A/N: I'm sorry it took sooo long to update! So when the story reached over it's 15,000 views point, I decided that this had to be posted! Thank you to all who've kept on reading and supporting it! I thank you all.

I feel the chapter's a bit weak, but I hope it'll somehow make up for the lost time.

After the Storm

It must have been…I don't know. Hours? I'm not sure.

But eventually the overhung clouds overhead finally seem to whiten, and the churning waters became less choppy and more smooth. Then the whiteness of the clouds suddenly turned orange, and then I could see a disc of orange and yellow above.

It could only be the sun.

I don't believe it.

For the first time in my life, I can actually feel my legs like they were made of jelly. Not knowing what to do with that feeling, I allow them to bend down until I sat down on the wet wood of the deck, my hands still clasping the rail in a death grip. I'm sure that if I weren't a ghost, they'd be bone white at the knuckles and cramped beyond belief.

I then allowed myself to fall almost back against the ship's wheel, one hand still clutching the rail in a near death grip while the other plopped down onto the deck beside me. My head lolled back where I was partially looking up at the helm's barrel drum with its tiller ropes, up towards the foremast and pass that to the sky with the thinning clouds were giving way to an orange sky.

How in the world did we survive that?

That hurricane was a nightmare come to life with its high waves and waterspouts—yes waterspouts! Never saw anything more terrifying in my life, expect for the 9/11 attacks.

Oh man…

I felt a wave of relief coming from behind me, and then I heard a wet heavy thump as if something hefty had just been dropped onto the deck.

I turned my head slightly and saw Edward was now sitting down on the helm's platform, his back half-pressed against wheel. He was leaning forward heavily, almost like he was being weighed down the wetness of his leather armor. The sea water would most likely make the leather heavier than it was when dry. But I knew it was more likely exhaustion that was weighing him, not the armor, for his head hung between his shoulders, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands hung limp between them.

He wasn't in pain either. I don't feel any tall-tale pain echoes that would have told me if he was. But waves of both pure relief and sheer disbelief were coming off him like a cascade and falling right into me, echoing all over my mind and body.

I guess…

I guess he's as shocked as I am for having survived the hurricane, and relieved that we did.

"Let's outrun this hurricane" he had said. I guess some part of him did not really believe he would, even though everything else about him—his posture, his attitude, the control of his emotions. It all showed marks of a degree of confidence and control I wouldn't expect out of someone like him.

His whole character before he faced that storm—heck even during the storm—was so different to the swash-bugger I've been having to deal with since Cape Bonavista.

Idiotic, reckless, and greedy.

All of sudden assertive, in-control…a true Captain.

It was almost as if he had suddenly become two completely different men.

And…

I'm not sure…but…

…

Did that storm somehow show me what he is truly capably of?

I don't know…

…I just don't know…

How long we sat there in what might as well be called a stunned silence, I have no idea at all, but it must have been some time since the sun seemed to be a little lower in the sky then I remember. But whatever the time was, eventually, I saw out the corner of my eye that Edward's head had rose and he was sitting upright more. He looked around the ship's bow, mainly looking at the slight destruction I think. I'm sure how I didn't notice but it's covered in wooden slinters and small chucks of wood. I suspect that they came from either the masts or the rails since I only just now noticed that the rail under my one still-grasping hand is now badly chipped. My hand would be bleeding if not for the intangibly.

After holding on to the rail as if it were a lifeline for so long during that storm, I finally let go.

"Godfrey Lijah, we made it!" I heard Jack say from somewhere above. I know he had to be somewhere on the Main Mast, but I still couldn't see him. Still, it's amazing that we can still hear him.

"Indeed," I muttered as if to answer Jack's voice as it kept speaking on about something—the ship—being a mess. I scooted over a bit so I could stand up without bumping or brushing into anything, "Godfrey Lijah."

I don't even know what "Godfrey Lijah" is or what it's supposed to mean, but…who cares at this point. We're alive…

…

They're alive…

By the time I got to my feet, Edward was already up and walking around a bit. From the looks of it, he was a doing a quick scan of the damage the ship obtained from the hurricane, which is now slowly headed to the northeast, away from us, thank goodness. I doubt the ship can handle Round Two until it gets some major repairs.

From one of the stairs, the mate was rejoining us—well, rejoining Edward as far as he's concerned. I think he had gone to check to see if anyone had gotten hurt, but I'm not sure. I was reeling from two kind of relief and disbelief, my own and Edward's, when he said something and then left his…"post" I'll call it.

Like Edward and everything and everyone else, the mate was soaked with sea water. His thin shirt clung to his body, giving me a perfect outline of his impressive heavyset abs. And somehow, his tan-yellow scarf headband, now as drenched as his clothes, was still wrapped around his bald head.

"By God, we pulled this one straight from the teeth of Neptune…" Edward said to the mate, who gave a slight tilt of the head in agreement. Edward's voice betrayed none of the weariness I could feel coming of him.

Funny…

"Teeth of Neptune" is close to what I had called that hurricane.

Seeing that he was coming to stand by the mate, who was unknowingly standing to the right of me, I moved out of Edward's way, walking through the mate to step onto the stairs behind him, ignoring the sound of static when I passed through the dark-skinned man. I turned around just in time to see Edward extend his hand toward the mate in the form of offering a handshake.

"I'm Edward," he greeted, properly.

Ah, right. Because their Spanish capturers didn't want them speaking to one another, they never did introduce themselves to one another.

The mate took Edward's hand without hesitation and shook it firmly.

"Much thanks for your aid back there," Edward added, sounding as genuinely grateful as I could feel.

"Adéwalé," the mate said in return.

Adéwalé…?

Name certainly sounds African-like. Maybe he really is African born, instead of American born?

Ah, well, it doesn't matter. I now have a name, a pronounceable one for my English, so I don't have to keep referring Adéwalé as "The Mate" anymore.

"Ever been to Nassau, Adéwalé?" Edward asked.

"Not yet," Adéwalé answered.

Nassau?

Don't think I ever heard of the place. Nothing comes to mind at the name.

Then I noticed Edward was still checking the ship for damage. He was staring at something over the port side of ship. Curious, I leaned over the stair rail to see—

Geez!

That's a lot of big…not quite a hole, but…very large dents in the ship's port side. One of them looks so deep that if it had been couple more centimeters inward, we'd be looking at a breach. Luckily that one is far above the waterline, but I'd hate for that to get caught in another storm or a battle with an enemy ship; for any weak point in the hull, especially one that big and noticeable, could easily spell disaster for the ship.

I gave an unheard-by-everyone-but-me amazed whistle at the sight.

How in the world are they gonna fix that?

"By God," Edward exclaimed to Adéwalé, "She took some knocks, didn't she?"

She sure did, though I wouldn't call that sort of damage a "knock" personally. I can remember the ship being fired at and the way it jolted and shuddered under the force of those cannonballs. We're lucky to still be floating as it is.

Still…

I have to admit the El Dorado, despite its wooden structure, which I feared was easily breakable, is actually quite a tough ship.

Who knew?

"I think I'll keep her," Edward said to Adéwalé, his admiration for the ship echoing my own.

Then he turned around on his heel and resumed what I'll call "Captain Mode."

"All hands aft, Lads!" he called, returning to the wheel, "We're taking this one home!"

With a sigh of relief, I allowed myself to plop down on the stairs and checked the remaining time on the session.

Ugh…after all that, I'm still not finished…

It's funny how after spending two sessions bored to death, I just want this one to be over. A drastic escape from the hold of an enemy ship, to freeing prisoners on the other enemy ships, to capturing and seizing an enemy ship, then escaping the fleet of enemy ships in a hurricane, and somehow surviving the said hurricane…

Yeah, I think I've had about enough excitement for one session…

…Little did I know that it was not quite over yet…

Nor did I know the dramatic and unexpected events that would follow after that would change me…

Forever…

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