Short Story Collection

Strange Waters

Strange Waters

The sagging sails of The Broken Jewel whipped in the wind, slapping against the air with a loud crack as the ship sailed through the waters of Crown Crater. The sharp sound rung in Captain Braveheart's ears, vibrating through his skull until it made his teeth chatter, but it wouldn't distract him – he wouldn't let it. Despite the more than generous breeze, the waters were oddly calm, with barely a ripple in sight. It was the perfect opportunity - he was sure of it - to complete his quest, to find the crown of everlasting life that the old sea witch had prophesised to be hiding there.

"Aye, laddies," he called out to his crewmates. "This'll be easy-peasy, if not a little breezy!" he laughed at his pun before yelling, "Hold on to yer hats!"

Braveheart's second in command, Peggy, wasn't so convinced. To him, it seemed that the waters were a little too calm. It was far too easy for what had been described by the witch as "the most dangerous and scary adventure of your life". He was starting to wonder if thoughts of the crown were blurring Braveheart's better judgement, if only slightly. He wasn't the only one with such doubts, either; he'd heard whispers amongst the crewmates on the ship. Some were starting to find him reckless, obsessed even. Others doubted whether this mythical crown even existed, if it wasn't just the nonsense ramblings off an old hag desperate for attention. Obviously, none of them had the guts to mention this to Braveheart for fear of his reaction.

"I don't like this, Captain," Peggy called out. "Somit 'bout this feels off. I've got the heebies."

"When 'aven't you got the heebies, Peg?" Captain Braveheart responded with a throaty laugh, clapping a hand down on his friend's shoulder. "There's nothin' but clear waters in sight, what's the worst that could happen?"

What's the worst that could happen?

Peggy flinched at the question. They were words that he, too, had spoken once. Oh, how he'd learned.

His left leg suddenly felt heavy, the knotted wooden stump that stood in place of his own flesh and bone being the reason he was ever awarded the nickname 'Peggy' in the first place. Years back, what felt like a lifetime ago, he'd simply been known as Ivan Smith.

It was a different time back then: a different Captain, a different crew, and a different quest – his very first quest, in fact. Maybe that was why he'd been so reckless - reckless and so very stupid. He'd thought he could go on ahead without the others, complete the quest whilst the others slept and return a hero. He'd thought it would move him up the ranks faster, so he wouldn't have to spend the next forty years scrubbing decks. Long story short, his plan didn't work. Without his crew by his side to help, there was no one around to save him from the giant bird-like creature that had bitten his leg clean off with its razor sharp teeth. It was a miracle he even survived; he still had nightmares about it.

Not noticing the sickly shade of green his friend's face was turning, Captain Braveheart returned his attention to the water ahead, his hands on the ship's wheel to ensure they remained on course. He was positive they were getting close now, not much longer left to journey before the crown would be in his hands. He could almost feel the cool metal atop his head, the immense power that would accompany it.

Peggy sighed at the determined glint in his Captain's eyes. He knew it was too late to try and change his mind; the only thing left to do now was pray to the Sea Gods that Braveheart was right.

"Easy-peasy, if not a little breezy," Peggy grumbled, the sarcastic remark luckily carried away by the wind before it got the chance to reach Braveheart's ears. The Captain didn't take too kindly to rudeness, not even from Peggy.