The Song of the Sea

1. A Piece of Seaweed a Day....

Captain Jacob Riley stared at the crate that was now situated on the deck of his beloved ship, The Flying Bounty. It was not large by crate standards, maybe 5 foot each way, but that was still large enough to mean that whatever was inside it was going to be difficult to hide.

The Captain gave a nod to his first mate and right-hand man Pete, who grabbed hold of a mallet and crowbar. Pete wedged the crowbar between the wooden slats of the crate, then lifted the mallet above his head, ready to strike.

"WAIT!" came a gruff voice from below.

Jacob swung round to see a man standing on the harbour, next to where The Flying Bounty was moored, waving his arms at them rather frantically.

On closer inspection, Jacob recognised the now rather red-faced man as the trader he had purchased his latest acquisition from.

"Don't touch it until I am back," the Captain ordered his men, before disembarking and making his way across the harbour wall.

He hoped that he wasn't going to ask for more money. Jacob had already spent far too much, nearly half a year's earnings, on this item.

He approached the man, known only to him as Fingers; a nickname that he had to assume came from the fact he only had two fingers left on his right hand. He'd heard various stories of how the man had lost the rest, but he didn't know if any of them were true.

"It ain't a damn crate of rum! Don't let that numbskull 'it it wi' that 'ammer!"

Fingers had a strong accent which could make him difficult to understand. And it didn't help that he seemed to constantly drop his 'h' sounds.

Jacob considered pointing out that if it was fragile, maybe telling his crew that it was rum in there, might not be such a bad thing.

"Should I be worried?" Jacob asked. "Is there a chance that it might go off if handled roughly?"

Fingers smirked. A look that didn't do his already haggard features any favours.

"It's not ya men I'm worried about."

Jacob frowned. It wasn't often that traders would worry about their goods once money had exchanged hands, and he started to think that maybe he should have asked more questions about what he'd purchased.

"What exactly is in that crate?" he finally dared to ask.

The only thing Jacob knew was that it was a weapon. And the deadliest weapon you could acquire. This wasn't something that Jacob had purchased on the open market. No, all his dealings regarding this weapon had been done in secret, via coded messages and secret meetings.

"Sommet that'll suck out your soul," Fingers said with a toothless grin.

Jacob felt a shiver run down his body, but he blamed it on the northerly breeze that seemed to be picking up nicely in time for their departure.

"It's magic isn't it?" he said, looking back at the crate on his ship and for the first time in his life, he wondered whether he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

"I, it's magic alright," Fingers said puffing out his chest.

Jacob hadn't had much experience with magic, preferring to avoid it if possible. Most of the people he'd heard of who decided to dabble in magic seemed to meet an untimely demise.

He considered asking for his money back. Getting that omen of death off his ship.

But then he thought of his family back home. His elderly mother and father. His brother and his brother's wife and two children. One of them, a baby niece who he'd yet to meet. He knew he was desperate. That was why he was in this godforsaken place. He reached up to run his fingers through his beard, only to touch skin, reminding himself that he had shaved this morning. Something he always did the night before a voyage.