Art:AADM/Second round/The Smuggler

The Short
= The Entry = I glared at the hangman, eyes narrowed against the setting sun's light, as he read aloud my sentence, but my mind could not focus on his words; instead, I was forced to relive the ultimate humiliation of the crime for which I had finally been brought to the gallows: smuggling bananas. As the man droned on, I relived those carefree days, from their glamorous beginnings to their painful end.

My short stint as a smuggler began a few months ago, when a few of my friends and I had a bit too much to drink. We reasoned that pillaging and playing poker just wasn't cutting it, PoE-wise, and put our heads together to think of a plan. Then it hit us. Prolix Purlieu had been having a banana shortage as a result of the almost constant event blockades, and we could make a fortune from illegally running the blockades and selling the valued bananas at two or three times their normal price.

With this haphazard plan in our minds, we set out from Lima, sailing blindly down to Prolix. A heated battle between several frigates was taking place in the blockade, so we skirted the dangerous center of the board, instead taking the safer path along the side.

Our sloop pulled up to the dock, sails squared, ropes taut, and Jolly Roger snapping in the wind. The hungry islanders clustered around, holding up stacks of PoE and shouting. I waved graciously to the multitude, pulled out a banana, and flourished it in the air. The crowd went wild. We distributed bananas and collected the profits, our pockets jangling with the sweet sound of gold. Occasionally when we passed each other, groups of rich scurvy-ridden islanders hard on our heels, we would wink and smile knowingly, then turn and hand out bananas.

Life was good. When Prolix calmed down a little, we moved on, every starved island welcoming us with open arms and open wallets. We made more money in a few short weeks of banana smuggling than the past year of pillaging. But, like all good things, it couldn't last. One of our more cowardly co-conspirators changed sides and became an Ocean Master. Though surprised at such an awful turn of events, we continued our smuggling undaunted. One terrible day, about two weeks ago, the Plain Sild pulled into Sakejima Island for a routine restock. We loaded up rum and cannonballs, and were about to get started on the bananas for famine-stricken Viridis when a voice as hard as steel said, "Drop the bananas and nobody gets hurt."

We obeyed, shaking with fear as a huge shadowy figure with a blue name approached. The sky darkened and shadows covered the island, making it look like skeletons were attacking. I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, "Get ready to fight. It's better than what they'll do to you if we surrender."

A shiny cutlass appeared from nowhere in the figure's hand. "If it's a fight ye want, it's a fight ye'll get." He whistled, and twenty more Ocean Masters sprang out of hiding.

I gripped the hilt of my saber, sweat beading on my forehead as I surveyed the scene. We were outnumbered and surrounded, with sharpened steel glinting on all sides. There was no way out.With a bellow like a cornered bullfighter, I leapt forward and drove my sword into the man's leg. He laughed, a horrible maniacal sound that weakened my knees and left me gibbering on the ground. Leaning forward, he whispered, "It's wooden, mate."

My friends were standing behind me, watching. A menacing glance from one of the Ocean Masters made them drop their weapons and flop down on the dock, waiting to be trussed up like turkeys and thrown into the hold of Aye Spy. They took us to Typhoon and imprisoned us in the fort, with only bananas to eat. "Have a taste of your own medicine," they laughed.

The others were only jailed for a month, as they hadn't actually assaulted an Ocean Master. My fate was to be the gallows.

The scratchy hemp rope being placed around my neck jolted me out of my reverie. The hangman finished his speech, and said in a loud voice, "For these crimes, Chavytoffer is to be hanged by the neck until dead." Not if I can help it, I thought grimly. The executioner's hand was moving towards the lever that would spring the trapdoor and send me to my doom. I looked at the assembled pirates, some with their hats off out of respect, and yelled, "Now!"

A knife whistled through the air, neatly severing the rope and freeing me from the noose, Clint Eastwood style. As an added bonus, it struck the hangman in the neck. He collapsed with a strangled gurgle. Paying him no heed, I leapt to the ground and set off at a dead run for the water, shouting insults over my shoulder as I went.

Before me was my lovely Plain Sild, waiting like a loyal dog for its master. I climbed aboard her and set sail. Leaning against the navy and red painted sides, I said conversationally, "That was some throw, Piere."

My good friend Piere scampered down from the crow's nest. "I've been practicing."

He gestured towards the shore. "Look at those lubbers. They won't get a ship out until we're past Harmattan."

As if in open defiance to Piere's words, a fleet of ships sailed out from behind a jutting cliff. We gaped in astonishment. The ever-present Aye Spy was at their head, closely followed by Secret and El Pollo Diablo. Piere backed up against the mast, trying to flee the dreaded Black Ship. Though it could be beaten, with just two people we didn't want to try.

"Why did they send out El Pollo Diablo?? We're not that important! Egads, look at all the scammers and hackers around and they're worried about a few banana smugglers. We're pirates! It's our nature!" I tapped Piere on the shoulder. "Personally, I'm more afraid of the Ocean Masters. They could just ban us... I wonder why they're going to all this trouble?"

He shrugged. "Pass the rum."

I angrily grabbed a flask and smashed it against the side, careful to not damage the paintwork. "We're being attacked by skeletons and Ocean Masters and you want rum?! We're on a sloop, we can outrun them! Go sail!" Piere said, "It seemed the best way to calm down. I'd rather die drunk." "I'd rather not die at all."

He conceded that being alive really was better than being dead, so we sailed and navigated like Davy Jones himself was after us. Soon, I shouted, "There's Erh!"

We zipped past Erh Island, watching the enemy fleet shrink to little specks on the horizon, then vanish altogether. "Alright, now we can have some rum," I said.

The leagues flew by. Harmattan, Cochineal, and Napi Peak were soon put to our stern.

Piere scanned the ocean. "Not a sail in sight. Let's stop at Surtsey, we need more rum."

"Surtsey?! We're headed west, towards Moab."

Looking askance at me, Piere inquired as to our course. "Why not go east? There's open ocean and uninhabited islands for the next hundred leagues." I smiled evilly. "You'll know soon enough."

Several islands later...

"Land ahead!"

Piere collapsed the spyglass and swung down to the deck.

I was consulting my charts. "It's Olin's Brow, right?

Piere said, "Of course." After a pause, he asked, "Do you know why it's named that?"

"No idea."

"Because it looks like Australia!" He laughed.

"We've got to be careful." I said seriously.

"Why? The Ocean Masters didn't follow us."

"Maybe they didn't follow us, but Queen of Shadows is ported here...I think we should get going."

Piere saw his chance and took it. "Ah, yes, but where?"

"The edge of the world, of course! This is the last island before the waters from every corner of Viridian cascade in a majestic waterfall into the unknown underneath us," I said dramatically.

"Is the unknown an especially good place to be?"

"Well, if you've got skellies and Ocean Masters chasing you, anywhere's better than here. And we really have to leave. This is a particularly watched island, because they don't want anyone to see what's under the world. It's the last great Garnet stronghold of the Ocean Masters, so they guard it well."

"Egads!" Piere yelled. "Look!"

Looming behind us was the fleet sent all the way from Typhoon. A stentorian voice boomed out to us, "Surrender immediately or we'll sink you! All that'll be left will be little bits of bone and wood and a lot of blood."

I called back, "That's a bit gruesome," at the same time whispering to Piere, "Tell someone who's pillaging to attack a blue ship."

"But... El Pollo Di---" Then the penny dropped. "Ohhhhhhhh, I get it!" A few moments later the Black Ship vanished, off to take the place of a defenseless blue somewhere leagues and leagues away.

I grabbed the ship's wheel and turned her prow towards Aye Spy and Secret. "This should be interesting," I said.

The Plain Sild sped in the direction of the enemy, about to slip between them and wreak havoc with gunfire. Or so they thought. At the last second, I turned left and sailed off as grappling hooks bound the Ocean Masters' ships together instead of us.

"Yeehaw!" I whooped.

Piere downed a bottle of rum. "On to the great unknown!"

I awoke in the wee hours of the morning, two days after the great Battle of Olin's Brow, a thunderous rumbling sound filling my ears. Since our victory, we had been steadily sailing west, following the route marked on my extremely rare chart drawn for me by an old salt at the inn. The noise covered everything, from the creaking of the mast to the water rushing along our sides as the Plain Sild sailed full speed to the far reaches of the uncharted west. Groggily, I rolled out of my bunk and clambered up to the top deck.

I headed to the bows, careful not to trip over the empty bottles of rum littering the deck. In front of the ship was a huge white cloud. It took me a moment to realize that the cloud was actually spray thrown up by the giant waterfall at the end of the world. That moment was all the Sild needed to stop listening to me and start letting nature have a say. We rushed forward, the ship heedless of my attempts to turn about. Though it looked lovely on a map, I was having second thoughts now that I saw the end of the world up close.

With a sickening lurch, the ship tipped forward, pitching me into a crate. I slowly rose to my feet, careful to hang on to a rope. Feet pounded on the deck, and then I heard an "Egads!" as Piere skidded to a halt beside me. In front of us was eternity. White upon white upon white, with a ceaseless rumble in the background. If it wasn't for the ocean spray constantly drenching me, I'd have assumed it was heaven.

A final push was all it took to send the Plain Sild hurtling into the unknown beneath the world, with two very frightened pirates in tow.

Three days later, we were starting to get bored, not to mention sopping wet from the constant spray.

After the initial shock, we had gotten used to tying ourselves to long ropes and crawling around the deck. It was actually kind of fun to let go and fly around in the air. The hatches, once opened, became splendid seats to watch the whiteness go by and wonder what lay in wait at the bottom.

We were of divided opinions on this. I was firmly on the side of the "parallel ocean" theory, which stated that underneath every ocean was another one exactly the same, but with different people. Piere argued that it was obviously nothingness, as we had been falling for so long with no end in sight.

How wrong we were.

At around four in the afternoon, I was trying to get Piere's rat, Camembert, to say something besides "Squeak" and "Peep", to no avail. Piere was emptying a flask of rum and singing a shanty.

And, for the first time in days, something changed.

The rumble grew louder, to a thunderous roar that deafened me and muted everything. Piere's mouth moved soundlessly as he yelled something to me.

I looked down. Beneath us was... something dark.

As we fell towards it, it became clear what we were facing.

Rocks. And lots of them.

I shouted as loud as I could, "Hang on!", then tied myself tighter.

I don't think Piere heard me, but it didn't matter. About five seconds later, we were both in the air. The Plain Sild, or at least splinters of it, were with us.

Somehow, when we hit the rocks, we flew out of the ship and landed safely in the churning water between them. It alternately sucked us under until our lungs were about to burst, shot us forward, or dragged us back towards the bottom of the falls.

Then it settled into a nice forward motion. I leaned back and floated on the water, as the rocks were behind us.

Piere poked me and pointed. I followed the direction of his finger.

"Oh. No." I said.

In front of us, stretching at least a league across, was a giant whirling maelstrom of water and shards of wood, the cursed wood of shipwrecks. Beginning to mix with it were the pieces of my good old Plain Sild.

The green water, flecked with white horses, spiraled relentlessly downward to the bottom of the sea. I nodded to Piere, grabbed a small piece of my ship for good luck, then took a deep breath and went under.

"WeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEE!"

It was like a whirpool hot tub, but a lot stronger and colder. I swirled down... down... down.

Water filled my lungs, choking me. The end is near, I thought, dismayed. But suddenly, my toes touched sand. It was not the cold, wet sand of the ocean floor, however. It was the parched, sun-baked sand of the beach. I pulled my head downwards and collapsed to the warm, dry sand, gasping for breath. Beside me Piere was doing the same. I squinted up, the sunlight hurting my eyes after all my days without it. An innocent blue sky looked back at me. I glanced down at the ground. An innocent golden beach looked back at me.

This was too much for my brain to handle. Where did the whirpool go? I fell back down and writhed for a few seconds.

Piere, standing beside me, said, "Are you quite done?"

Looking up, I said, "Yes, I rather think so."

I jumped up and, gazing around, remarked, "You know, that parallel ocean thing turned out to be right after all, didn't it? This looks a lot like Typhoon Island."

Suddenly the full meaning of that simple phrase hit us like a grand frigate's full broadside.

"Chavy!!!!" yelled Piere.

Then I realized something. "The people are different though!"

"Maybe the mortals are, but we sure aren't," said a deep, horrid voice that reeked of insanity.

My hands were grabbed roughly and bound together with a scratchy hemp cord, and a gag was tied around my mouth, to prevent "any funny business with knives."

Piere and I were marched up the beach towards The Eye. Outside that notorious fort were two identical gallows poles, the nooses hanging from them like the gaping, empty eyes of Death.

It's going to be fine, I thought to myself. We'll escape. That's what always happens in movies.

The Ocean Master led us to our posts under the ropes. A hangman, clothed entirely in black, began to list our crimes. As his monotone voice continued, I rolled my eyes, clearly saying Spare me this horrible fate! Anything's better than listening to that again.

Someone in the crowd voiced my thoughts aloud. "Get on wif it!"

Murmurs of assent rippled through the crowd. With a glare, the hangman rolled up the scroll and stepped towards Piere's side.

"For these crimes, Piere and Chavytoffer shall be hanged by the neck until dead!"

A cheer went up from the crowd. Bloody-minded scurvy dogs! I thought.

The executioner pulled the lever. Piere glanced at me one last time, then plunged to his fate. I heard his neck snap like a rusty sword. His feet kicked in death spasms, then his body fell still. The crowd cheered again. This is it. It's not a movie. This revelation brought me to my senses. I twitched and jerked my hands, but couldn't get free. And this time, no one would be waiting in the crowd with a knife at the ready.

The hangman's hand reached for the lever... I tried to stop him, tell him "No, don't do it! This is all wrong!"

He ignored my silent pleas, and instead put his hand around the lever and yanked downward. The trapdoor fell from under my feet, and I plummeted to my doom. It was the longest fall of my life, in reality a few short inches, but in my mind lasting longer than the drop off the edge of the world. Tightening around my neck, the rope cut off my windpipe in a vise-like grip. Air... air! I screamed inside my head. But no air was forthcoming. Nothing would save me now.

I was vaguely aware of a sharp pain in my neck, but my life ended before the full force of my injury hit me.

As the world faded to black and my soul drifted out of my body, my disembodied mind wondered where I was going... Heaven? Hell? Nothing?

A pinprick of light appeared in the endless blackness. It widened, splitting the darkness from end to end with piercing rays of light. I would have smiled if I had a body. This was definitely heaven.

Suddenly, a booming voice said kindly, "We apologize for the inconvenience. You are being redirected."

The light receded, and my world was dark once more.

And then I was back at Typhoon Island. I stood up groggily and looked around.

There was the hangman, the Ocean Master, the happy, rapidly dispersing crowd. There was Piere (Oh, good, he made it too!).

There was me again. And there was Piere again.

There was also something wrong.

Piere's lifeless body was being cut down from the rope. Piere was standing next to me watching. I shifted my gaze to the right. I was dangling in midair, face contorted and purple, neck at an odd angle.

And then everything was clear to me.

We were dead.

I raised my arm slowly. It was there. But it was also almost transparent and tinged with blue.

I laughed. "We're ghosts, Piere!"

He turned towards me. Instead of a wispy blue phantom like I was, he had become a greenish, flesh-eaten zombie.

The straggling crowd suddenly spun around as a whole, and marched back towards me.Hanging off their bleached bones were rotting strips of flesh. Eye sockets gaped in raw ivory skulls, and mouths mirrored the fearsome grimace of Death.

To my dead eyes, everything took on the shape it would be once deceased. Skeletons, zombies, and ghosts replaced regular pirates. "The horror...the horror!" I ran away, away, away from it all, towards the ocean, towards freedom.

I skidded to a halt just before my ectoplasm touched the water crashing on the weathered tombstones of rocks, or to live eyes sand, of the beach. Instead of its normal calm green, the sea was bright red. Red like blood.