Chapter 7 ATLANTIC OCEAN JULY 1677

A few years passed and Flying Dutchman had fully settled into her new job as the ferryman.

Britannia helped whenever she could but she had her hands full with matters in Britain.

France was being troublesome again and England needed all the help it could get.

Britannia spent hours in London speaking with members of Parliament on Naval Strategy.

Flying Dutchman couldn't imagine the patience involved, Politics was no place for the hot headed.

She knew that she would lose her stack if she had to take part in that.

Her thoughts turned back to reality when her senses picked up people in the water. Dead people.

She grimaced.

Her job wasn't one for the faint-hearted. Who could deal with seeing fresh bodies upon the sea and the occasional, sinking wreck?

Flying Dutchman sometimes did wish she could do more to save lives but that wasn't her job.

"She was to ferry the dead to the next world until the veil became too thick to travel through." As Britannia had told her the day she'd been commissioned into the Ancient's service.

Flying Dutchman closed her eyes, recalling that particular memory.

It was just after sunrise in the Locker. Flying Dutchman had been resting at her dock while Britannia went out during the night.

The old galleon sailed back in, triumphantly holding a pair of cod in her jaws.

"Nice catch!" Flying Dutchman called to her.

"Thanks." Britannia replied. "Took me forever. They just kept on swimming just out of my reach."

"Sometimes fish are too smart for their own good." Flying Dutchman said.

Britannia nodded her agreement.

"Here is yours." She said, setting the larger of the two down in front of her.

Flying Dutchman eyed the fish curiously. "Are you trying to get me fat?" She asked. "You always give me the bigger of the catch."

Britannia laughed. "Hardly, I just want you well fed." She said.

"I'm a quarter your size." Flying Dutchman said. "I don't need nearly as much as you do."

She nudged the fish back to her mentor.

"If you insist." Britannia shrugged and exchanged the two catches.

The two ate their breakfast in silence.

"How are those ribs healing up?" Britannia asked.

"They're still sore but I think they're alright." Flying Dutchman answered.

Britannia leaned over, touching her bow to her apprentice's side, feeling the injury.

"Well they seem to be healing well." She said. "But I think I might be able to speed up that process somewhat."

Flying Dutchman looked up. "Oh how?" She asked.

"I could channel the energy of my powers directly into the injury and use simple chemistry to help it heal faster." Britannia replied.

"Why couldn't you have done that earlier?" Flying Dutchman asked.

"My powers were not designed for this purpose. Focusing them to do such a task requires a lot of energy. I must be careful not to exceed my limit." Britannia replied.

"I see." Flying Dutchman nodded in understanding.

"Are you ready?" Britannia asked her.

"You're going to do it now?" She asked.

"Why not?" The older ship shrugged.

Flying Dutchman swallowed the last of her cod before replying "very well".

Britannia edged forward, pressing her prow against the bandaged section of Flying Dutchman's hull. Then she began to chant in Latin.

"Ut vulnus erit curaito. Ut vulnus erit Defaeco atque praevaricationem. Erit Libera! Erit Libera sinistra spiritus! Erit Libera! Erit Libera! I commodore!"

(Let these wounds be healed. Let these wounds be purged of their transgressions. Be free! Be free evil spirits! Be free! Be free! I command thee!)

White-blue light surrounded the galleon's hull, drawing itself towards Flying Dutchman's wounded section as if called by sirens.

"Close your eyes Dutchman." Britannia murmured calmly as the light intensified.

Dutchman had no trouble obeying that command. She'd already done so the moment the light began.

She thought she heard Britannia groan but she didn't dare look. The light was just too bright.

A strange feeling worked its way through her ribs, a tingling sensation like feeling was being lost, then returned.

The light faded gradually and when it'd gone altogether, Flying Dutchman opened her eyes.

She turned to look at Britannia, finding her mentor lying helplessly on her side.

Fear took over and forgetting about her injury she raced over as fast as she could.

"Britannia!" She cried nudging her. She got no response.

She tried several more times before her frantic calls seemed to reach the weakened ship.

"Ugh, Shadow…" Britannia groaned, her blue eyes flickering open.

Flying Dutchman froze. Britannia had never called her that before.

"I'm here." She replied gently, nuzzling her.

Britannia returned the gesture weakly.

"Your ribs Shadow, are they… healed?" She asked.

Flying Dutchman did a quick check. "All seems well." She replied.

"Good. It worked then." Britannia murmured, her eyes closing again.

Flying Dutchman nudged her harshly. "Hey, none of that!" She chided. "Talk to me! Are you alright?!"

"I'll be fine, just let me rest." Britannia sighed.

Flying Dutchman remembered what Britannia had said about healing taking a lot of her energy and suddenly felt guilty.

"You didn't have to do that." She said.

"No?" Britannia mused. "No perhaps not."

"Then why did you do it?" Flying Dutchman asked.

"You are my apprentice, you are under my protection. It's my job to keep you safe and well." Britannia replied.

"That's my duty, do you know what yours is?" She asked.

"To ferry the souls of the dead." Flying Dutchman replied.

"To ferry the souls of the dead until the veil becomes too thick for even you to travel through." Britannia corrected gently.

"There will come a time where you will find that the barrier will be impossible to cross and when that time comes, the Ancient will release you from your duties and you will be free to join them."

Flying Dutchman nodded, understanding perfectly.

"And you?" She asked.

"I will remain by your side until my time comes." Britannia replied. "I can only hope that you will have learned to survive in this world without me when that day arrives."

"You won't die Britannia." Flying Dutchman growled.

"I may be ageless but I'm not immortal." Britannia replied. "Whether it is by disease or war, one day I will fall. These are changing times, my dear apprentice and one day, I will fight a battle I cannot win."

"I'll stay with you!" Flying Dutchman blurted.

Britannia turned one curious eye on her apprentice.

"I'll stay with you until the end when that day comes. I won't leave your side." Flying Dutchman promised.

"Thank you Shadow, you don't know how much that means to me to hear you say that." Britannia murmured.

Flying Dutchman nuzzled her gently. "Just rest Britannia." She begged. "I'll be here when you wake up."

A sigh escaped the tired old galleon and she closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

Flying Dutchman was shaking from her memories when the longboat, filled with the dead, pulled up alongside and one by one its passengers filed off.

The names were read off. "All present and accounted for." One man, Flying Dutchman assumed him to be the First Mate, reported at last.

Captain Vandecker came forward. "I'm Captain Mario Vandecker of the Flying Dutchman." He said.

"Captain Davy Jones of the Illigous out of Tortuga." A crusty blonde replied coming forward to take Vandecker's offered hand.

"A very nice ship you have here, captain." He said.

"The best I've sailed." Vandecker replied with a fond smile at his ship.

Flying Dutchman held her head high despite her rapidly blushing face.

"Well she's a beauty that's for sure." Jones agreed, giving the rail a pat.

Flying Dutchman giggled despite herself, feeling a bit giddy with all the attention she was receiving.

"So I am to assume that me and my crew are dead as it were?" Jones asked.

"Aye. We found your bodies floating in the wreckage." Vandecker replied.

Jones closed his cerulean blue eyes and sighed. "Well, I guess it wasn't entirely unexpected." He said.

He looked at Vandecker. "What may I do to assist your efforts captain?" He asked.

"There's really no need…" Vandecker began.

Jones held up a pacifying hand to stop him.

"No, but I am a sailor at heart. I am not yet willing to settle down in a peaceful afterlife. My men however, are free to disembark if they wish." He said.

"How long have you sailed the seas Captain Jones?" Vandecker asked.

"20 years. First with the British, then after a stint in privateering I went all the way and stole a ship to Tortuga. That was 7 years ago, haven't looked back since." Jones replied.

"I see." Vandecker mused. "Dutchman, what do you think?" He asked. "Should we let this fine young man serve as crew?"

"He's an experienced seaman. To lose such knowledge as he possesses would be a sin in my book sir." Flying Dutchman replied.

"There's your answer then." Vandecker smiled. "I myself sail from Tortuga with a fresh crew, but I lack a loyal first mate."

"I would be honored captain." Jones said with a slight bow.

"Then join Quartermaster Mattas at the wheel and check the bearing First Mate Jones." Vandecker ordered.

"Aye captain." Jones replied and leaped to it.

"Is everyone on board?" Vandecker asked his ship.

"Aye, all present and accounted for sir." Flying Dutchman replied.

"Good, then sail with the sun, my girl." Vandecker ordered.

With a cry of joy, Flying Dutchman sailed forward, now with a full deck of passengers, and a full crew.