Who Has Seen the Wind?
-Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
--Christina Rossetti
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The sky was black this night, not a light could be seen through the inky darkness. Clouds hovered low, obscuring even the stars. The wind passed over the water, rippling the surface and slapping waves against the hull of the ship that slid smoothly over it. It was a perfect night, a night that every sailor dreams about. Well, that is if you're a pirate. And the crew of this ship were indeed pirates.
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Legends they were, sailing under the Captaincy of the greatest of pirates. Everyone knew of him, but few could ever lay claim to having the honor of meeting him. Tonight they were after one of the largest treasures to have ever crossed the sea. Two ships there were; Spanish gold ships. One, the transporter, the other, the security. It was evident that Spain was unwilling to let anything happen to this precious shipment. Too bad, the Captain thought, smiling grimly, that something was going to happen to it anyways.
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A small signal was all the Quarter Master needed to shift the wheel ever so slightly, bringing their ship silently behind the rear ship. The iSainté Martin/i was the ship that the Captain had his eye on. Its belly swam deeper than the other, marking it as the load carrier. With silent commands, the Captain directed his crew, silent ghosts moving on deck. Men long accustomed to sailing with this man slipped to their designated places, readying guns and swords of every size. Tonight they would be well rewarded for their loyalty to this Captain.
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The rumors had come to them long ago, whispers that turned heads. The Spanish were planning a shipment; more gold than any man could ever dream of. Their colonies in the Americas were desperate for support, and so the Crown, being loyal and desirous to see their settlements succeed, were sending over a fortune worth in treasure. They had hoped to keep it quite. They had failed.
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The creaking of masts and sails were the only sounds that permeated the silence of the night. In his head, the Captain counted silently, noting their position and the position of the gun ship at the front. i Only minutes away,/i he thought, smiling a half smile. He had waited for a challenge such as this to come up, and now, here it was, practically falling into his lap.
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Closer and closer they crept, not a sound giving them away. It was too bad, they would say later, really too bad. Had they only looked behind them, had the moon been shining on the waters that night, had the weather not threatened a storm at any moment, perhaps it could have been avoided. But no, fate, the older seamen would say, and the mother of the sea had stepped in. The Spanish lost their treasure that dark night. Twelve men left to tell the tale of the ghost ship that took their beloved gold, stealing toward them out of the fog. They had no warning, they told their King and Queen. Before the gun ship could respond, they had fallen victim to their attackers. Once they had what they came for, those scurvy dogs had disappeared as silently and quickly as they had appeared. The only thing left was the burning, sinking skeletons of two great ships. And then, there was nothing.