Art:AADM/Second round/Darkness Falls

The Short
= The Entry = It was a dark and stormy night, and out of the darkness a small, creaky ship sailed, riddled with holes; its mast creaking, and the soft drone of a sea shanty coming out of the belly of the vessel. The ropes were slack, the sails lifeless; jagged flashes of lightning revealed an eerily empty deck. The choppy seas tossed the ship back and forth like a child's rag doll, yet somehow it managed to stay afloat. The cadenced words that drifted in the rain-sodden air echoed the rise and fall of the waves, a monotonous beat that remained unchanged despite the stuttered motion of the ship.

The last flash of lightning came dangerously close to the bobbing ship; close enough to briefly pierce the gloom beneath the holes in the deck and reveal the glint of a needle moving back and forth. The bright light faded, letting the hold return to its previous dimness, broken only by the fitful flame of a smoky lantern. The following thunder didn't faze the wielder of the needle, neither breaking the rhythm of the stitches nor the rhythm of the song. The words faded to a hum, however, as he remembered the last lightning strike that had come that close.

They had been on a training voyage with new members of the crew. He and the captain were the only senior officers aboard, with five new hands eager to start a life at sea. They'd taken Sea Falcon with minimal cargo, being more interested in speed than profit, since winter and its more inclement weather were fast approaching. The herbs they were carrying were rare at their destination, though, and would definitely cover their costs. The route they were traveling was well-charted, a journey of four days from one island to another, and the trip started clear with no traces of any trouble in the sky.

The first two days passed smoothly as the new hands relaxed and became more comfortable with their duties. They were all hard workers; usually, at least one of a new group tried to slack, but not these lads and lasses. The loudest one, who quickly became known as Spoons for his delight in using them as percussion instruments, also had a clear, strong tenor, which made him a likely candidate as a future shantyman. Galley had a talent with spices and was able to make even the blandest food taste good, after growing up as an innkeeper's son; Kindle had quick, deft hands that made her as good at whittling as she was at keeping the hull in shape; Nobie, short for Nobeard, was the youngest crew member and while he had a man's height, hadn't actually started to shave yet; and Mouse, who was as quiet as Spoons was loud, liked to hide away in the hold, keeping the water level down and braiding her hair just like the captain's. He'd never known Captain Redpatch's given name; she'd always said her patch was soaked in the blood of her enemies, with a twinkle in her remaining eye. He himself had been responding to Stein for so long, that he had a hard time remembering what his birth name was. When barely older than Nobie, he'd drunk his first captain under the table; not the wisest idea in retrospect but, luckily, both captains he'd served under had a good sense of humor and he'd been rewarded with a new name and the eponymous stein his former captain had been using.

Captain Redpatch ran a tight, but lighthearted, ship. As long as everyone attended to their duties promptly and respectfully followed orders, she was satisfied. As First Mate, he only had to raise his voice a few times, all due to honest ignorance as opposed to willful disobedience. In the evenings, everyone would gather together and tell stories, each one trying to outdo the last. Mouse surprised everyone by getting the captain to laugh the longest, and the rum flowed freely and well. The camaraderie was thick and joyful, with their drunken singing and laughter drifting over the waves.

The Falcon fairly flew across the water with her light load, and by the dawning of the third day, they were hours ahead of schedule. Yet the dawn also brought stronger winds and angry clouds forming off the starboard bow. The captain thought they'd be able to outrun the coming storm, so they stayed on course. She wrestled with the helm, while all other hands kept the sails billowing in the ever-strengthening gusts of wind.

A heavy rain began to fall with the sun low on the horizon, the sky appearing oily and bruised through the roiling clouds. Stein climbed to the crow's nest carrying a spyglass, hoping to find any clear patches of sky beyond the storm, when he spotted instead the unmistakable silhouette of a ship three times their size headed straight for them. His heart dropped when he saw the red flag bearing a skull wreathed with black berries flying from its mast -- they were being pursued by the infamous Belladonna, captained by none other than Bloody Bill Nox.

Bloody Bill was notorious in these waters for his ruthless pillaging of any vessel deemed weaker than his own. He liked to play with his captives, offering them the "choice" of which body part they wanted severed. Those who survived their maiming - usually a tongue or a hand - were then forced to work in the crew in chains. Most sailors jumped overboard in despair rather than face that fate.

Back on deck, Stein raced toward the captain with his dire news. Her white-knuckled grip on the helm became even whiter, as her face set with a steely resolve. Saying they had a better chance with the storm than with pirates, she turned the ship directly into the full fury of the tempest.

Time seemed to thicken and slow as they tried to escape human avarice and endure nature's wrath. Despite all of the captain's skill and the frenzied efforts of the crew, however, the Belladonna continued to gain on them.

A clap of thunder was followed immediately by the roar of cannon fire. That first shot missed, but not by much. He abandoned the sails and raced to their own cannons, knowing that they did not have enough shot to deter the other ship for long, if at all. The second shot that hit the Falcon damaged her rudder and he saw Galley head toward the captain to help her with the increasingly sluggish helm. Stein aimed toward the Belladonna's sails, hoping to lessen her maneuverability and allow them to ride the wind away and escape. The next half hour passed in a smoke-filled blur of frightened yells and wind-lashed torrents of rain, the ship itself groaning with each impact.

Bloody Bill strode across the Belladonna's deck shouting orders, pausing frequently to laugh at the Falcon's plight. He continued the bombardment, refusing to grapple, just to taunt them with the might of his armament. His next volley contained shrapnel aimed toward the deck and Stein heard twin screams of agony from Kindle and Spoons, who had been working side by side. Moments later, Mouse came up from below just as a huge wave swept across the deck, sending her over the railing before she had a chance to steady her feet. Nobie had leapt toward her, trying to grab her hand, but only managed to follow her in a tumble to the sea. In the time it took for Stein to take two steps, four of them were gone.

As he picked up the last cannonball, hoping he could make this final shot count, he saw a brilliant bolt of lightning directly hit the taller ship's mainmast, arcing down and striking the deck as well, followed by a deafening combination of thunder and a horrendous gunpowder-barrel explosion. The crack of the mast could be heard over the sounds of the storm and the screams of the Belladonna's crew. The mast swayed briefly for a moment, then, almost gracefully, tipped downward across the gap between the ships, crashing against the Falcon's helm and killing Captain Redpatch and Spoons instantly.

There was a sudden pause in the force of the storm, as if Nature herself stopped to take a breath. The last remnants of the sun's weak radiance faded away as the final blood-red edge dipped below the horizon. Looking across the water at the burning ship, he felt that his own demise had only been delayed, not halted.

When the flames had dwindled in the distance to a faint spark, then disappeared, he shook himself from his stupor. He ached with cold and his fingers were numb, but he knew what he had to do. He went to the captain first, gently brushing her eyelid closed, and lifted her from the helm's wreckage, taking her down to a dry spot in the hold. He found the others, one by one, and laid them next to the captain. He kept glancing at Spoons, who had never been this quiet, and began singing the lad's favorite shanty. Finding the materials he needed, he started stitching. He had to protect them; he didn't want the rats to get them.

Just as the last stitch was completed, the lantern sputtered out, and his voice fell silent. Blind hands reached for more sail cloth and rethreaded the needle by feel. The rain continued to fall and the wind to blow, the ship traveling deeper into the darkness, and the singer's hoarse, raspy voice began singing a lullaby as he started stitching his own shroud.