(Disclaimer: not mine.)
Paradise of the Mind
"Foundation. Ten letters. F-O-U-N-D-A-T-I-O-N. Ten."
Ragetti couldn't keep himself from murmuring the words aloud as he played them over and over in his head. His mind always wandered when he carved his wood blocks, and the more he thought about that angry but educational retort, the odder it started to sound.
Last night's ordeal was nothing but a jumbled mess in the drifter's memory. All he knew was that he'd kept his eye fixed on those stars the entire time and had rowed like there'd been a devil on his tail until sunup. No sleep, no breathers. Nothing but paddling and praying.
It wasn't likely that he'd covered all of his lost ground yet, but Ragetti'd been too famished that morning to go any further. He'd finally sat his oar down and flopped backwards over the bench to rest on the longboat's floor, ready to take in a well-enough earned rest. It was somewhere between morning and afternoon right now, and the scrawny sailor still found himself curled up at the rear of his tiny vessel. Night was for traveling. Day was for sleeping and eating. That would be his strategy the rest of the voyage.
But even in his weary condition, Ragetti'd found some time for recreation in this strict schedule.
The wood carving was coming along nicely. He'd probably have the entire shape finished by night if he kept at his current pace. Smoothing out that splintery surface would be another story, but the pirate wasn't terribly concerned about that stage of the process yet. The only thing he had to work with was his knife, so he'd just have to settle for carving the figure while he was out here. Besides, there'd be plenty of tools for him to get his hands on once he found the Black Pearl again.
The mere mention of that ship's name brought another tune back to him. "'Oists the flags, 'oists the sails. Keeps 'is feet on the rails. In a pick, never fails. Finds a way, an' then prevails."
Ragetti's knife hand was moving faster as he mumbled. That song always made him feel like he was nearing the end of some long mission. It was enough to bring a trace of a smile back to his tired face.
"Never fights. Clever sot. Rather 'atch a shift plot, that 'e'll make up on the spot. Jack Sparrow. Where'd yeh go? Jack—"
WUMPH!
The startled buccaneer almost sprang up to the clouds as the longboat jerked and began bobbing up and down in the water. Something had bumped against its underside. His break rudely ended, Ragetti impulsively dropped his knife and carving onto his chest and splayed his spidery limps out to brace himself. The tiny boat continued rocking for a few more seconds, then another jolt shook it back up. This time however, the loud WUMPH! was followed by the dull scratch of something flat scraping across wood.
That bulging blue eye darted back and forth in utter terror. Something was swimming under the boat!
Ragetti was barely breathing as he flattened himself further against the floor planks. What could it be? It was big, no denying that, and it sounded like it had some sort of tail swinging along behind it. And it had to be pretty darn gutsy to come swimming right up to something as big and round as a longboat…
That was when he stopped breathing altogether.
"Sh…sh…shark?..."
WUMPH!
"Shark!"
He quickly stuffed his carving into his pocket and crawled onto the bench with his knife in hand. That had to be what it was! Floating alone in open water like this was practically an invitation to get eaten by one of those nasty fish! He might as well have been trailing a chain of sausages behind him!
Ragetti kept low and straddled the bench. The last place he wanted to be was on the bottom of the boat with only one layer of wood separating him from that sea monster. There was no sign of anything in the water around his vessel, which had the jittery man even more convinced that the danger was lurking directly below. For one horrible instant, he recalled the shark that'd attacked him after he'd fallen overboard near Pelegosto Island, and a part of him actually wondered if this was the same animal returning for another try.
A fourth bump set the boat teetering roughly again. Its passenger stifled a frightened squeal and clung to his bench for dear life. The suspense was twisting a horrendous knot in his stomach, one that made Ragetti want to spew out whatever crumbs of food were left inside him. He hadn't felt this terrible since Pintel'd told him about nearly shooting Rebecca back on Tortuga. The thought of that traumatic revelation immediately made the young man drop his head onto the bench, and despite his efforts to keep it at bay, the scene came rushing forward in his mind to start the torment all over again.
Don't know wot'll 'appen to the kid. Those had been Pintel's words. I don't 'fink she wants it. Prob'ly wouldn't 'urt it. Nah. She won't 'urt the baby. Not much. Maybe just ignore it, pretend it ain't there.
"Prob'ly wouldn't 'urt it," Ragetti repeated fearfully. His eyes were squeezed shut as his watery pursuer went on prodding the boat. "She won't 'urt the baby. Not much. She won't 'urt the baby. Pretend it ain't there…"
And just like that, the nightmare ended. It was like the creature beneath him had heard those nervous words and decided to follow them. As quickly as they'd started, the sharp nudges ceased, and the helpless longboat was left alone to bob gently in the water. Inside the vessel though, the terror was far from over.
"She won't 'urt the baby…she won't 'urt the baby…she won't 'urt the baby…"
Ragetti remained latched onto his bench as he continued repeating the phrase. His eyes were still clenched shut, and every bit of him was trembling from strain and fright. He hardly even noticed that his mystery assailant had gone away.
That bitter moment with Pintel wasn't the only one flashing before his eyes. That was just the candle that lit an entire room full of memories of his mother. All the times she'd left him standing outside by himself, all the times she'd screamed and cursed at him, all the times he'd watched her fall to the ground crying for some reason that he couldn't understand—every last one of those suppressed images was parading through his ringing head now.
The only thing Ragetti could think to do was roll off of the bench, and the jarring crash onto the boat's floor was like a pistol firing in his brain. His eyes snapped open at last, and for several seconds, he could only stare straight up at the blinding white sky. Then his fitful shaking resumed.
"Look what you made me say," he whimpered in an eerie echo of his mother's voice. "Look what you all made me do…"
…………………
It'd taken a while for Ragetti to convince himself that the shark—if that was in fact what the creature had been—was gone. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he'd picked up his oar again and decided to get a jump-start on that night's rowing. He still hadn't eaten anything yet; he wasn't sure he could handle another fish swimming by his boat anyway.
Fortunately, this second night's sunset showed him that he was still going the right way. That brought a small but much-welcomed sense of relief to the drifter, and he soon found himself cruising along and curiously observing the stars' reflections in the black night waters. If it wasn't for his growling stomach and parched throat, he might have really enjoyed the sight.
Sighing to himself, Ragetti pulled in his paddle and sat back. He might as well take a short rest while it was still early into night. That sparkling sky map wasn't going anywhere.
To tell the truth, the lanky pirate had never considered himself an expert at this type of navigation. He just knew that all those constellations up there were facing the same way tonight as they were last night, and that seemed to be working.
It'd taken him years to learn all the names of those figures when he was a lad: Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Draco, Hercules, Taurus, Orion, and his personal favorite, Canis Major.
Ragetti paused and blinked up at this last one. Canis Major, the "Greater Dog." It'd never looked like anything but an unfinished capital "Q" to him, but he'd sill always tried to piece together the mythical pooch from that handful of dots. No doubt, he'd only liked the constellation for its name, which was emphasized all the more by its brightest member Sirius the "Dog Star." For some reason, he found it unnerving to look at now. Canis Major: his former personal favorite.
He frowned and lowered his head to squint forward. At least that big hound in the sky gave him some light to work with. Under that silvery glow, he could see a good three or four ship lengths ahead. Ragetti gave the stars another glance for safe measure, then looked forward once more. Then he froze.
For the first time since he'd jumped ship and started this lonely odyssey, there was something visible on the horizon.
Ragetti snapped out of his trance when he realized that his boat was turning to the left; he was still holding the oar in the water on the starboard side. After promptly switching it over to his port side and straightening himself out, he crawled to the very front of the vessel for a better look at his discovery.
It was a ship. A dimly lit transport with two masts that was facing northeast. It didn't seem to be moving, and the only cause Ragetti could see for this was that it had no sails up.
No, wait. Its sails weren't missing. They were black!
There was no way to describe what went through the buccaneer's head right then. One second he was gawking stupidly with his mouth hanging open, then the next he was hopping about like a giddily deranged monkey and screaming his lungs out.
"MURTOGG! MULLROY!" The entire longboat was wobbling side-to-side as he waved his aching arms in the air. "MARTY! COTTON! CHARLOTTE!!"
The ship showed no sign of movement. Of course not! It'd take forever for something that big to come over here and pick up a puny boat like his! He'd have to be the one to cross the gap if he wanted to climb aboard the Black Pearl! Ragetti was still bouncing with excitement as he went back to rowing.
He'd found it! Honest to God, he'd found it! Forget Anchor's Edge! The Black Pearl herself was waiting for him now!
"I'm comin' mates! It's me, Rags! I'm comin'! Just 'old tight! Ha ha ha!"
A minute passed and the ship didn't seem to look any closer. The one-eyed drifter responded to this by only rowing faster. It wasn't until five minutes later, when the Pearl was still the exact same distance away, that his happy delirium started to fade.
He slowed to a stop and craned his neck to try and see the vessel more clearly. "…Charlotte?!" Then as a last cheery afterthought, he added, "Cap'n Berkley?"
The Black Pearl remained motionless and unresponsive. There wasn't even a flicker of light to signal that his ruckus had been heard. Then all at once, it vanished from sight.
Ragetti's jaw dropped again in shock. The Pearl was gone! Had it doused its lamps? Had a thick cloud suddenly passed over it? And then there was another, far more troubling question that part of him couldn't help but wonder: had it ever been there at all?
The very idea stung and made him lower his head nervously. The thin man swallowed back a whine of dread and squeezed his twitching hands together. Had he really just imagined seeing that ship? Sure, he'd had a couple trying episodes out here and he hadn't eaten or slept for two days, but he couldn't really be slipping that far already.
Could he?
"F-O-U-N-D-A-T-I-O-N. Ten letters…"
He had to calm down. Had to focus on something else. Carving maybe? His knife and wooden figure were out in an instant. Ragetti was about to put the two together then when he hesitated. Even with the moon and stars to light things up, it was hard to see the details of his creation.
The pirate's shaky hands hovered uncertainly. He'd worked too long on this figurine to chance ruining it, but what was he going to do instead?
His single eye instinctively wandered over to the inner side of the longboat, and he realized that he was literally surrounded by whittling material. The thought seemed daft at first, but what harm would it really do? A few scrapings off the top edges weren't going to start a leak. They certainly weren't going to slow the vessel down either. Why not try it?
Another harsh rumble from his gut was the last push Ragetti needed. He tucked his wood carving safely away and reached out to grip the edge of the boat. Then he brought up his knife and feverishly set to work.
"Driftin' along in me most recent plunder.
She's all what keeps me from sinkin' under.
Alone out at sea, I can't 'elps but wonder,
If this were also me most recent blunder…"
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(Soon to be updated!)
