just as a tentacle grabbed him and yanked him away. I made a stab at a tentacle with the spear I had. A right good jab! The spear stuck into the tentacle, but was yanked away. It struck and snapped several lines holding the sail. One such line whipped and struck me a searing blow in the face and chest. I fell over the lid to the forward cargo hold, blood pouring from my wounds to cover my eyes and coat my clothes. I heard a loud, terrifying splash and roar, a rolled onto my back in exhaustion to look my death in the eyes. Two tentacles, infinitely larger then the others, were coming down towards the ship. Despite the pain of the wounds, I flung myself almost drunkenly from the hold lid. I heard the mast crushing and crashing above me, and just as I threw myself overboard the mighty crash as they struck the ship.
The ocean was cold, and the shock of the temperature quickly (If temporarily) drove the encroaching dark from my vision and forced what little breath I had from my lungs. I surfaced and madly inhaled. Blindly groping I managed to grab a piece of debris and clung to it. As soon as I balanced myself, my grip went weak. I'm sure I looked dead, floating there and bleeding because when I heard a ship come splashing by, I heard a voice come down. "The boy's not here. He must've been claimed by the Sea." I felt a pair of eyes burning into my back, followed by a reply. "I AM the Sea."
The heard the ship splash by again, and soon I was left alone with the dead bodies of my shipmates. I was sure I was the only one left alive as I heard no one for awhile afterwards. If there were others, they were as badly injured as I was. I began thinking maddening thoughts. Was this the end? Was I going to die? Part of me didn't care. Part of me wished the Kraken had killed me (Or that I'd at least had the guts to shoot myself). I began to long for dry land, of my parent's small home in Port Royal. Oh Jamaica! Ne're again will I see those beautiful mountains and cliffs at Twilight! No more will I walk the streets and scowl at the drunkards who lazed about guzzling their fowl brews in the midmorning! I will die here, alone at sea.
But I did not.
I don't know how long I lay there, but soon (Before the evening had even begun to approach) I heard more splashing. I expected it was one of the numerous sharks come to finish me off. They had been feeding on the bodies for awhile, and I figured my time had come. "Oi! Is anyone alive?!" A voice! People! I didn't care who they were! I had to get their attention. Making use of the little energy I had left, I lifted myself up and waved an arm, all the while yelling loudly. Or I wanted to anyway. Instead of a yell, it came out more of a howl. "Jamaica! Jamaica!" Frantic paddling as I collapsed back onto the debris. "Yell again mate!" "Help Jamaica! Help me!" Another few seconds and I felt myself carefully pulled onto a longboat. Cries of shock that anyone was left, thanks to God for sparing one and all manner of non-understandable words attacked me. I got a look of a world weary, creased and frowning face before I finally succumbed to the black that had been stalking me for hours.
When I came to, I was in a ship's infirmary. To be honest, I was surprised I was alive. For a few moments I actually thought I was dead and in Heaven. Even when the man with the world weary, creased and frowning face face walked in I wouldn't believe I was alive. I demanded of him (Actually calling him the Angel of Death once) what I had done in my rather short life to deserve to remain on a ship even in the afterlife. After a few moments (As well as glares and threats of injury) I was finally convinced I was, indeed alive. My injures had been bandages (The one on my face, which went diagonally between my eyes from right to left, very sloppily so) and I was, apparently, still close to death from the blood I had lost. The man with the world weary, creased and frowning face introduced himself as Mercer (I forgot the name in my delirium and still, for years after, referred to him as the man with the world weary, creased and frowning face) and took his turn in demanding. He wanted to know what had happened, and not to leave out any details. I told him all I knew of, from the first happenings with the dress to the man in the long boat.
He seemed strangely satisfied, especially when I told him of the man in the long boat. He asked for explicit details of the man's appearance, and became even smugger. "Did he survive?" Mercer asked me. "I ain sure suh. If he did he moight'a been picked oop by tha ship that attacked." I said in my broken English. When I was a deck hand, I spoke with a thick accent as a sign of my raising. Like I stated earlier, however, here is not the place to describe my current circumstances (Nor my now perfected and accent-less English). Mercer's smirk, which already seemed ready to devour his face, grew. "Good boy, good. You've been a great help." He explained to me about the man in the long boat, saying that his name was William Turner, and that he was wanted by the East India Trading Company for freeing a pirate who had been condemned to death. I knew it! I knew the man in the long boat was no good!
"We believe him to still be alive, despite the attack. Tell me, what would you do if you lived to meet Mr. Turner?" At the thought of seeing the man in the long boat again, anger burned in me. My comrades, my best mate, my Captain, my life, were gone because we picked him up. "I would see him brought to justice!" I was quick to snap this out, and I think the intensity with which I said it may have surprised Mercer a bit. A look of vague surprise, then that smirk. Oh, that ugly ugly smirk. It seemed to split his face, and I later felt disgust when I learned more about him and how many saw that smirk before he knifed them. "Tell me boy, how would you like to be of service to the East India Trading Company? You may well get your chance to repay Mr. Turner. When we make Port and you've healed up a bit I'll introduce you to Lord Beckett. If you're interested of course." A chance a new life, a chance to avenge myself on the man who wrought the end of the Edinburgh, who robbed me of my life. How could I, nay, any in my place, say no?
From the memoirs of Lieutenant Daniel Cromwell
-Chapter 3: The beginnings of a soldier-