~Chapter 2~
Philip's POV
After they had put the creature in its watery coffin, I headed back to shore with the rest of my camp. It appeared as if the attack was over, but the devastation it left in its wake was great. Corpses of those men who had befallen a watery death at the vile creatures' hands had washed up on shore, horribly disfigured and barely recognizable. Some of the remaining men were sitting and staring at friends that they had lost, however, at the same time they were removing their belongings and adding them to their own belts and pockets.
"Take tonight to rest, for we have what we came here for, but in the morning, we set off! We will find the fountain, and we shall take it for our own!" shouted the captain as we entered the small beginnings of a camp set up by the survivors of the crew. The captain had said nothing of mourning for those men that they had lost, nor of what to do with the bodies of those who had washed back up on shore. However, a few of the crew had already picked up shovels, and were heading out to bury their friends and fellow crew members. A few others of us went with the men wielding the shovels; I with a bible in hand, and others wishing to fill their pockets with valuables of those lost.
Syrena's POV
The water in my cage slowly sloshed around wildly as two disfigured creatures carried me towards the encampment of men, and set the box down roughly in the sand. I had plenty of time to observe my captors, it would seem; they were settling on the beach for the night. However, I noticed with remorse, not close enough to the shore for my sisters to reach them. The crew was made mostly of dirty, grimy-looking, men. They were gathered around the warmth of their fires, laughing, and drinking out of dark, filthy bottles. There were two men, the ones who had carried my prison, who were different than the rest. They seemed as soulless as the corpses of the men who had perished. They were covered head to foot in lacerations that looked old, but still bloody and rotten as if they were fresh. Their eyes held no light, no hint of emotion. They weren't even truly like men at all, more like moving cadavers.
The one female in the group was visibly shaken, even though she attempted to hide it from the men. I knew she would be, as soon as I had taken her ankle, and attempted to pull her under. It would haunt her for the rest of her life. She would tell stories of this adventure, and even include that moment, but she would never let on to the immense fear she felt when she had almost been caught by me. She was close to their leader, their "captain," so I suppose she was of high rank of the men. Only one man in the group, other than the captain, had the audacity to touch her. He was just as vile as the rest, but held himself with more ease than the rest, as if he had just as much worth as their leader. The rest of the men stayed away, fearing any interaction with her.
The man I had foolishly saved earlier was different than most too. Most of the men who weren't gathered around fires were stealing from the bodies of the dead. He was with some of the other men who were digging large holes in a patch of woods near the beach. After they threw the bodies of their crewmates in, he kneeled down by each of them, bowed his head, and then said something to each out of a small, slightly tattered book that he was carrying. He was kinder than the other men, offering condolences to the men who mourned after brothers or lost crew. There was something about him that wouldn't allow me to look away for long, no matter how much I attempted to do so. I could not avert my gaze, it would shortly return to the same man; shoulder length blond, encrusted with mud and salt from the sea. Decently tall and rather slender, while still being muscular, never a hard look on his face, but a rather a convinced one. It was as if he was determined about everything he did, and so he did it with conviction.
Philip's POV
I busied myself by going along to the fallen men, bible in hand, trying to redeem some of the men who were in the clutch of death, so that they could pass on to a better place, however, for the lost, I said a quick prayer in hopes that God would be forgiving. I offered condolences to the men who had lost their brothers, and got shooed away by a few who were not willing to let me pray, for they figured that the sea was life, and that God could do nothing now.
However, I could not help but thinking about the creature, the monster, I reminded myself, that I had helped capture for the captain. It made itself look so feminine; I supposed this was to trick the sea-wary men who her kind would lead to their deaths. Yet, even so, even though it, she, looked so dangerous, she was incredibly alluring, and my eyes were continuously drawn to her hopeless figure, secured behind the large panes of glass. NO! I cannot think of it, yes, it, not she, as something so helpless, of something Godly, for it is a creature that should not be. A monster who would not take pity on me if I were dragged into her realm. No, she and her kind would feed off me the vicious way that they had done to many poor, captured souls. I would have to keep the task at hand, I'm a missionary and I am here to spread faith through these hardened souls.
For now, however, I would have to find some form of food and drink, and not that vile rum that these men swig with such vigor, I had an emptied rum bottle filled with a bit of wine, not water, but something.
"Sleep as you can men! We set off at first light, and those who do not want to be left behind would likely set up camp now!" The captain roared as soon as I made my way towards a fire. Thank God that the men who were huddled around it were some of the few who had already taken the captains advice and were already asleep, the bottles of rum they had procured clutched in their hands, along with their grimy hats. Might as well attempt to sleep some myself, I wasn't going to survive this without a little bit of rest after the attack.
