John sat on the side of the whaler, feet dipped in the cool water, a makeshift fishing line held in his hands. Two other rowboats idled close, the languid state of their crews suggesting a repose of some time. Despite the cool November morning air, the crews lashed together their coats to form rudimentary sunshades, under which most of them laid.
"Three days sitting upon this boat," grumbled an older member, "baking in the sun."
"Some people pay good money for this," John said in reply. He had a handsome boyish face with strawberry blond hair, patted back so as not to block his vision. A wispy beard struggled to grow, attempts at demonstrating manhood not yet fully achieved, on a face newly weathered by the sun.
"Ay, John-B," came the reply, from the man before. "But not from his majesty's navy, that's for sure."
Dwarfing over top of the boats, three men-of-war clustered close together. Anchored around the circle of water where the whalers waited, the ships of the line created a triangle between them, ready in case of attack from any direction. On the sides facing each other, hawsers dropped over into the water, miles of thick, heavy rope attached to dragged chains diving deep below. With sails stowed, and the wind becalmed, the Union Jacks that listlessly hung from the stern of each ship mirrored the general condition of the crews.
The only break in the tension came from bubbles emerging from below the surface. John watched as the bubbles heralded the crowning of heads, men emerging from the depths of the ocean's womb. Each divers exhaled deeply upon reaching air. John had gotten used to their sound of the release of pressure from the deep. Each day, the ropes went down, along with the divers. At the end of the day, the ropes came back up, and the divers would fall exhausted on the decks.
He felt for them, the long work down in the cold depths. His compatriots, sitting long days in the hot sun, not so much. They slept under the makeshift sunshade, pressed up against a long bundle the length of the rowboat.
The crew on each of the ships came and went about their daily business. None of the sailors lingered long at the side to watch the dive site.
That is, except for the hoodoo man.
John had watched the man throughout the past few days. He never appeared to sleep, always watching over the side, his eyes always focused on an unknowable object deep in the water. Despite the sun and its heat, the dark-skinned man wore a black dress coat, never removing his frock. He also wore a strange tall, flat-crowned hat.
"The hoodoo man has us out here any longer," said the man from before, "tie him up and use him for bait."
When the divers came up, they would inevitably report their work first to the Hoodoo man, talking in dialects incomprehensible to English speakers. They called him the Hoodoo man as when he wasn't looking over the side or directing the divers, he would chant and perform rituals for hours at a time. A strange mix of a man, dressed like the urban upper-class, practicing Caribbean spiritual rituals. The regular crews gave him a wide berth.
On the HMS Patience, the commanding officer checked his watch. Closing the timepiece, he stamped impatiently. He took no lesson from the irony of of his ship's name.
"Lieutenant! Take a reading."
"Winds fair, fair weather clouds, barometer steady," came the reply.
The Captain opened his watch again for only a moment, before snapping it shut.
"Mr. Eddy."
The Captain turned to the hoodoo man, interrupting him in the midst of a chant, arms outstretched with palms upright. Most discomforting to the captain, as he watched the chants, the hoodoo man's eyes rolled back, showing only the white of his eyes.
"Mr. Eddy!"
The shout pulled the hoodoo man out of his recitations. A moment passed before his eyes returned to their rightful place. He stumbled forward as if out of deep concentration, steadying himself against the ship's rail.
"The strongest pride of His Majesty's Navy could be better used than fishing the ocean floor for rumors. We are at war."
"Patience," said Eddy, his voice low, gravely. "That's the name of this ship, correct?"
He swept his hand out over the semi-circle the ships surrounded.
"What lies beneath us will change the balance of power on the sea, once, and forever. The riches of India, returned to its rightful owner, the British Empire. If we are successful, you will control the seas."
The Captain took no solace from these words, his face remaining unsettled. He tried to plead with the man.
"This expedition has gone on for some time. The man are becoming restless, with the wait, and with your…beliefs."
Eddy ran his hands along the ropes, muttering chants. He held them, steady, raising his voice and this his hands to the sky. He closed his eyes, then spoke.
"My good captain. What is the bulwark of patience? Faith."
The lines of the heavy rope went taut, the ships immediately listing towards whatever prize the lines caught. The divers now appeared in the water, frantically waving to the ship.
"We've got it! It's hooked! Pull it up!"
The crew, awakened by the sudden jerk of their ship, began to move to quarters. A working party moved to the capstan, pushing against the wood beams, starting the arduous task of the dragging up the ropes.
On the water, John stood to see the commotion. His crew began to groggily stir, watching the commotion above them. John instead looked down at the divers. He noticed all the divers were now climbing aboard the ships. Despite their absence from the water, he took alarm, as the water around the boats began to bubble.
On the deck above, the hoodoo man Eddy approached the captain of the Patience. The officer paid him no mind, focused more on the action below. He spoke to the master-at-arms next to his commander.
"Recommend reefing the sails and battening the hatches," he told the seaman.
The Captain was taken aback by the man giving them orders. He looked around at the sunny, calm weather.
"But it's gorgeous. There isn't even a breeze."
John watched as the standards on the back of the ship picked up, the first wind in days. Then, without warning, a gust of wind whipped over the retinue, nearly knocking John over into the water.
Any unlashed ropes began to whip around the deck, lashing out as snapping snakes. Men struggled to tie them down in the sudden gale, their officers' command drowned out by the howl of wind.
In an instant, the fair weather disappeared, dark clouds moving quickly over the party. With the wind and the clouds came a driving rain, instantly soaking the exposed ships. Rowboats rocked in the increased ocean swell, waves threatening to swamp the boats. The water below the boats boiled, their color a dark green.
"Captain!" came the cry from the helm. "Barometer dropping dangerously! Wind speed increasing!"
"Gale!" the Captain cried. "Get the sails unlashed, put us windward before we collide."
Bells rang onboard. With it came a terrible call.
"Hurricane!"
"This quickly?" cried the Captain. "Impossible!"
All the crew rushed around, racing to save the ship. The sole exception being Mr. Eddy, who stood calmly at the chaos around him. Even more disconcerting, he smiled.
"It's coming."
A shout came from above. The lookout waved his hands feverishly, desperately trying to relay a message to the Captain.
The man in the crow's nest watched in horror as on the horizon a massive glowing golden line curved just under the water, pointed straight for the squadron. Lightning shadowed the shape, bolts crashing in an unnatural orderly march of nature's fury. First in its way - the idly sitting rowboats.
The underwater creature hastily approached the crews terrified crew. The first swells struck the boats, threatening to swamp them under the anchored warships.
"Row!" John cried to the men. "Row for your lives!"
The crews took to their oars, struggling to get out of the way. Above them, the crack of lightning mixed with the boom of cannons from above. A cacophony of terror resounded, the rowers trapped in the vise.
Cannonballs flew over their intended target, the golden shape moving with tremendous speed under the water. The cannoneers couldn't get a bead on the object. It came straight on, directly towards the flagship.
John saw the object's path would put it directly under him. The rowboats spinned aimlessly in the battering surf. No possibility existed for them to get out of the way. He cried out, trying to be heard over the noise.
"Defend yourselves! Defend the ships!"
His words gave a small boost to the men's morale. They set to work on the bundles wrapped up in each longboat, revealing long whaling spears. Each man took a spear, steeling himself.
The golden object slowed as it came to rest below them. Cresting over the shape, the glow increased ominously under the rowboats. The men's faces illuminated in the blinding light. None could look too long to aim, the brightness too painful to look.
"Now!"
Spears thrust into the water. Blind throws went in every direction, hoping in a mad effort to hit the thing that passed below them.
The effort appeared to bear fruit. The light faded to the point where John could see again. The wind and waves died down as well, leaving only the sound battering rain.
"Did anyone get a hit?"
On the other rowboat, one of their lines snapped to, pulling taut.
"We hit it!" cried one of the men. "We got-"
John watched in horror as the rope dragged the boat under the water, the crew disappearing in a violent instant. None surfaced.
The water around them again began to bubble.
"Oars!" John cried frantically.
The light reemerged, stronger than before, as if the sun itself lay just below the surface, threatening to break through.
A crown of water pushed upwards at the object's approach, lifting the whalers upon it. A massive leathery coil parted the waves, whipping through the water. It crashed into the rowboats, sending their crews flying. John went clear of his swamped rowboat, landing under the water.
In the darkness and sudden silence, John floated weightlessly, in ethereal blackness. Despite knowing he wasn't the only one who went in the water, he could not see but a few feet around him in any direction. A hand struck him - another man struggled to swim to the surface. Righting himself, John swam over. He grabbed the man's arm and placing it over his shoulders, preparing to kick to the surface.
A flash of lightning lit up the undersea, illuminating exactly what pressed this assault. The sight of the thing stopped John, awestruck by the massive length of the scaled creature.
Limbless, it moved through the waves by alternatively flexing left and right. John couldn't see where the creature started, or where it ended. Whatever led the coil continued its assault towards the man-of-war.
Onboard the HMS Patience, words failed the Captain. Too scared to even give a single order, the crew took the initiative for themselves. A general panic set in, every man for himself, as they began to abandon ship. The Captain took one last look around, finding himself alone.
In panic, for some reason only one strange thought came clearly to his mind. The most conspicuous person on his ship, the one who had watched over the side, in the same spot, for days on end, like a nautical gargoyle. The Captain looked over, finding the man completely gone. His watch abandoned.
"Mr. Eddy?" he said.
With a sickening crunch, the creature struck the ship amidships. Wood splinters flew in every direction, worse than being hit by cannon fire. The ship caved inward, its bow and stern now at an angle.
An arrow-shaped head rolled over the deck, diving back down on the other side before anyone could see it. It repeated this motion multiple times, spinning the ship as if a toy. The wounded ship trapped in its death roll turned completely upside-down, with only the bow visible through the coils.
Onboard the flagship HMS Britannia, Captain Percy, commodore of His Majesty's Caribbean fleet, watched as the beast now began to squeeze. Hideous snaps and groans came from the wood of the Patience, the ship crying out in pain. It became too much for the old gentleman to watch.
"Ready broadside!" He cried.
"But sir, the Patience…" said his second-in-command.
"It's gone, Lieutenant Commander," said the Captain. "Blow the bastard away."
With a quick command, the sky filled with fire, a broadside of cannonballs providing mercy blows through the mortally wounded ship. Several cannonballs hit the coil directly. To their horror, every hit bounced off with no effect. Each hit only caused the creature to tighten further. The light again increased until it became too bright to watch. A crackling noise filled the air, reaching an intense pitch that hurt their ears.
At its peak, several bolts of lightning descended down from the heavens. Fingertips of the gods themselves reached down, finally striking the death blow to the Patience.
From white light emerged a ball of orange, the powder magazine ignited by the assault of electricity. Wood and rigging flew through the air, heralded by a deafening cacophony of thunder and explosion.
When the debris settled to the water, their senses returning, the crew of the Britannia saw the ship and the creature were gone. As quickly as the storm blew up, it dissipated. Wind and waves becalmed, leaving only a soaking rain.
Lines went over the side, the salvage operation becoming a rescue. Warship crews helped pull up the men clustered around in the water. Strong arms pulled John up over the side, along with his surviving compatriot. They collapsed about the deck, spitting up seawater.
Gasping for breath, John looked up to find Captain Percy standing over him.
"The whalers of Boston come lacking," said the Captain. "I guess I should have expected no less from a pirate nation, and their empty claims of loyalty."
"We were nearly killed by a monster," said John, sputtering onto his hands and knees.
"No, not a monster."
The bass-toned voice rose from behind the Captain, surprising him. He looked to find Mr. Eddy, standing with his hands crossed behind his back. Top hat low on his head, his black suit flecked off the rain, but underneath he appeared dry as bone.
The crew, already wary of him, made way as he stepped slowly towards the rail. No one had seen him cross from the Patience. He took in the broken wreckage of the dead ship floating around them.
"A guardian," he said.
"Ship off the port!"
The call came from above. The already shocked crew looked off the side with trepidation. They were in no condition to fight, after what they had been through. The sight they saw only served to completely break their spirits.
Out on the ocean, there sailed a black ship with bright red sails. The ship appeared to glow red, as if engulfed in fire. Yet it did not burn. The most damning sight of them all, just under the waves, the ship appeared to ride atop a skull.
"Ready the cannon!" cried Captain Percy. He moved through the men, trying to rally to the new threat. His crew refused to move, exhaustion and horror incapacitating even the bravest. Only the Captain, Eddy, and John stood and watched.
"Hold your fire," said Mr. Eddy, calmly. "You'll only hit air."
"But it's right there!" said the Captain.
The ship came close enough to make out the crew. They appeared to be shadows, with glowing white eyes and mouths. They too appeared to burn as if in fire, though they showed no signs of pain. Chains appeared prevalent on their hands and necks.
"The angry ghost of a slave ship, most likely. Probably taken by tide or pirates, it's occupants torment manifested in death."
He pulled a book from his breast pocket. Opening, the pages were filled with notes and drawings. Eddy flipped to a well-paged chapter. It revealed a drawing of a mighty serpent's mouth, with humans being cast down into its open maw.
"The creature is a beacon, and a portal, to realms beyond our own. Including, the supernatural."
"Look!" cried John.
At the bow of the ghost ship stood a new figure. This shadow, lithe in body, wore no shackles. It stood out from the rest of the wraiths due to its most striking feature. It stared at the war ship with a bright blue fanged face.
Raising its hand, fog came from the ocean in response, enveloping the ship. Then, it dissipated, the ship gone as quickly as it appeared.
The Captain turned from his watch, confronting the hoodoo man.
"You knew this would happen?" he said. The Captain came close, nearly face-to-face. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I now have to account for a lost ship, and lost time from taking prizes. Do you know what this will do for my reputation?"
At first, no response came. The sound began, deep in the man's breast. This disconcerting noise was soon replaced with loud, slow laughter. Mr. Eddy, despite the destruction around them, despite all they had just seen. He laughed.
"Don't you see?!" He spoke to the crew, not the Captain. "It only came because we're so close! The treasure… it's right here."
The crew pressed in close now, straining to hear the conversation. Fearing the loss of control of his crew, Captain Percy intervened. He raised his voice to be heard over the downpour.
"I don't know how you convinced the Governor to send a flotilla for this fool's errand," he shouted, feigning superiority. "I am a soldier, not a treasure-chaser off on a wild goose chase. Whatever it is, it's not worth… this."
"You could fund your war with Napoleon a thousand times over," Eddy argued. "But more than that, with what's down there…you could control the waves."
This caught John's attention. He watched as the Captain now got in Eddy's face.
"I don't need myth and folly. I need prizes to bring home," he hissed. "Otherwise I would have never agreed to this enterprise."
Percy turned and addressed the crew, putting back on his bravado.
"The British empire will control the waves, not with silly tales of lost pirate treasure. But with ships, men, and cannon!"
An exhausted huzzah went up from the men. The Captain turned back to his debater.
"You sir, are free to go about your business. I am charged with the duty of the British empire."
The Captain turned away from the man, taking stock of the damage and directing the ship away. As he passed John, he muttered under his breath.
"Pirate treasure. What fools…"
As the remaining two ships made ready for sail, away from the sorrowful scene, John watched the man they called Mr. Eddy. He stared down into the depths, refusing to retire.
"Mr. Eddy?" he addressed the solemn man.
The hoodoo man only turned his eyes toward John. John placed his hand on his shoulder.
"I believe you, Sam," said John.
"I wonder sometimes if you do, John," was the curt reply. John found himself taken aback by the comment, and the piercing stare in the man's eyes. He couldn't determine if the reply was simply in anger, or if he really could see through John. John decided to try another tact.
"The British are out. Perhaps the Americans next?"
Sam scoffed.
"If civilized men won't go after it, then perhaps uncivilized men will?" He shook his head. "We have seen better days."
"Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows," replied John.
This got the grave man's attention.
"What are you suggesting?"
"A pirate nation, as the good Captain said. Who best to go after a pirate treasure, then a pirate?"
They both looked to the east. The coast of Florida could be seen in the distance.
"Do you know of any pirates left?" said Sam.
John nodded.
"I've heard of one. In New Orleans."