Author's note: I fell in love with Capitan Salazar so I couldn't resist fantasizing about his past and what he could've been in a world with less magic. This story is based on history almost as much as it is on the movie.
I don't own any of the POTC characters. Not making money, just having fun. Hope you guys enjoy the story and feedbackis always appreciated.
The almost horizontal rain laced his face cruelly and he tasted its salty bitterness deep in his parched throat. Heart pounding wildly and muscles cramping with strain, he held on to the helm of the "Maria Silenciosa", forcing the lurched vessel to plow deep into the water and take the huge dark gray wave towering over her on the bow. The rudder bit deep into the torrent and the timbers groaned as the "Silent Mary" battled the wind and the current, facing a wall of water and then pierced it furiously. He shouted a warning to his men, locked one arm through the wheel and held on as the wave crashed down from its peak, flooding the deck with ice – cold water, trying to swallow the ship whole and take her down to the foamy abyss below.
The bow soared out of the water, the timbers held and the "Maria Silenciosa" righted.
Spitting out the bitter salty water and shaking with the effort to hold the wheel in his grasp, he commanded his men to adjust the jib sails and then squinted, trying to see past the churning waves, through the unending blur of darkness and into the horizon.
Steering way and sea room. Those four little words were shining like lighthouses in the clear and focused coldness of his mind. Because they represent the two things the survival of a vessel in a storm depends on. The first one means the ship has to move forward with enough power to steer and keep its bow pointing into the waves to plow through them safely. Wind and waves will always try to turn the vessel, strike her side, roll her over and sink her. Pushing against them requires forward momentum. And as long as the jibs are well adjusted, the foremast holds and he is strong enough to man the helm, the "Silent Mary" will have all the power and agility she needs.
As for the second, 'sea room', the term itself pretty much says it all. If she is to survive, the ship needs to maintain as safe a distance as possible from any reefs or shoals, or, God forbid, a coastline. With land close by downwind, the storm can drive the ship onto the land and wreck her. And so, his intense gaze was traveling from port to starboard, watching out carefully for the slightest signs of a near land or shoals in the water, on the horizon and even in the smell of the wind. But, thankfully, there was nothing within sight or sense, except a great, growling, angry ocean, its giant waves twisting and turning and carrying the "Maria Silenciosa" towards the dark horizon. Into an unknown, unfamiliar and uncharted sea. Deeper and deeper into the legendary Devil's Triangle. A place that, according to legend, no one could ever find, except by accident and no one had ever charted because it cursed and claimed any ship that dared to enter its unholy waters. None could escape it, once they crossed the unknown border. A border that he realized he'd crossed when he commanded Moss to follow the God – cursed pirate into the God – cursed cave. No doubt the bastard knew where he was going and where he wanted his enemies to end up. And he, a Capitan of the Royal Navy, a veteran of many battles, a legendary sailor, who'd scoured the Caribbean through the length and breadth for years and could navigate it with his eyes closed, ought to have known better than allowing himself to be hoodwinked into chasing the "Wicked Wench" through a passage he'd never seen before, which wasn't shown on any map he'd ever read. How pathetic! How disgustingly humiliating!
But the fall from grace very quickly became the least of his worries as the cave he'd entered soon turned out to be a long, serpentine and deadly maze of a bay. Its waters were just deep enough for a ship of the line to sail through, chock – full of hidden lethal reefs just waiting to cut through the "Silent Mary's" belly and haunted with the ghosts and skeletons of other ships and men, unfortunate enough to face the Devil's triangle. As it turned out, he wasn't the only captain to have made that mistake. But he was one of few, if not the only one to leave those hellish rocky bowls alive. It'd taken him and the crew over three hours and all of their legendary skill to outmaneuver death and bring their beloved vessel out safely and relatively unharmed. The open sea that lay ahead had welcomed her with playful, choppy waters, a dark, cloud – covered sky and a huge storm, already brewing deep within the water.
At first, he thought of turning round and weathering the storm inside the tunnel. But then, as if in answer to his thoughts, a sudden gut – freezing howl emerged from the deep water. A sharp, ice – cold wind blew in from the north – east and the rocks began to shake and crack and crash into the restless water. There was only one way the Devil wanted him to go. Ahead. Full sail ahead, racing the wind, into the teeth of the emerging storm. Except, even now, he did not believe in devils and their curses and other superstitious nonsense repeated gladly by old women, bigoted priests and drunk sailors trying to scare minnows or impress wenches. He knew full well who the so – called 'evil spirit' truly was. And he was nothing more or less than a wild, stormy ocean.
"Oh, so you want to play? Bring it on!" – he'd thought calmly, a madcap smirk on his lips, as though he were silently speaking to a treacherous, cruel and tempestuous old friend, he'd known and loved all of his life - "Sailing the sea, even an unknown one, beating it and coming home again is what I'm trained for. What I've been doing my whole life. I've taken the sea on many times and I've always won. I always will. It's who I am. El Matador Del Mar"…
Suddenly a huge bolt of lightning flashed across the lead – covered sky lighting it from one end to another, followed by a deafening crash of thunder. The wind bore down sharper and wilder than before, slashing Salazar's face with rain and foam. As the churning sea followed, the prow began to swing with increasing velocity, forcing the "Silent Mary" broadside. Once again, the Matador put all his strength into the wheel, swinging it hard to port. Another wave came down, unleashing its deadly flow onto the deck, throwing the helmsman off – balance, the wheel slipping out of his grasp. The ship swung sideways and leaned terrifyingly as Salazar was flung aside. Cursing heartily, he threw himself down onto the wheel, gripping it again, battling for control and forcing it to port with all his strength. Bending like a bow, the foremast creaked and screamed, as, finally, he managed to steer the vessel windward. The "Silent Mary" rocked and shook, yet held the course.
"Fores'ls!" – Salazar screamed.
"Aye, sir!" – answered a faint sound of Lesaro's voice, almost inaudible among the thunder of the gale.
Slowly and cautiously, inch by inch, Lesaro, Moss and two other men crawled aloft and disappeared in the web of the foremast rigging.
Then came a terrified scream of the bow lookout, which the rest of the men felt, rather than heard.
"We're lost" – the lookout yelled almost incoherently, pointing ahead.
And then they saw it. A great wave, just of the starboard side, heading right towards them. And then another, even bigger one following it. And another one… And another…
"Man the pumps!" – the captain shouted back at the top of his voice.
Immediately six sailors ran below to aid their mates, who were struggling to keep the leaking water out. The rest of the crew remaining aloft were frantically checking their life ropes and throwing terrified glances as the quarterdeck, where Salazar was standing, clutching the helm with what force he had left, preparing to thrust the bow into the gigantic impending wall of water. Everyone knew he was the best helmsman in his crew. But, then again, Armando Salazar would've been the best helmsman in nearly any crew… And now, as many times before, his skills were to be put to the ultimate test. A test they knew that he would pass. He always did.
Composed and collected, his mind clear and focused, oblivious to any fatigue and completely ignoring the silent screams of the terrified little man trapped deep inside his heart, El Matador stood tall amidst the chaos like a mast of calm. Fully prepared to take on whatever dared to come his way and lead his men through hell itself if need be.
"Hold on, lads!" – Lesaro shouted crossing himself, his heart bursting and his vision blurred completely as he watched the giant wave tower over them, raging, vicious and craving human flesh and blood. He griped the rope with all his might, preparing to hold on for dear life. So did the rest. Some of the crew were screaming, some praying frantically and some were too panic – stricken to do anything. Some staring wide – eyed and horrified, some snapping their eyes shut.
The bow crashed down and the sea fell on the "Silent Mary" in full force as the mighty wave thundered across the deck. The whole ship shuddered. Salazar cursed and swung the wheel to starboard with all his might, fighting the hungry blackness that was trying to suck them into the vortex, hoping to goodness the rudder would survive. For a moment he thought that she had weltered, but the "Maria Silenciosa" swung out of the through. Water rolled off the deck through the scuppers, leaving the sailors choking on seawater and gasping for air. A sail snapped out of its ropes and cracked wildly as the winds filled it. Like an ominous drumroll.
The foremast snapped. Immediately the sailors, led by Magda and Lesaro jumped at the rigging with knives in their hands and cut the mast free. The mast went over the side and took down several men caught up in the rigging with it. Those who were luckier barely had time to find cover before the next wave hit, taking more souls with it. And then the next one…
Trying desperately to reach for a secure rope before the next wave hit, Lesaro looked onto the quarterdeck again. The Capitan was still there, groping the helm and fighting the sea like a lunatic, possessed by a madness. A madness the kind of which strong men grab with both hands and weaker ones wish they'd never witnessed. A madness he and the others loved and worshiped their captain for. A madness that always got them through no matter how hopeless and impossible it seemed...
The furious sea flooded the "Silent Mary" again and again, hurling huge spumes of foam into the sky. The waves were now attacking on all sides of the compass smashing her violently, shoving her from side to side, forcing her timbers, ropes and chains to scream and wail with strain. With the foremast gone, she'd lost half of her strength and was now floundering almost helplessly at the mercy of the current. Hurling curses at the storm, Salazar fought the wheel against the sea, his heart nearly bursting and his strength fading fast. He tried to maintain focus, but his vision grew more blurred and fading. The barely distinguishable colors mixed into a dark – gray haze of water and the deck lurched forward violently as a devilish blow of encircling waves struck the "Maria Silenciosa", swallowing her whole and pulling her down into the roaring black abyss.
"Not, bloody yet!" - El Matador roared as all of a sudden he felt a second wind rising somewhere deep inside his failing body and pushed the wheel with all his might in a final desperate stubborn throw. He'd never stop the fight. Not while he was alive…
Water churned and threw him and filled his lungs and he felt its cold bite deep with himself. Pain shot through his entire body and his head felt both light and heavy as though he were completely drunk and dazed. His chest burst with pain to breathe, his world went black and his hands finally let go of the wheel… Then, suddenly, he felt his knees and hands and face crash painfully down onto the wet, slimy deck. The bitter salty water flowed out of his mouth and he coughed violently as he gasped for breath. Jumping to his feet and grabbing the wheel again, he saw the bow of the "Silent Mary" spring up and then crash down into the water, afloat and well against all odds. Most of the crew aloft were on their knees, spitting, retching and struggling for breath. The rain had almost stopped and the waves, although still big, were not as fierce and angry.
Salazar shouted out happily and laughed like a madman. The sea was calming down and the battle was over. They had won.