Chapter 2 THE LOCKER, AUGUST 1675

She was cold, oh so cold. Every board, every line on her was tense with it. Lang Schadow had never been so cold and being from the North she was used to the cold but not this, not this.

"Am I dead?" She asked herself.

Opening her eyes she decided the answer was no.

Looking around she could see she was in a makeshift tent of some sort. Supplies were spread around, stacked in neat piles according to use.

As she rose up to get a better look at her surroundings a stab of pain wracked her and she dropped back down.

She glanced at her side which was wrapped in bandages. "Broken ribs." She murmured.

She wondered how she even got here, then she remembered. The Maelstrom.

A million questions raced through her mind. Where was she now? Where was Vandecker? Was he alive? Did the crew make it out alive?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the tent's entrance rippled and another ship entered.

She was a large three masted British galleon around 450 feet long with a 50 foot beam which seemed wide but actually made her look quite robust. Her top deck was maybe 30 feet above the waterline and she likely had another 10 feet below the surface, if not more.

She had three rows of cannons for a total of 90 guns or 45 on each side, 15 per row.

Her masts were wracked back to grant her more speed and she looked like she could carry quite a bit of canvas.

But the most striking thing about her were her eyes.

Sparkling a deep ocean blue, they reflected wisdom, grace, and power. Lang Schadow had never seen such eyes on a ship.

The way she held herself suggested that she was in charge and she knew it but she wasn't arrogant about it.

She had the look of a proud commander, proud but not arrogant. A fierce warrioress dedicated to her master, whomever that may be. A Dauntless, that's what she was.

"Who are you?" Lang Schadow asked, on guard.

"If I wanted to harm you, I would've done so already." The ship replied.

Her voice was deep, but not cutthroat and it had a musical tone to it.

Lang Schadow could almost call it beautiful if she wasn't so frightened of the strange place she was now in.

"As for who I am, I am HMS Britannia." She said.

Lang Schadow was sure she looked ridiculous as her jaw dropped.

Of all the ships, none was more revered, even by the Dutch and the French, who hated the English, than HMS Britannia.

She was the Divine Protector of the British Empire and as rumor had it, one of the two ships to survive the Great Flood, the other being her sister Ark.

She was said to be immortal, having been granted the gift of eternal youth by the Ancients though she could still die in battle.

She was no opponent any sane ship would want to face, unless they had a death wish that is.

"My apologies." Lang Schadow said, bowing low.

Britannia laughed. "You are forgiven young one." She replied.

Moving forward, she nudged Lang Schadow's side gently.

The fluyt winced. "They are healing nicely." Britannia said quietly.

She looked at Lang Schadow who stared back in wonder.

"Where am I?" She asked. "You are in a place known as the Locker." Britannia replied. "It is a place for the dead, a resting ground for humans and ships alike as their souls travel to the next world."

"Am I dead?" Lang Schadow asked.

Britannia laughed softly. "No." She replied. "No, you are very much alive I assure you.

The Maelstrom you were in was a portal."

"Why am I here?" She asked. "You are here because I brought you here." Britannia replied.

"Why?" Lang Schadow asked.

"Because I need you to do something for me." Britannia replied.

"Name it." Lang Schadow replied.

Britannia's blue eyes narrowed. "Do not be so hasty." She said. "I need you to ferry souls from your world to here. The journey is becoming too hard on them as the veil grows ever thicker."

"You want me to ferry souls? Like the Ferryman?" Lang Schadow asked.

Britannia nodded. "Yes." She replied. "By doing so, you'll also become my apprentice. You'll be granted powers by the Ancients and become immortal like me."

Lang Schadow's eyes brightened. Being immortal sounded very appealing to her. She could check dying off her list of things to do.

As she opened her mouth to speak, Britannia stopped her.

"But be warned. "The old galleon said.

"Should you renounce your duties, renounce your ancestors, or break your oath to me in any way, you will be punished for eternity." She growled.

Lang Schadow couldn't see how she could ever do such a thing as betrayal so she agreed. "I'll do it." She said bravely.

Britannia smiled though her eyes remained dark. Did she know something about Lang Schadow that she herself did not?

"Repeat after me." Britannia ordered. "I, Lang Schadow third rate ship of the line of the Royal Dutch Navy."

"I, Lang Schadow, third rate ship of the line of the Royal Dutch Navy." Lang Schadow repeated.

"Do hereby and solemnly swear." Britannia said.

"Do hereby and solemnly swear." Lang Schadow replied.

"To carry out the duties as the ferryman under the noble, divine banner of the Ancients, my ancestors, until I am released from my command." Britannia said.

"To carry out the duties as the ferryman under the noble, divine banner of the Ancients, my ancestors, until I am released from my command." Lang Schadow finished.

Britannia moved forward, touching her prow to mine.

"Then, by the powers of the Ancients, I, HMS Britannia the Divine Protector of the Great British Empire, Princess of the Seas, hereby commission you, Lang Schadow third rate ship of the line of the Royal Dutch Navy, as Vliegend Vedmens, The Flying Dutchman. Rise, my apprentice!"

Flying Dutchman did, her green eyes fixed on Britannia's blue ones.

She moved forward, and nuzzled her mentor.

Britannia seemed a bit surprised but she nuzzled back eagerly.

"What of my powers you spoke of?" Flying Dutchman asked.

"Those will come with time. You will learn as you come to use them." Britannia replied.

Flying Dutchman nodded. She winced a bit as she moved.

Britannia gave her a hard nudge. "It's back to bed for now." She said. "You'll start your training in the morning. It's late."

Flying Dutchman nodded. "Alright Britannia, I shall obey." She replied.

Once she had settled in, Britannia turned to leave.

"Please stay, I never liked sleeping alone." Flying Dutchman begged.

Britannia paused and turned back around, smiling gently. It seemed she knew no other expression.

"If you insist." She replied and circled around, dropping down beside her apprentice.

Her hull gently brushed Dutchman's and the fluyt purred.

A question popped into the younger ship's head just as she was settling down to sleep.

"Britannia?" She asked.

"Hmm." Her mentor replied sleepily.

"Have I been speaking in English this whole time?" Flying Dutchman asked.

"Language is one gift you were guaranteed to have. You will speak each language as though it is your native tongue, though you cannot tell the difference." Britannia replied.

"Now sleep." She ordered.

Flying Dutchman had no trouble obeying, she was exhausted.

"Flying Dutchman, I'm the Flying Dutchman now." She thought.

And so, she drifted off to sleep an entirely new ship.