Arthur I.

It was dark as it was harsh. His body was numb, and an unknown force tugged and pulled him aggressively in all possible directions. His mind was active, yet wasn't all at once, as if he was in a deep slumber, but was just aware enough to understand that something was not right. Arthur was floating, but there was an immense pressure surrounding him from all possible angles, no air, just...liquid. He hadn't the slightest idea what was happening to him, only that something had gone terribly wrong the moment that damn storm rode upon them out there in the open sea.

xXxXx

It was all part of the plan. They finally did it. Dutch, that crazy, old charismatic dreamer of theirs finally made it happen this time. They scored the big one. Not just any daring robbery, but the holy grail of their long and exhausting journey. After torturing that sleazy bastard, Bronte, he begged like the scared child he truly was behind all that tough-guy bravado. Turns out them city folk ain't built the same as the country folk that the Van Der Linde gang prided themselves as. He squealed after Dutch almost fed him to the gators out in the bayou and pointed out a safehouse containing over three-hundred-thousand dollars' worth in gold bullions that were to be deposited to his private account at the Lemoyne National Bank.

After that luxurious tip they fed that Italian greaseball to the gators anyway, well the locals did. Arthur and the others just took off and did not bother to look back at that bastard Bronte's doomed fate. Thank goodness for that, watching a man being devoured by those ancient reptiles would have made any sane man puke in utter disgust. Dutch really wanted to do it himself, but both Arthur and John talked him out of it. How easily one's hurt pride can make them irrational against common sense.

Once the gang raided the place and shot their way out of that shithole of a city, they celebrated their newly found wealth and drank and sang and danced until midnight, even then there were some who refused to allow the night to win them over. Crazy, all of them. A happy rag-tag group of dreamers and believers on their merry way across the Pacific Ocean with the haul of a lifetime.

Thanks to Trelawny's connections Dutch acquired a ship commandeered by its veteran sea captain. A gruff sea-weary fellow of French origin, but one that led a double life as a high seas' smuggler. Dutch bribed the annoying bastard just enough to get around twenty-one people out of this country and down south to Tahiti or one of them many island paradises that Dutch had been preaching about. It was the perfect getaway.
It should have been the perfect getaway.

xXxXx

Water entered Arthur's mouth, nose and ears and poured down his throat. His eyes shot open as the rest of his body came back to life. All he could see and feel immediately confirmed his fears; He was drowning, and his body was being pulled down deep into the darkness of the bottomless sea.
In absolute panic, Arthur flayed his limbs against the currents and propelled himself up towards the surface. He broke through and gave out the loudest gasp of air he had ever done in his entire life. There was still much saltwater in his mouth and most likely inside his lungs, but right now all he had in mind was to survive this unexpected dilemma he found himself in.

"Dutch! John! Charles!" Arthur screamed out as the waves tossed him from one side to the other, "Hosea! Dutch!"

Last he remembered it was nightfall and a massive storm had crept upon the smuggler's steamboat as they all slept. Right now, it was daylight, with the sun hidden behind a massive shield of grayish clouds from which rainfall was descending from. Frantically looking around all the while using all his strength to remain afloat Arthur searched for his brothers and sisters, searching and screaming for his beloved family of lost misfits.

"Can anyone hear me?" He yelled out as another wave drove him under, He quickly swam up again, refusing to give up so easily.

"Arthur!" He heard a voice calling out far in the distance.

"Arthur!" That same voice was now accompanied by several more. He recognized them all.

"Hosea! Abigail! Over here!" Arthur raised his arm high up and waved over at them or at least in the direction where he suspected them all to be.
Staying afloat long enough he managed to see land up ahead. A vast rocky shore and in said shore was the rest of the gang. He still couldn't make out all of them, but to see them safe and away from this cursed ocean brought some relief into his panicking mind. Now he just needed to survive.

"Mr. Morgan! Mr. Morgan!" Arthur spotted Herr Strauss just ahead of me. Poor old Austrian bastard was clinging to a piece of floating wood, probably some of the crates from the now sunken ship.

"Strauss hold on! I'm coming!" Arthur swam towards him.

The desperate cowboy managed to reach the older man. Now it was two sad and wet poor old bastards clinging on for dear life as the waves kept crashing against them both. This flimsy broken piece of wood wouldn't hold two grown men for long, they needed to reach the shore as fast as possible. Arthur began to paddle his legs forward and advised Strauss to do the same.

"Come on, the shore is not that far away. Just keep swimming and don't let go!" Arthur ordered.

They were not that far off, but these damn waves were being a real bitch against their attempts. It felt like they were lacking in progress. Perhaps it was just Strauss, the man was no youngster, he could swim, but not against something like this. Regardless Arthur was going to get them both to shore. He continued to push forward not relenting for even a second for he knew better what would become of them if their bodies gave up.

"Arthur, hang on!" The blond cowboy looked and saw Charles run back into the sea, most likely coming to their aid.

"Charles don't! Stay put! We'll make it!" Arthur screamed, not wanting his dear friend to risk his life, especially for someone like him of all people.

"Charles, what are you doing?" Dutch ran behind, attempting to stop him alongside Hosea, but the half-Native wouldn't listen.

Crap. Arthur now needed to get as close as possible to prevent Charles from swimming too deep towards them. Easier said than done, that man was built differently, must be his mixed ancestry for he was swimming faster than any man I've ever seen. The waves and current couldn't contain Charles as he made his way towards Arthur and Strauss. He swam like a possessed sturgeon out of hell with such impressive speed. Arthur couldn't help, but to smile at Charles' courageous act, stupid as hell, yet still courageous.

"Mr. Morgan...I... can't hold on much longer!" Strauss cried out.

"Don't you dare say that again! Now keep paddling towards Charles!" Arthur barked, no way in this watery hell was he allowing the Austrian to be taken by this godforsaken sea. Rather him than Strauss.

"Just a little-" A massive wave blindsided them both. For the better of at least three seconds or so, Arthur was disoriented and underwater. Spinning around and attempting to latch on to anything solid as the current dragged him like a bull-rope in all directions.

Seeing the surface, he swam up once more. Spitting and coughing all the saltwater in his mouth, Arthur struggled to stay afloat. He was no longer holding on to the wooden plank and neither was Strauss. In fact, he couldn't see him anywhere.

"Strauss! Strauss! Strauss!" He screamed out his name in despair. He had to be somewhere, he had to find him!

Diving back down, Arthur only managed to stay put for very little as his lungs begged for more precious oxygen. It was a struggle he couldn't win, but he was too damn stubborn to easily submit. He looked and yelled, but that elderly bookkeeper was nowhere to be found. Attempting to dive back down again, he felt a pair of hands grab on to him from behind.

"Arthur let's go!" Charles had reached him and tugged him away from his floating spot.

"No! Strauss... Strauss is still out there!" Arthur yelled, yet he should know better, but his mind was refusing to cooperate with the logic of the situation.

"He's gone Arthur! Follow me or you'll be gone too!" Charles grabbed a fistful of Arthur's shirt and used his impressive strength to drag the older outlaw's sorry ass along as he fought against the waves to get them both to shore where the others eagerly awaited.

That was the last of Herr Leopold Strauss that he ever saw again. Same could be said for the others who watched their struggle from the safety of the beach but stood powerless to do anything about it.

Damn it.

Damn it all to hell.

xXxXx

Three hours had passed by since everyone had safely reached the shore and was accounted for, minus Strauss of course. The whole gang were all in shock at his demise. They all knew and understood that life was not forever, eventually the reaper could come to collect, but to forever be lost to the ocean? That was not a proper way to go out in this world. The mere miracle that all of them made it to safety was still surreal to them all.

Everybody was here. Everybody was tired, hungry, shivering and downright miserable. How did it all go to shit so quickly?

"How are you feeling son?" The tired cowboy looked up at the man that had led them for most of his life, a man with no fear and always ready to challenge the whole world with a proud smile. But at the moment Dutch Van Der Linde was just a man like the rest of them, exhausted, confused and just down-right miserable.

"Dutch." Arthur nodded back to him, and focused back on the campfire that had been created to warm themselves from the shivering cold wetness that the unforgiven sea had drenched them in. He didn't give the older man a proper answer, it was pointless to ask such a silly question after witnessing the plight they had all barely survived.

"I'm so sorry about Strauss...you did everything you could. Gave it your all, but this...world is cruel. No matter how strong, powerful and advanced men can be in the end...nature will always win." He ended his talk and sat down next to his adopted son, extending his shivering, moist hands into the heat of their fire.

"Not sure if that's meant to make me feel any better, but I appreciate the gesture." Arthur held his hat above the fire, drying it up. It's amazing that he had found it washed ashore, along with many other items from the shipwreck, most of them useless junk and some of them useful items.

"How are the others?"

"Oh, you know…" Dutch stared into the flames, a despondent look on his face, "The same as you and me...alive."

"Any idea where exactly we ended up?" Arthur pressed, wanting to kick away the sense of hopelessness out of him and them both with more productive thinking. Anything that can turn around their luck.

"Beats me." Dutch said.

"Well, that's nice." Arthur begrudgingly accepted the answer.

Both men sat still gazing into the fire wondering if all of their answers could be found inside those dancing yellowish-red flames. The clouds had started to come apart and bright sunlight descended upon the entire shoreline and most importantly on the marooned gang, a sad bunch of castaways. The sun should speed up the process of drying out the clothes and themselves now, at least that was a given win on their part.

Arthur looked around and saw everybody doing their part. Bill and Javier were keeping watch, the girls were huddled together drying up all the clothing that had washed up ashore, Sadie and Charles were moving a few crates that had also washed up ashore with help from Pearson. Uncle far off resting by a tree and the Reverend was roaming about, begging to God for forgiveness, redemption and a bottle of whiskey all at once. Micha, someone Arthur wouldn't have cared about at all if he did drown, was idling around playing with his knife. The sleazy killer was too consumed into his own thoughts to even bother lending a hand as the others did their part to recuperate as much as possible from this terrible mishap.

Arthur looked on the other side and there stood John Marston next to Abigail and little Jack, all three sitting together on a second fire that had been started. Marston was doing his damn best to keep his boy warm while Abigail kept telling him sweet stories and words of reassurance to the scared child.

When Arthur got to shore his first instinct was to find John. Call it brotherly instinct or something like that, but he and John went back too far to simply shrug each other's safeties. Arthur was genuinely surprised to learn that John had risked his life getting them both to land, an even bigger shocker since that moron did not know nor would ever learn to properly swim. Guess fatherhood and the desire to atone for his idiotic behavior towards the two forced Marston to confront his fears and come to their aids. Now, Arthur would never tell anyone, perhaps Sadie only, but John was making the older cowboy feel so damn proud of him.

"Gentlemen." Hosea sat opposite of the two.

"What's the status, Hosea?" Arthur asked his otherwise mentor.

"Well... everything is absolute shit, but that's already obvious. That damn storm took everything down with it. It's a miracle that almost everybody made it out alive." Hosea explained, while his thoughts lingered to a particular individual, "No sign of the crew, dead or alive. It's just us and all this floating crap and other useful items to get us started with something."

"Yeah ... almost everybody…" Arthur bitterly said, remembering Strauss' death.

"Once we regain our bearings, we'll give Strauss a proper burial and final farewell. But right now...right now we need to stay strong. We must not lose faith." Dutch proclaimed and stood up for everyone to quickly notice him, "We survived, that is a miracle and yes we may not have any idea where exactly we are at, but the truth remains the same! We are free!"

As his voice increased, everyone around slowly started to gather around to hear him talk. Even in such terrible times like this, Dutch was always a beacon of hope for them all. Where would they all be without him after all? It was the same typical grandiose speech of his, but at this particular moment of despair and fading hope they all needed to hear it more than ever before.

"I promised you all paradise. I promised you all liberation. Land free of oppression and corruption. We have not been hit this hard since Blackwater many months ago, but we prevailed back then as we stood on the brink, and we shall once again prevail against this new obstacle before us! Let us remain strong. Let us remain united. This is America no more, the Pinkertons and their greedy masters who have soiled that once beautiful country can't reach us no more. I do admit...It's not the paradise I had promised, but our persecution and restriction of everlasting freedom has come to an end!" Dutch rallied the gang as they all looked up to him, fires once more reignited in their hearts. Morgan looked up to him with a soft smile, already sensing the unity of the gang being uncaged.

"Let us find shelter and rest. Tomorrow we begin our new lives and continue on fighting against this unforgiven world. For Strauss and the many more we have lost! For our futures and dreams. We shall not be buried by sorrow and fear. We shall rise stronger than ever before! We shall remain unshaken!"

xXxXx

Night had come and the moon rose from the horizon to take its place up in the sky along the millions of stars that shined down to the earth. Most of the gang was sound asleep while only a few of them stood guard, Arthur was one of them. The group had traveled inland and found a nice open patch surrounded by trees and a nearby river. Perfect spot to camp out until they figured out their current location. Tomorrow morning, it had been decided that a small scouting group would venture out in search of any towns or homesteads that could provide provisions or much needed directions. If it got ugly or the locals refused to collaborate, well, the boys would do what they always did best.

Speaking of getting their hands dirty, another thing that happened to survive were their own weapons. Each one of their gun belts along with the revolvers remained intact with no faulty mechanism to hinder their capabilities, a blessing like no other for a group of outlaws. The crates that had been managed to be fished out were all full of ammunition and a great variety of rifles and pistols. Arthur now understood what type of smuggler the dearly departed captain was. Thankfully it would all be used in accordance and now rested in good hands.

"Hey Arthur." Morgan turned around and spotted Mary-Beth standing by his side.

"Hey there Mary-Beth. You should be resting." Arthur stood next to her. She looked exhausted, her gorgeous brunette hair was a tangled mess, no brush to keep it tame and her face reddish from all that unwarranted cold water that it was subjugated to. Even in such a harsh time like the one they all currently were stuck in she somehow managed to keep on smiling. He sure liked that about her.

"I'm warm enough. Besides, Karen is snoring again." Both shared a soft chuckle at the other woman's expense.

"Well...I can relate to that." Both decided to walk side by side, strolling together under this clear starry night.
"Are you scared Arthur?" Her question caught him off guard.

"I sure feel like it, that's for sure." He looked at Mary-Beth with an assured mindset. Those brown eyes of her were a sight to behold. They always told the truth, and one could not hide from them. Must be the reason she always wins against him, so easily manipulated by kind-hearted women.

"I'm worried for everyone. Worried where we are, worried if we'll be fine. Too many worries for me to worry about." Arthur sighed with a weak chuckle.

"I guess you're right. I honestly didn't expect to survive out in that ocean. I don't know what would have been more terrifying, drowning or eaten alive by a shark." She held both hands up, imitating a great white with them both, my Lord she was too precious for this harsh world.

"Well let's be grateful that neither of those happened." Arthur said, it would have been too much for him to know that something happened to her or any of the others. Strauss was a sad incident, but Mary-Beth and the others that he held much closer to heart would have been a wound he knew would not heal.

Perhaps it was the limited light of the night, but he could swear that the young woman was blushing, "Well it's always lovely to speak to you. I should rest now; tomorrow is going to be hell with Grimshaw more tyrannical than ever."

"Goodnight, Mary and uh...I'm really happy that you are safe. I promise to look after you and everyone else." Arthur tipped his hat.

"Good night, Arthur." Mary-Beth gave him a warm smile that lingered for too long and retreated back to her spot alongside Tilly and Karen.

Going back to his patrol, Arthur mulled heavily on the situation in hand. They were lost on some sort of island that much was a given, but he'd never heard of an island with a forest, normally it's a tropical jungle with palm trees and exotic birds of many colors. The place felt more like the area around Roanoke Ridge with the density of the trees and rough terrain. Perhaps they had washed up back in America for all they knew. Somewhere up in the east coast of the country like Virginia or the Carolinas perhaps. Just a theory, but still a possibility.

This level of thinking was giving him a headache. So many moving pieces all at once, this was more suited for Hosea and Dutch, hell even Trelawny could come up with something really quick.

Shit, guess that was the end of Trelawny for us too.

The con man magician had opted to stay behind. Stating that there was still so much for him to do in the States, as well as other important ventures that required his presence in Saint Denis. Arthur hated to see the guy go, but he was already used to it, Trelawny never stuck around for long. Regardless he wished him all the best, as he did to him. The tired cowboy was sure going to miss that charming trickster.

"Arthur?" The young raspy voice of Dutch's golden boy caught his attention as the only other sound that night aside from the distant sound of the waves crashing against the rocks in the coastline.

"Marston." Arthur gave the young gunslinger his undivided attention as he approached him.

Little John Marston as Arthur mockingly enjoyed calling him looked no different than the day, he acquired those scars. Rather than rest after nearly drowning, Dutch picked him for night duty, much to the young man's displeasure. Holding a pair of those brand-new bolt-action rifles from the smuggler's crates, both men were armed and ready for any intruders who'd dare approach them late at night.

"How's Abigail and Jack doing?" Arthur asked.

"Scared...confused, in need of bath, food and fresh dry clothes." John confessed.

"We all are…" Both men stood around looking around at their fellow brethren sound asleep, probably dreaming of happier things than the harsh reality they were all trapped in. Hoping that once they all woke up the following morning, they would still be onboard that ship and in route to an actual island paradise where freedom was awaiting them with open arms.

Across the other side of camp, Micha lingered about mumbling incoherent words to himself. That fool never slept, in fact Arthur couldn't recall ever seeing him sleep. It was the three of them guarding the group until the next few hours when Charles and Lenny would relieve them until dawn approached.

"Dutch does have...a plan, right?" John hesitated to ask, almost unsure if he should second-guess his mentor and foster father with such lack of faith, "Everything will be fine? Not for me, but for Abigail and the kid."

"He always comes up with something during hard times like these." Arthur attempted to place peace in Marston's troubled mind.

"This is far different than any other hard time, Morgan!" John countered; the frustration not hard to miss.

"We'll survive John, we always do. So quit complaining all the damn time!" Both men spoke no more and shuffled about. The tension was high between them, it was still not time for either to fully embrace each other and let bygones be bygones. But the situation in hand would have left them no choice, but to force them to speed up that long-awaited conversation between them both. Whenever that was to happen had yet to be given a date. As of right now they had a duty to their gang and would honor it despite their differences of opinions.

"How the hell did you manage to swim to shore anyway?" The older cowboy found it hard to believe that John had managed to cure his fears of drowning at the drop of a hat, but then again fear is the greatest teacher, as told so by Hosea.

John turned back around and scoffed at him, "Got lucky I suppose...Dutch has always said that about me."

"He sure does. Keep a sharp eye Marston, who knows what kind of odd folk inhabit this part of the world. Tomorrow we will get all of our questions solved." Arthur walked away to check around the perimeter, still wondering what possible new adventures awaited them all in this unknown country they were now lost in.