English Trading Embassy, Friday 13th June, 1716, 9:32am.

Governor Lockett paced between the giant, delicately-crafted and carved mahogany desks, upturning several spindly green-leather studded chairs in his wake. He blustered around the room like an angry tornado, throwing his hands up and shaking them in the air in rage and annoyance, his silvery-white wig knocked askew by his wild erratic movements. His face glowed a violent shade of red underneath his pale powered skin, and his maroon-coloured coat did nothing to tone down his alarming complexion. One had the feeling he was like a boiling kettle, steaming and hissing, with its lid ready to fly off at any given moment. Lockett finally ceased his blustering to slam down a solid fist on a nearby desk, rattling the marble bust of the ancient Roman general Gaius Marius, and shaking the dust off the heavy yellowed tomes that rested in the wall-to-wall bookcase.

"Lieutenant Commander Davis, this simply isn't good enough, and you know it! I refuse to stand for it, as does the rest of the entire British Government!"

The seated Lieutenant Commander looked unruffled at the Governor's outburst, gazing up unperturbed at the domineering ogre bearing down over him. He raised one unamused, sceptical eyebrow and replied, "Governor Lockett. I am aware of the nuisance that this peculiar…superstition has caused, but there is hardly anything I can do about the matter. The sailors refuse to set sail on a Friday. It is an age-old superstition that I feel will never be completed eradicated from their hearts or minds. The British Traders Association will just have to cope with delayed shipments, or else make to set sail on a Thursday or Saturday."

The Governor took a momentous effort to try to contain his anger and speak calmly. Gritting his crooked yellowed teeth in a tight grimace, he continued, "What I don't understand, sir, is why they refuse to set sail in the first place. Surely you can easily recruit other souls that would be happy to leave port on a Friday."

Davis rolled his eyes in impatience, "My good Governor; you'll find no other men willing to set sail on a Friday. 'Tis a sailors superstition that they all adhere to. The good Lord Jesus died on a Friday, and they, being god-fearing men, are not willing to take any more chances on the open ocean than what they already do. They believe Friday is a cursed day to sail, and they're not going to risk the wrath of God on an already perilous journey. Don't cause added stress and discomfort to them. My advice to you remains the same; don't make them commit a sin in their eyes and the eyes of God. They won't leave port on a Friday, 'cept on pain of death. My sailors are good, honest, hardworking men; don't ask it of them. There are six other days in the week they will anxiously set sail on. They'll bear any other work without complaint, but they won't sail today."

Governor Lockett's tawny eyes narrowed in fury, and he leaned down on hairy forearms so his face was at the Lieutenant Commander's eye level. "I have a very important shipment that must reach North Africa by next week," He hissed softly, "You will set sail today, Davis, or tomorrow you will find all your precious ships will be reduced nothing more than burning hulks of charred wood and cindered ash, wallowing pitifully at the dockside. Then where will you and your precious men and shipping company be, Lieutenant Commander?"

The Lieutenant Commander glared at the Governor for several moments, "Are you threatening me, Governor? If so, I will gladly take my business elsewhere."

Now it was the Governor's turn to chuckle and raise an impatient eyebrow, "Don't you see, Davis? I stand here before you, not as Governor Lockett, but as spokesperson for the entire English Trading Embassy. We are sick and tired of delayed shipments, costly docking fees and prolonged voyages, all caused by foolish sailor superstitions and peasant poppy-cock. Today, we end this tradition once and for all. Your sailors will set the precedent for all other voyages, and set the example to all other sailors. The ship they will sail on is specially commissioned, and its departure has been heavily publicised for weeks lead up to today. It will sail today, and it will quash all rumours of Friday and its alleged stigma. Understand? Do not make a fool of me and the English Trading Embassy in front of the entire world, Davis. If this ship does not leave port today, no ship of yours will ever leave a British port again. I will seize possession of your shipping company and I will lay-off all your cowardly, indolent and insolent crew. So on pain of death, your sailors will sail today, or they never sail again. Do I have your word, Davis?"

There was a pause of many minutes before finally the Lieutenant Commander spoke, "Aye."

Governor Lockett rocked back on his haunches and stood up once more, satisfied. "Come now, Lieutenant Commander. Let us take a leisurely carriage down to the dockside to see off the long-awaited ship. We don't want to disappoint our public, now do we?" Lockett beamed before cheerfully striding out of the door.

The Lieutenant Commander said nothing, and silently exited the room.

The handsome carriage thundered through the streets, parting the assembled crowd who had gathered to see off the new ship, so well publicised in the local paper. As the Lieutenant Commander stepped off the carriage, he squinted through the sunlight, peering up at the impressive towering ship moored beside the pier. In spite of the feeling of foreboding that flooded over him in the soundless carriage-ride to the docks, he was awed by the ship's sheer magnitude and craftsmanship. Although he had been bullied and blackmailed into providing crew for the voyage, he still felt a sense of pride that his crew were serving on a ship as prestigious as the one before him. The crew would forgive him later, when they released the choice he had to make.

The Governor stepped out of the carriage and nodded at the ship, "Beautiful, isn't she?" He smirked.

"Aye." Davis replied, "What's her name?"

Lockett grinned even wider, "The HMS Friday." Davis spun around to look Lockett in the eye, stunned. Seeing the smug and conceited smile playing over the Governor's lips, Davis turned back to the ship in front of him, straining over the heads of the crowd to read the ship's name. Sure enough, stencilled in gold copperplate was the title, 'HMS FRIDAY.' He turned back to the Governor.

"You bastard. You absolute bastard."

"You like it?" The Governor grinned, "I told you that your crew would be participating in a very important public notice; a sort of experiment. If your crew set sail on Friday, on a ship built on a Friday and named Friday, captained by a James Friday, and their voyage is safe and successful; well then, that makes that superstition null and void. Then we can set sail on Friday's all we like from this day onward. If the voyage isn't successful…" Here Lockett grinned again, "Then God have mercy on their souls."

Lieutenant Commander Davis watched in stony silence as the HMS Friday pulled out of the dock and disappeared from the harbour.

The HMS Friday was never heard from again.

That next month, the English Trading Embassy was attacked by a rogue pirate ship.

The building was fired upon in broad daylight, its cannons shattering the sandstone structure and pulverising the entire establishment. Governor Lockett was one of the many killed. Witnesses swore the ship was covered in a scarlet, burning flame; a fire that never died, and could be felt by all who set eyes on it, smouldering in the harbour.

A ship straight out of Hell itself, damned into ever-lasting flames.

Its name:

THE BLACK FRIDAY.

Hello to my motley crew! Woo-hoo: new ship! Incidentally – this story is true. The characters aren't, but the Navy did build a ship for that very purpose; to dispel the rumours surrounding the 'curse of Friday.' It was named Friday, sailed by Friday, etc. It was lost at sea, and no-one knows what happened to it. Maybe the Captain decided to play a little joke and buggered off to the Bahama's with the rest of the crew and had a holiday; I don't know. But it's now known as the 'Curse of the Friday.' I was going to describe the ship in further detail, but I'll do that later. They'll be plenty of time for that… muahahaha.

So, I went to some University open day today. I'm seriously looking into some English courses; maybe even creative writing. I'll team it with some other course, because I'm worried about whether a career in writing is enough to pay all the bills. I mean, it's like acting; you're either Hollywood standard, earning millions, or nobody knows you and you're starving in the streets. And I like chocolate too much to starve. So a dual degree is looking like the go. The only blergh thing about it is that they only took 12 people into the course last year. In the whole metropolis of this city, they took 12 people (!). I mean, I get hauled off my peaceful little farm and thrust into the chaotic world of the city because there's so many more 'options' than there is in the sticks. Options; my hiney-ho! 12 people! It's a disgrace! (And thus ends my rant for the day. Don't mind me; I'm just annoyed that there's no way I'll get into that course. 12 people!)

DCoD – Norrington, hey? I must remember to put him in the story somewhere. He's just not a character I can relate to easily, that's all. He's so bloody uptight, stuffy and moralistic. Well, he was in the first movie, and that's what I'll be basing him on. As you all know, I was less-than-impressed with the second movie. Disney; shame on you. The third movie better be…(insert really impressive big word that means, 'really, really good and explosively mind-blowing with an elaborate plot, believable characters and hilarious high-jinks, excellent script and really good special effects').

Hippolytos – Yay! You're back! Hope your vacation was good, and then some. An extra big, chocolate-chip coated cookie for you, because you reviewed lots of chapters :) I actuallythought you mightn't like these chapters, because there's not very much action. This chapter isn't much better; I'm setting the scene again (I know, I know - a-gain; sheesh, is that all this girl knows how to do?). But it's for a good cause: evil devil-spawn ship. And aww shucks – my humble little FF isn't that good. I just write it in my spare time to combat the boring analytical essay-structure that my high-school subjects ask from me; creativity stops me from going mad.