Chapter 1: The Ghost Ship
What was the point of living the life of a ghost if you weren't one? That
was the reason for the return trip to the Isla de Meurta – one couldn't
live the immortal life of pain that one deserved, on a ship that never made
berth, if one wasn't already dead. Everyone tried to talk him out of it,
her especially, but he wouldn't listen. He gave up the few things that made
him feel human, that made him feel alive, because he didn't deserve them.
But the trip had been different than he'd planned, and he'd gotten more out
of the bargain than he could've hoped.
The Pearl was a good ship, always strong, always reliable. The mist never let it alone now, almost as though it could sense the hopelessness of the situation. It rose up from the bottom of the ocean, forming a thin layer of foam that stuck to your skin when you put your hand in the water, before turning into the mist and fog that encased the ship. It guided it, prayed upon it, served as a warning for all who came close. He may have been little better than a ghost, but he was still a pirate. He took the lives of men, men who had wives and children waiting somewhere, but he never touched a child. Never. No one deserved to suffer how he had, how he was still.
Along the shore of Tortuga, the mist rolled in, covering the beach, covering the houses. They all knew what it was, and they were all afraid, for there had been towns found with few survivors who had stayed, while their families and friends had run. Usually there would be a girl, about seventeen, with long dark hair and dark eyes, sometimes with dark colouring, who would tell the tale, how she was offered the choice to save the one she loved.
The men who'd fallen asleep along the shore, waiting for their ship to come in, woke with a bone-chilling fear they couldn't understand. The mist was thick by then, visibility almost zero, and they panicked, running around until they got as far into Tortuga as they could. The ship took its time getting there, but he didn't care. He could wait – he had eternity to wait.
~~~~~
The bar carried a similar energy that happened when a new ship reached Tortuga, but this energy was different. This energy was fear in its rawest form, and he knew he should move like everyone else. To run, to hide, to get away from the fear that was creeping slowly and steadily towards the center of Tortuga. But he couldn't. He had to stay where he was, for the same reason he couldn't go back. It was an unchanging circle, that no one could break but himself, but he didn't have the energy, or the will, to break it.
There were no screams when the door slowly opened, and the mist rolled in, but everyone looked at each other with a fear in their eyes so deep it was unmistakable. He didn't move, didn't flinch, but he raised his gaze to the doorway, waiting. It didn't take long before a figure appeared, a silhouette at first, a man standing straight, hands on hips, his jacket and hat throwing his figure into obscurity. It all seemed too familiar, but he refused to let the memories in – it would only cause him too much pain. Without surrendering to the fear that threatened to send him into unconsciousness, he dropped his gaze back to the drink on the bar, and took a swig.
The man waited until the mist had died down, or perhaps it was the mist that cleared for him, before stepping forwards again. The man's face ticked a memory in his mind, but again, he pushed it away. There would be no recognition, no link to the past that haunted him. "What? No one out t' welcome me home?" the man asked, and the crowd cowered in fear. The sheer power of the stranger was radiating from him in waves, causing the panic that was steadily moving through the locals. Finally, only one person remained between the township and the stranger, and he didn't have the will to move, to save anyone. There was nothing left in him.
"There's no one to stop you," he said finally, lifting his gaze again, only to look into familiar eyes. A girl's face flashed before his eyes, the same dark eyes that he looked at now. The pain that cut across his heart was so intense that it took his breath away, leaving him gasping, and when he looked down, he saw the stranger with his love's eyes had a sword poised to kill him. "Do I know you?" the stranger asked, tilting the sword so it cut into his chest the slightest bit. "No. No one knows me," came the blunt answer. It was almost as though it were someone else talking – of course no one from his past would remember him, he didn't remember them.
"You sure? Have I threatened you before now? In another town per chance?" the stranger insisted. Again, he shook his head. "You wouldn't have. I haven't left here for two, three years. No one knows me, no one bothers with me." His voice didn't sound sorry, or sad even, it just stated a fact.
The Captain, for there was nothing else he could be, removed the sword from the young man's chest and stepped back. It was an obvious challenge, and he had every intention of following it through. Maybe, if he lost, then he wouldn't have to find the courage to pull the trigger. Standing, he removed his own sword from the sheath at his hip, and swung it up to meet the Captain's.
The swords met with a clang, and the crowd jumped. The Captain grinned, "This is more like it. I haven't had a good battle for ages – let's see how high you can jump," he stated, before swinging the blade at head height. It was a calculated move, but it didn't pay off, because there was nothing to connect to when it should have taken the other's head off.
"You've some skill with a blade. Who taught you?" the Captain asked, and the other grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes, "Someone from my past. Plus I've added a few things of my own," he added, and the Captain laughed, still blocking the blows as though they were naught but flies. "Like what? Bleeding?" The other didn't react, just dropped to one knee, and swung the sword straight at the Captain's knees. He managed to jump back in time to be away from the blade point, but he was obviously taken by surprise.
The crowd watched with bated breath as the fight continued, both parties still talking as they did so. While the younger man was a skilled swordsman, the Captain hadn't earned his reputation from nothing. He was almost unbeatable. Stepping up onto the bar, the fight continued. When the younger had nowhere to go, but up, he did. The fight continued into the rafters of the building, the clanging of swords almost drowning out the conversation.
The Captain paused mid-step, and laughed, "I've fought like this before, a while ago. You're definite I haven't threatened you before?" he asked, moving to block another blow from the other. "Positive," came the answer. Moving to try and step backwards, the Captain realised he'd been backed into a corner. He stepped down onto the bar, picked up the cup of ale that was still sitting where the younger man had been, and threw it into the other's face.
"You cheated!" yelled the other, dropping his sword in an effort to stop the ale seeping into his eyes. "Pirate," the Captain answered, and suddenly something clicked. "I know where I've seen you – twenty-five years ago, the blacksmith at Port Royal." The younger man shook his head, "I've never been to Port Royal. It must have been someone else."
The Captain nodded to himself, picking up the discarded sword. "No, can't have been you – you're not old enough. It must have been..." he trailed off as his thoughts took him into his own world. Suddenly, though, he looked up. Their eyes met, and the Captain's turned dark, almost black. "You. Nine- cat. You were with... Bella... when she... the Hand of Midas...."
The pain struck so suddenly, he hadn't time to brace himself. The Captain didn't move, only watched as the young man struggled. It cut across his chest with a blinding white hot slash, as memories of flames, and a girl standing amongst them flashed before his eyes. He fell to his knees, grabbing his head in an effort to drive the images away. It was the worst kind of torture, to see the one you loved, more than anything in the world, meet their end in a fiery grave, over and over again, with the knowledge that you could've done something to save them.
When the pain subsided enough for him to stand shakily, he saw the Captain advancing towards the crowd, both swords in his hands. One of the younger girls fell against another and started to sob uncontrollably. He shook his head sharply, but the images wouldn't leave.
~Flashback~ Louisa dropped to her knees, half fallen onto the bed, unable to stop the tears. It may have been almost a year since the death of her friend, but she felt the loss each day. Jamie opened the door, and ran to his wife – "You can't go back, Cannonfire... she's gone... you can't bring her back by crying...." Will looked in through the door; Louisa had Jamie to lean on, and Jamie had Louisa. He had no one. ~End Flashback~
He steeled himself, and yelled, "Killing them won't stop the nightmares." The Captain stopped, "What do you know about the nightmares?" The younger man refused to back down, "I have them too. But mine would be worse, because I have to live with the fact that I was there; that I saw everything."
The Captain sheathed his sword, threw the borrowed one into the pillar at the bar, and turned slowly. "Maybe I won't kill them, but what if I kill *you*? After all, you were the cause of her death." He didn't flinch – he knew it was true. "So kill me. I want to be able to sleep again – tell me about her. How she came to have such a connection to her father, how she had such a love for a place she hated. Only you can tell me, because only you were there, then." Something was wrong in that sentence, but it made its mark on the Captain.
"You don't even remember who I am, how can you expect me to remember twenty five years ago?" the Captain asked, and he smiled, "I have your name in my mind somewhere, as do I have what happened, but I don't want to remember. I want to find a way to gain the courage to end it all, to leave this life behind and join her. I've got nothing here. Nothing at all."
The Pearl was a good ship, always strong, always reliable. The mist never let it alone now, almost as though it could sense the hopelessness of the situation. It rose up from the bottom of the ocean, forming a thin layer of foam that stuck to your skin when you put your hand in the water, before turning into the mist and fog that encased the ship. It guided it, prayed upon it, served as a warning for all who came close. He may have been little better than a ghost, but he was still a pirate. He took the lives of men, men who had wives and children waiting somewhere, but he never touched a child. Never. No one deserved to suffer how he had, how he was still.
Along the shore of Tortuga, the mist rolled in, covering the beach, covering the houses. They all knew what it was, and they were all afraid, for there had been towns found with few survivors who had stayed, while their families and friends had run. Usually there would be a girl, about seventeen, with long dark hair and dark eyes, sometimes with dark colouring, who would tell the tale, how she was offered the choice to save the one she loved.
The men who'd fallen asleep along the shore, waiting for their ship to come in, woke with a bone-chilling fear they couldn't understand. The mist was thick by then, visibility almost zero, and they panicked, running around until they got as far into Tortuga as they could. The ship took its time getting there, but he didn't care. He could wait – he had eternity to wait.
~~~~~
The bar carried a similar energy that happened when a new ship reached Tortuga, but this energy was different. This energy was fear in its rawest form, and he knew he should move like everyone else. To run, to hide, to get away from the fear that was creeping slowly and steadily towards the center of Tortuga. But he couldn't. He had to stay where he was, for the same reason he couldn't go back. It was an unchanging circle, that no one could break but himself, but he didn't have the energy, or the will, to break it.
There were no screams when the door slowly opened, and the mist rolled in, but everyone looked at each other with a fear in their eyes so deep it was unmistakable. He didn't move, didn't flinch, but he raised his gaze to the doorway, waiting. It didn't take long before a figure appeared, a silhouette at first, a man standing straight, hands on hips, his jacket and hat throwing his figure into obscurity. It all seemed too familiar, but he refused to let the memories in – it would only cause him too much pain. Without surrendering to the fear that threatened to send him into unconsciousness, he dropped his gaze back to the drink on the bar, and took a swig.
The man waited until the mist had died down, or perhaps it was the mist that cleared for him, before stepping forwards again. The man's face ticked a memory in his mind, but again, he pushed it away. There would be no recognition, no link to the past that haunted him. "What? No one out t' welcome me home?" the man asked, and the crowd cowered in fear. The sheer power of the stranger was radiating from him in waves, causing the panic that was steadily moving through the locals. Finally, only one person remained between the township and the stranger, and he didn't have the will to move, to save anyone. There was nothing left in him.
"There's no one to stop you," he said finally, lifting his gaze again, only to look into familiar eyes. A girl's face flashed before his eyes, the same dark eyes that he looked at now. The pain that cut across his heart was so intense that it took his breath away, leaving him gasping, and when he looked down, he saw the stranger with his love's eyes had a sword poised to kill him. "Do I know you?" the stranger asked, tilting the sword so it cut into his chest the slightest bit. "No. No one knows me," came the blunt answer. It was almost as though it were someone else talking – of course no one from his past would remember him, he didn't remember them.
"You sure? Have I threatened you before now? In another town per chance?" the stranger insisted. Again, he shook his head. "You wouldn't have. I haven't left here for two, three years. No one knows me, no one bothers with me." His voice didn't sound sorry, or sad even, it just stated a fact.
The Captain, for there was nothing else he could be, removed the sword from the young man's chest and stepped back. It was an obvious challenge, and he had every intention of following it through. Maybe, if he lost, then he wouldn't have to find the courage to pull the trigger. Standing, he removed his own sword from the sheath at his hip, and swung it up to meet the Captain's.
The swords met with a clang, and the crowd jumped. The Captain grinned, "This is more like it. I haven't had a good battle for ages – let's see how high you can jump," he stated, before swinging the blade at head height. It was a calculated move, but it didn't pay off, because there was nothing to connect to when it should have taken the other's head off.
"You've some skill with a blade. Who taught you?" the Captain asked, and the other grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes, "Someone from my past. Plus I've added a few things of my own," he added, and the Captain laughed, still blocking the blows as though they were naught but flies. "Like what? Bleeding?" The other didn't react, just dropped to one knee, and swung the sword straight at the Captain's knees. He managed to jump back in time to be away from the blade point, but he was obviously taken by surprise.
The crowd watched with bated breath as the fight continued, both parties still talking as they did so. While the younger man was a skilled swordsman, the Captain hadn't earned his reputation from nothing. He was almost unbeatable. Stepping up onto the bar, the fight continued. When the younger had nowhere to go, but up, he did. The fight continued into the rafters of the building, the clanging of swords almost drowning out the conversation.
The Captain paused mid-step, and laughed, "I've fought like this before, a while ago. You're definite I haven't threatened you before?" he asked, moving to block another blow from the other. "Positive," came the answer. Moving to try and step backwards, the Captain realised he'd been backed into a corner. He stepped down onto the bar, picked up the cup of ale that was still sitting where the younger man had been, and threw it into the other's face.
"You cheated!" yelled the other, dropping his sword in an effort to stop the ale seeping into his eyes. "Pirate," the Captain answered, and suddenly something clicked. "I know where I've seen you – twenty-five years ago, the blacksmith at Port Royal." The younger man shook his head, "I've never been to Port Royal. It must have been someone else."
The Captain nodded to himself, picking up the discarded sword. "No, can't have been you – you're not old enough. It must have been..." he trailed off as his thoughts took him into his own world. Suddenly, though, he looked up. Their eyes met, and the Captain's turned dark, almost black. "You. Nine- cat. You were with... Bella... when she... the Hand of Midas...."
The pain struck so suddenly, he hadn't time to brace himself. The Captain didn't move, only watched as the young man struggled. It cut across his chest with a blinding white hot slash, as memories of flames, and a girl standing amongst them flashed before his eyes. He fell to his knees, grabbing his head in an effort to drive the images away. It was the worst kind of torture, to see the one you loved, more than anything in the world, meet their end in a fiery grave, over and over again, with the knowledge that you could've done something to save them.
When the pain subsided enough for him to stand shakily, he saw the Captain advancing towards the crowd, both swords in his hands. One of the younger girls fell against another and started to sob uncontrollably. He shook his head sharply, but the images wouldn't leave.
~Flashback~ Louisa dropped to her knees, half fallen onto the bed, unable to stop the tears. It may have been almost a year since the death of her friend, but she felt the loss each day. Jamie opened the door, and ran to his wife – "You can't go back, Cannonfire... she's gone... you can't bring her back by crying...." Will looked in through the door; Louisa had Jamie to lean on, and Jamie had Louisa. He had no one. ~End Flashback~
He steeled himself, and yelled, "Killing them won't stop the nightmares." The Captain stopped, "What do you know about the nightmares?" The younger man refused to back down, "I have them too. But mine would be worse, because I have to live with the fact that I was there; that I saw everything."
The Captain sheathed his sword, threw the borrowed one into the pillar at the bar, and turned slowly. "Maybe I won't kill them, but what if I kill *you*? After all, you were the cause of her death." He didn't flinch – he knew it was true. "So kill me. I want to be able to sleep again – tell me about her. How she came to have such a connection to her father, how she had such a love for a place she hated. Only you can tell me, because only you were there, then." Something was wrong in that sentence, but it made its mark on the Captain.
"You don't even remember who I am, how can you expect me to remember twenty five years ago?" the Captain asked, and he smiled, "I have your name in my mind somewhere, as do I have what happened, but I don't want to remember. I want to find a way to gain the courage to end it all, to leave this life behind and join her. I've got nothing here. Nothing at all."