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East of the Caribbean Posted 6/30/2007 8:57:19 AM Still a day's sail from Tortuga, the shout came from the crow's nest. "Sail 'ho!" Climbing up to the quarter deck, Cocklyn scanned the horizon with his spyglass. "A schooner, Mister Beerjen." Picking up on a flicker of red at the top of the mainmast, he smiled. "Men, it seems the Shark's comin'!" He turned to face his crew. "Do we run? Or do we send 'er down to Davy Jones?" Cheers came from every man on deck. The Schooner Dead was closing in fast, attempting to come along broadside. "Bring 'er about and load the guns! Bring out the sweeps." Both ships came alongside each other at the same time and canons fired, filling the air with smoke. Drawing his rapier, Cocklyn shouted over the din. "Mister Beerjen, set our trap, if ye please!" "Aye, sir!" Boarding hooks were thrown from the clipper's decks and the crew set to pulling the ships closer, lashing them together. Grapplings were thrown from the schooner by her crew. They began boarding and confusion and mayhem ensued. A black clad figure jumped from the schooner. A boarding axe in each hand, she slammed into the side of the Calypso's Fury and pulled herself up onto the main deck, drawing her cutlasses. The two captains saw each other at the same moment, moving to engage. Cocklyn struggled to hold his own against Delaney's supernatural speed and strength, but not as much as he portrayed. Allowing her to think she held more of an advantage than was actually the case, he coaxed her further into the confusion on the decks of his ship. "Mister Beerjen!" His first mate's voice came from somewhere in the battling throng. "Aye sir! Cut the lines!" Caught in powerful currents, the sudden separation of the two ships sent the decks rising beneath their feet and Delaney stumbled backward. Snapping his arm across with a sudden burst of movement, Cocklyn cut deeply into her arm forcing her to drop one sword. Screaming in anger, and unable to get her sword, the captain of the Schooner Dead was forced to retreat to get to her feet. Unwilling to give her a chance to recover or to take note of what else was happening between the ship, Cocklyn pressed on, his rapier cutting through the air with great speed and skill. "I know what ye are, Delaney. I'll not be giving up!" He knocked her backward into the helm, and the captain of the Schooner Dead stared at him with near insane gleam in her eye. Laughing, she dropped her cutlass to the wooden deck and put her arms out wide, walking into into his sword. "If you know what I am, then you know I can't die." Keeping the tip of his rapier pressed against her stomach, Cocklyn drew his pistol, aimed to the side and fired. "Well, that was a waist of shot." "Was it?" Cocklyn looked to where he had fired, the flash from the shot igniting a fuse that, in the confusion and mayhem of battle, no one from the massive warship noticed being laid by Beerjen. Delaney's eyes followed the crackling spark as it traveled from the Calypso's Fury to the Schooner Dead, jumping ahead to where the fuse ended - a gunpowder barrel on her ship's main deck, just above her ammo stocks. A horrified realization crept across her face. Her battle forgotten, her life-threatening position forgotten, she stood aghast as a moment knowing there was nothing that could be done. The first explosion shattered the mainmast, shredding the main deck and igniting the ammo stocks. The fighting aboard the Calypso's Fury stopped as all eyes turned to the see the second explosion, set off by the first, tear the Schooner Dead in two and her crew dropped their weapons in surrender. Smirking at the site, the cheers of his men nearly deafening around him, Cocklyn turned to find Delaney unconscious on the deck. The silver faded from her hair, leaving it shining black, her skin no longer pearlescent but creamy white. Beerjen stumbled up to the quarter deck. "Cap'n?" "Take her to my quarters." "Bad luck, sir, teh be havin' a woman on board." Cocklyn only looked at him in reply before turning to see to the surrendered crew of the Schooner Dead. His first mate nodding his head, "Aye, sir." (0) Comments

November 19, 1778 Posted 6/23/2007 9:05:34 AM Crimson's invulnerability lies in the Schooner Dead. She wants me dead and that will be her downfall. I will giver her a target she can't ignore and when she comes for me, her ship will meet it's end. Taking her immortality with it. I have a plan. But Keto's words haunt me. "Be cautious," she had said. "That in your desire to make the Selkie woman pay for her attack on your ship, you do not become consumed by it. Do not allow yourself to become that which you are hunting or you will suffer the same fate as she." The goddess has always spoken in riddles and while I think I understand what she meant, where Keto's concerned a mortal man can never be sure. Not that it matters much. I'll be keeping my word, and take the Selkie wench to Keto on Hesperides. But not until after I've kept my word to myself and seen the standard of the Schooner Dead sink beneath the waves. But as yet, there's nothing to encourage us. Nine weeks we've been sailing the north Atlantic and while we've taken our fair share of loot from the merchants, we've naught seen sail nor hull o the Schooner Dead. We're riding low in the water, the hold is full of booty and we've no choice but to make port for a time. It will do the men good to get off the ship awhile. Tortuga is our next port o call. (2) Comments

Beyond the Veil Posted 6/18/2007 1:37:55 AM Oceanus, the World Ocean, is a ribbon of raging water that circled the world just beyond the Veil. It was a place, an entire world, unto itself, guarded by monsters and attainable only to the few who knew its secret. Cocklyn was one of those few. When the Calypso's Fury reached the equator, the captain himself took the helm. Steering his ship with perfect skill, he brought her aligned with the zero degree latitude just as the sun became level with the moon on their respective horizons. A great mist suddenly enveloped the ship as she sailed through the Veil between the Spirit World and that of Mortal Men. When the mist finally thinned, sleet cut mercilessly into the flesh of the men on deck as they found themselves fighting to keep their ship aright on a violent ocean of black waters. The wheel tight in his hands, Cocklyn kept Calypso's Fury on course, headed straight for a speck of land on the horizon. Although they sailed for some time, it never seemed to get any closer and so the crew was surprised when their captain shouted above the storm for them to drop anchor and prepare an away boat. For a moment, they stood staring at each other. "Do it, ye dogs before I tie ye to the ropes and throw ye overboard to stop the ship!" As the men scurried around to get the anchors dropped, Cocklyn turned to his first mate. "Mister Beerjen, I'll be going ashore with two men." "But sir, the island's too far!" Catching the look in his captain's eyes, Beerjen nodded. "Aye, sir." "If the storm changes direction before we return, weigh anchor and turn the Calypso's Fury a hundred an' eighty degrees. Stop for nothin' until yer clear of the storm! Is that understood?" "Aye, sir!" A small away boat was lowered into the dangerously choppy water and two men rowed their captain toward the tiny island in the distance. It was not long before the vessel came to a jarring halt as it unexpectedly ran aground on a beach of ice. Glancing over his shoulder at the shocked expressions on his men's faces, Cocklyn smirked. "Ye'd be wise to take note that nothing here is what it appears to be. Distance and Time aren't the same here as they be in our world." Hopping out of the boat, the moment their feet touched the frozen shore their boots sank deep into warm sand and all three men found themselves standing on the warm, sun-drenched Isle of Hesperides. Before them, stretching in every direction, lay a magnificent garden filled with thousands of trees bearing perfect apples. "What is this place, Cap'n?" "Gaia's wedding gift to Hera, the apple grove which offers both immortality and eternal damnation to mortal men, the Garden of Hesperides." Cocklyn glanced over his shoulder at his men. "The most dangerous things on this island, be the most innocent looking. Take warning stay as far from the grove as possible." Long-time members of his crew, neither man questioned the captain's words. Taking his advice to heart, they made themselves comfortable on the sandy shore with their backs to the tempting garden. Knowing time to be against him, Cocklyn nearly ran as he made his way down a narrow overgrown path to the center of the island. A distance that, while it appeared to be short, turned out to take longer than he would have liked and it seemed hours before he reached the massive waters at the islands's heart, the waters that were in fact all the oceans of the Mortal World made one. Standing on the very edge of the water, but careful not to let the gently lapping waves touch his boots, he spoke calmly as if his listener were right beside him. "I have only a short while, and ye know I'm here." The waters stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, before rising to take the shape of a beautiful woman on the glassy surface; water given solid form in intricate detail. The avatar of the goddess of sea dangers - whales, large sharks and sea-monsters. Keto's watery face turned in the captain's direction, her voice as gentle as the lapping waves of the world's oceans and just as capable sudden violent changes. "Drake Cocklyn comes to me again, does he? No longer a boy, but a man who stands before me now. Why seek you me?" "I'm hunting a monster." "One of my children?" It was unclear by the goddess's voice whether she was angry or amused. "The monster is a pirate who attacked my ship, without cause. I won't rest until I see her dangling from the end of a rope." "I do not interfere in the affairs of mortal men." Cocklyn was not easily put off. "I'm convinced Crimson Delaney's far from a mere mortal woman." "You seek knowledge of the 'Shark'?" "Aye." "And what is it you plan on doing, if I give you the information you seek?" "I plan on killing her." "A task more difficult than you could ever imagine." Keto's liquid form glided across the surface to the water's very edge and Cocklyn cautiously stepped back. "But I do not give aid freely. Bring her to me alive and I will tell you how you may defeat the 'monster' you seek." When the goddess reached out a slender, watery hand to trace a finger along his rough cheek, Cocklyn snapped his head back out of reach and Keto giggled as she withdrew her hand. "I'd ask what ye want her for, but I don't think I want to know." "You want her punished for her attack on your ship, and she will be. That is all that should concern you. Do we have an agreement?" Cocklyn hesitated, but only a moment. "We have an accord." Silence fell across the waters as the goddess began... "Crimson Delaney, as you call her, was once one of the mer-folk, a Selkie. Long ago, she fell in love with the captain of a merchant schooner. At sea, she would follow his ship throughout his travels and would shed her seal skin to be with him whenever he was in port. A few months into their affair, the captain found her seal skin and hid it, making her his human wife Although she longed for her ocean home, Crimson never bothered to look for her seal skin because she was so in love with the mortal captain, wishing only to be with him. Besides, as long as her seal skin was intact, she retained a many of her sea magicks. But whilst away, the captain met a human woman and betrayed Crimson with her. In his actions, he carelessly burned his Selkie wife's skin, forever trapping her in her mortal form. "Consumed with painful sorrow and rage at his cruel act of betrayal, Crimson waited for him to return to the sea and with the remnants of her Selkie magicks, she sank his schooner with all hands in the Arctic Ocean north of Britainia. From the frozen depths, she raised the ship once more, and with the last of her powers, she bound her immortality to it, giving the ship unnatural speed upon the ocean's surface." "But how do I defeat her?" "Crimson can be wounded, but she is immortal so long as her ship remains afloat. Her ship is her strength, but it is also her weakness. The further from her ship she is, the more vulnerable and weak she is; on land, especially away from the shore she is weakest." "So to destroy her immortality, I need to destroy her ship." "Yes. But remember, Drake Cocklyn, you're to bring her to me alive." The winds changed the captain knew he was running out of time. "Ye have me word. I'll bring her to ye alive. But she'll be mortal." (1) Comments

September 1, 1778 Posted 6/13/2007 11:01:25 AM The green clouds dispersed, the wind picked up and I watched the Schooner Dead make way with an impossible speed. No ship with sixty canons should've been able to move so fast; it was strange at the very least. Calypso's Fury weighed anchor soon afterward and we lost no time in gettin' away from the warships. I wish I could get away from the memory of Delaney so easily. Somethin's unnatural about the woman. I shot her across the belly and she hardly took note! No blood, no sign of pain; she looked as if I'd done not more that hit her with handle! She's a demon, she must be. No human could act in such away, no human could hide the pain she must've felt so well. I don't know what she is or magicks she been usin' to give her ship such speed and agility, but I know where to find the answers I need. We sail for a garden of the Hesperides on the distant blessed island at the edge of the World Ocean and the one person who holds the answer whenever monsters of the sea are concerned. Since Oceanus can only be reached when the veil between the worlds is thinnest, we'll have to race the wind to reach the isle by the autumn equinox. It's a dangerous journey. The Isle of the Hesperides is inhabited by the Gorgons and filled with tempting fruits of perfection; apples, that once eaten by mortal men damn them to the island and to a fate as prey for the serpentine demons. Even while resisting the tempting foods and avoiding the Gorgons, we run the danger of being trapped by the progression of time. The veil between the worlds remains thin for only a short time and if we don't leave by the time it passes, we'll be doomed to stay. But I know in my gut that it will be more dangerous for the Calypso's Fury to face the Schooner Dead without knowing more about her captain. And I know we cannot simply part ways in peace. I'll never forgive Delaney for attacking my ship or shooting one of my men. And I know she'll not suffer me sailing free. (1) Comments

Anchored west of the Azores Posted 6/11/2007 9:20:42 AM Voices were hushed on deck and even below. The fog, like an oppressive blanket, hung on the men weighing down spirits, despite those being passed around in bottles. Sailors were a superstitious lot to begin with and pirates were no exception. First Mate Beerjen groped his way up to the quarter deck, where Cocklyn stood with hands clasped behind his back, staring into the fog inches in front of his nose. "Sir, - " "Shhh!" Coming closer, Beerjen whispered. "Sir, the men are gettin' antsy. This fog...it's...it's unnatural." The captain raised a finger to silence him. "There's a ship nearby." Looking around, the first mate only saw the solid white of fog. "How d'ye know?" "Listen, you can hear the voices echoing." Both men fell silent and indeed, they could hear soft voices on the still air. "Female voices, argh, bad luck that be, Cap'n! Probably mermaids tryin' to lead us into the rocks, or seasprites of our fallen crew come fer revenge!" Cocklyn did not doubt the tales of such creatures, but when the water suddenly became choppy and the Calypso's Fury bobbed beneath their feet, he was certain that the voices belonged the living women and men aboard a ship. A shadow in the mist drew his attention to the side and the captain found himself staring at a canon door on the port side of the largest schooner he had ever seen. "Oh shit." His voice was so quiet, that Cocklyn's lips seemed to move without a sound. Slowly lifting his gaze, his sharp eyes quickly surveyed what he could see of the ship's topside. At least ten sailors in sight, although by the ship's size alone he guessed there to be more; seven women and three men. Inevitably, his hazel eyes rose to the top of the mainmast. No standard hung from the ropes. Cocklyn was not really surprised. Snapping his arm into Beerjen's chest, he drew his First Mate's attention to the starboard side. "Ready the canons below deck...quietly." "Aye, Cap'n." By now, every man on the main deck of the Calypso's Fury had noticed the larger ship alongside and were staring in disbelief. A harsh wind picked up, dispersing the swirling mists in the blink of an eye and the crew of the other ship finally took note of the smaller clipper. A tall, narrow man with darkly tanned skin and thick black hair pinned back in chunky braids hailed. "Ahoy, Calypso's Fury! What brings ye to the North Atlantic?" "How do ye know my ship?" The man grinned. "There's not a ship on the Atlantic that we don't know." "Well, ye have me at a disadvantage. Who be I addressin' and on what ship?" Cocklyn maintained his confident stance, though he was less than happy about finding himself practically staring down the long nines of an enemy ship. No, there had been no threat as such, but the ship's resemblance to the Shark was disconcerting to at the very least and the captain of the Calypso's Fury was a man who survived by taking as few chances as possible where opposition was concerned. The man on the other ship looked to the helm of the schooner and Cocklyn followed his stare to the entirely black clad figure silently standing at it, a man motionless on either side. The outline was human, but that was all he could tell. It wore a shirt, leather gloves, pants and boots, and a wide leather belt about the waist from which hung a cutlass on either side. Around its shoulders it wore a long cape with a deep hood pulled up over its head, completely shadowing the face making it difficult to tell who or what hid within. A silent understanding seemed to pass between the two, and the figure strode forward to lean on the railing of the quarter deck, followed closely by the two men. "You are addressing Crimson Delaney, captain of the Schooner Dead." The voice of the figure was the sweetest of melodies, Cocklyn had ever heard. A beautiful sound that made him close his eyes; the better to enjoy it, hoping the lady captain would speak again. Down on the main deck of the Calypso's Fury, one of the men snorted. "The Schooner Dead? Whot sort a' bloody fool came up with that name?" Cocklyn hardly heard the comment. His eyes still closed, he did not see Delaney snap around to the man on her right, draw the pistol he carried in his sash and aim it at the speaker. It was only the sound of the shot that startled him from the spell her voice seemed to have put him under. Eyes flying open, he spun around in time to see one of his men fall dead, shot through the heart. The man who had originally addressed the Calypso's Fury, nodded to his captain still standing with pistol aimed. "That would be the 'bloody fool'." A surge of fury shot through Cocklyn's veins, which quickly turned into shock as he realized every cnon door on the port side of the Schooner Dead was open, guns readied. The red banner of the Shark of the North Atlantic with its skull and crossed cutlasses fluttering in a breeze that did not grace the clipper. Delaney handed the pistol back to the man she had taken it from. "You have yet to answer the question posed, Captain Cocklyn. What brings the Calypso's Fury to my waters?" Cocklyn fought to keep his voice even and his temper in check. For a man who prided himself on being able to read people's thoughts by the look in their eyes, the fact that he could not see Delaney's face was maddening. Whispering over his shoulder to Beerjen, he gave the order to make ready for battle and the ship's standard was raised. "Ye answer a question of me own, first! Nearly two months ago, ye attacked Calypso's Fury while she lay anchored in Port Il Al Mien. Why?" "We attacked your ship?" Delaney's melodious voice was mocking as she turned slowly, looking Cocklyn's ship from stern to prow and back again. "Well, so we did! New repairs to the mainmast, starboard rail, and even your cabin!" Her laughter was as musical as her voice and Cocklyn had to fight to keep his wits about him. Though he could not see her face within the shadows of her hood, he could feel Delaney's eyes on him as she continued. "Not our best work, but we'll soon rectify that. Mister Bradley! Give our friends a taste of the lower guns!" Cocklyn called to his own men and soon the ten feet of air between the ships was filled with gun smoke. Voices were raised to shouts above the deafening thunder of canon fire as both ships shuddered with each violent impact. Having the advantage of height, the crew of the Schooner Dead was able to rain down stink pots and hand grenades on the shorter clipper. Cocklyn knew he had to get some distance between the two and took over the helm, yelling orders to his men all the while. A wind had picked up, giving him more speed in the way of distancing the Calypso's Fury from the schooner, but not enough before grapplings were thrown across and Delaney's crew began boarding. "Damn!" Cocklyn drew his rapier as he struggled to keep his ship under control and as far from the Schooner Dead as possible. Two pirates from the ship charged him and soon fell dead to his sword. Lashing the wheel to hold it steady, the captain looked up to find a dark clad figure standing in the rigging just over my head. "Delaney!" Jumping back, Cocklyn kept his rapier at the ready, its blood-stained blade flashing in the sunlight as the captain of the Schooner Dead dropped to the deck. Drawing her cutlasses, she came to stand in front of him. "For a captain to leave his ship is forfeit." Delaney stalked toward him, spinning her swords with a confident ease. "Unless she's left the helm to kill another captain before sinking his ship." Fighting to keep his wits about him against her voice, Cocklyn was forced into retreating steps as she charged, his rapier desperately trying to keep up with the two cutlasses. Known for being a master of swordsmanship essentially unbeatable to any opponent, it was a strange feeling for him to be so hard pressed. Delaney's movements were skilled and incredibly fast. Finally able to pin one sword, the captain of the Calypso's Fury lost no time in grabbing her other wrist, snapping her arm around and slamming her backward into the helm wheel. The hood of her cape fell backward and Cocklyn got his first glimpse of Crimson Delaney's face. That pearlescent skin and silvery hair. Those grey eyes, flashing like the lightning of a storm at sea. "What the hell?" For a moment, Cocklyn forgot to breath as he stared in shock at the serving girl from the Broken Cutlass. It was no trick of the light, it was the same girl; though now her beautiful face seemed marred by the incredible hatred that burned in her eyes, her figure no longer willowy but the lithe form of a woman who had spent a good deal of her life on a ship. Taking advantage of his surprise, Delaney yanked her arm free of his grasp but before she could bring her cutlass to bare, Cocklyn recovered from his surprise. Thinking fast, he drew his revolver from the front of his belt, aimed and fired. Delaney twisted away, but the shot still managed to tear through her clothing, cutting deep into her side. Not a mortal wound, but a dangerous one nonetheless. Delaney looked down at the wound, but if she felt pain her calm expression did not show it. Instead she lifted her grey eyes to meet Cocklyn's gaze and smiled confidently. In a blur of movement and dizzying footwork, the two crossed blades again and again. "Shouldn't ye have been on board when yer ship was sinkin' ships in the harbor?" "What's the use of sinking a ship, Captain Cocklyn, if the captains are onshore alive and well?" Fighting to get her cutlasses around her opponent's quick defenses, Delaney continued, "If you must know, I was killing the captains that I knew Schooner Dead would miss!" Snapping his rapier around, Cocklyn blocked a cutlass swing at his side, stepping forward inside her range, bringing them chest to chest with their swords out wide. "Then why didn't ye try to kill me?" The wind abruptly stopped and both captains looked up in time to see thick green clouds begin to gather and swirl overhead and flashes of silent lightning reflect off the suddenly placid ocean. Silence fell and even the fighting on the main deck ceased. The confident smirk left Delaney's face as she quick-stepped backward from her opponent. Having noticed the approach of no less than seven British frigates accompanying a hulk coming in their direction from the east, Cocklyn became more concerned with the keeping his ship afloat and his crew from the gibbet. Turning to Delaney, he took note of the fear in her eyes. "Do we part ways fer now an' live to fight another day? Or do we stay here sparrin' and end up dancin' with Jack Ketch?" As if noticing him for the first time, Delaney seemed to fight to recapture her hatred. Snapping her cutlasses into their sheathes, she gave a sharp nod of her head and called for her crew to return to the Schooner Dead. (1) Comments

August 31, 1778 Posted 6/7/2007 9:42:07 AM The Atlantic has always been my home. Familiar waters I've traveled since I was a boy of thirteen. I know every current, every wind, every island and shore. But the North Atlantic is no longer known to me. She's different, strange; another world. The waters are no longer blue, but grey as if a storm were churning it into a lather though it remain calm upon the surface. Not a cloud mars the sky and yet the brightness of day is dim. The weather is erratic and restless. It snows in terrible heat, storms rage without winds and even when the night sky is clear the stars refuse to shine. What's more, we have yet to spy a single ship on the sea. It's as if every vessel between North America and Europe and North Africa have disappeared from their trade routes. Even when we come within sight of land, the harbors are bare. Something I can only attribute to the "Shark of the North Atlantic", who had so recently visited the South Atlantic; the memory of which still brings red before my eyes! Weeks have passed since we crossed the Equator and began prowling the "Shark's" waters. Weeks of this maddening weather, with no sails in sight and only the increasing anxiety in the bellies of the crew. An anxiety I'm inclined to agree with, for this morning I saw a sight that not a man on board could claim to have ever before witnessed. Shortly after sunrise, a waterspout was spotted off the port bow. Nothing so strange in itself, and yet I found myself captivated by it. For many a long while, I watched it twisting on the surface of the water and soon grow into a massive storm. Green clouds filled with lightning swirled overhead but the air remained stagnant and the sea calm. It was an otherworldly experience that lasted all afternoon before fading into nothingness with a sudden rising wind leaving a heavy fog in its wake. When I last charted our position, we were seven nautical miles west of the Azores and the moment couldn't see beyond the prow, I had the men drop anchor. My guess is we can't be more than two more miles beyond that. It's nearly midnight and this unnatural fog has yet to thin. It's still too thick to see anything past a foot in front of our faces. (1) Comments

The south Atlantic Posted 6/4/2007 10:11:01 AM If Captain Cocklyn had thought that after the attack on the Calypso's Fury his anxiety would abate, he was sorely disappointed. Anger and frustration replaced the tension. It was nearly three weeks before the ship was even capable of sailing again and another week of constant repairs at sea before she was back to normal. The time lost that he and his crew could have been stalking the South Atlantic and the enemy that had so easily gotten away, infuriated him to no end. The crew was well aware of their captain's restless wrath and were careful to avoid him whenever possible. When the Calypso's Fury returned to her usual hunting grounds between Brazil and Africa, they kept a vigilant watch for potential victims on the horizon, hoping for an uplifting distraction. Cocklyn kept watch as well, specifically for a ship with a red banner. Standing on the bridge deck, his First Mate at the helm, he searched the waters in vane, his spyglass viewing nothing but placid blue waters ahead. "Sail ho!" Cocklyn looked up to the crow's nest to find the lookout pointing aft. Through his spyglass, he could see the vessel clearly. A clipper like his own ship, at full sail and unwittingly headed straight for the pirate ship. A smile crept across the captain's weathered face as he called out to his men, "Raise the union jack! Let's bring her a bit closer, before we show ourselves." Cheers went up as the excitement of approaching battle filled the air. Every man on the Calypso's Fury had his task and went about it with well practiced speed and skill. Grapplings were laid out, canons were readied, and the sweeps were brought out. Fifteen year old Jim Brown watched the captain standing on the quarter deck. For many weeks he had wrestled with the idea of speaking to Cocklyn about the ship that had attacked the Calypso's Fury. But every time he thought he had mustered up enough courage, he remembered the countless men he had seen fall to the quick tempered captain's rapier and immediately lost his nerve. Now, with Cocklyn's pent up rage focused elsewhere, he saw his chance. Hesitantly, Jim climbed the steps to stand behind the captain stood, watching the approaching merchant ship through his spyglass. "Sir?" "Ye shouldn't be up here boy." Cocklyn never lowered the spyglass or looked at the boy as he shouted over his shoulder, "Haul the jack!" The British flag was brought down, replaced by the standard of the Calypso's Fury, a black field emblazoned with a skull with swords crossed beneath it. Realizing their folly, the merchant vessel tried to change course, but it was too late. "Bring a spring upon 'er cable!" The pirate ship bogged down with the sudden shift in direction, coming around alongside her prey. Canon doors on both ships swung open and gunpowder filled the air as the pirates swung their grappling hooks over into the merchant's sails and rigging. Jim was not discouraged. Cocklyn was busy shouting commands, not even glancing in his direction. It was now or never. "Sir, it's about what happened at Il Al Mien." At the mention of the port, Cocklyn lowered the spyglass, turning to stare at the lad, the look in his hazel eyes hard and angry. "What about Il Al Mien?" "Th-the sh-ship that attacked. I seen it a'fore. It's the same one what sank me old ship Tempest." The merchant ship put up a good fight but were soon overpowered and outmatched by the ruthless crew of the Calypso's Fury. Cocklyn hardly noticed. "What's the name of the ship? Where does she make berth?" When the boy hesitated over his words, he grabbed hold of his shirt. "Tell me!" Still the boy said nothing and he pulled him around, pressing him back against the railing of the deck. "Tell me or by the powers I'll feed ye to the sharks!" "I-I don't know 'er name, sir. No one does! They call 'er the Shark of the North Atlantic, no one knows what 're real name is or where she makes berth, 'cause no one survives crossin' 'er path!" Cheers went up as the merchant ship brought down her colors and surrendered. "Shark of the North Atlantic?" Cocklyn rolled the name on his tongue. He had heard rumors of the ship with it's reputation for sinking anything with sails and was well aware that the Pirate Lords of the American and Spanish Mains had a huge bounty on the head of the ship's captain for that very reason. "What was she doin' this far south?" "I-I don't know, sir." Cocklyn let go of the cabin boy, who gratefully ran down to the main deck to help his shipmates bring loot aboard. It was not long before the crew of the Calypso's Fury had stripped the merchant vessel of every piece of valuable cargo and left it far behind. A group of men that any pirate captain would be proud to command; fearless at sea, ferocious in battle, and above all, loyal to their own. Standing next to his First Mate at the helm, Cocklyn reached out his hands calling for attention. "Lads! Two months ago we were attacked without cause! Our ship, support of our livelihood, wrecked assunder without provication! Do we stand by and let the villain go without retribution?" Shouts came from every man. "Nay!" "Or do we hunt her down and send her to the bottom of the ocean?" The men cheered their approval and Cocklyn continued. "Even when the ship we hunt is the Shark of the North Atlantic?" A momentary silence hovered over the men until Beerjen cleared his throat. "We're behind ye, sir. No one attacks Calypso's Fury and sails away free!" A hundred male voices shouted, "Aye!" The grin on Cocklyn's face was almost predatory. "Then it would seem Calypso's Fury has new hunting grounds! Mister Beerjen! Bring 'er about. We sail for the Shark of the North Atlantic!" (2) Comments

June 6, 1778 Posted 6/2/2007 10:05:52 AM (1) Comments

Port Il Al Mien Posted 5/30/2007 11:06:37 AM The pirate’s life on a ship was similar to any sailor at sea. Bedtime was early and he slept in a hammock below deck. His living quarters were airless, cramped, and overcrowded with little privacy. Meals were eaten in the Great Cabin below deck with everyone else, the captain included. Food was basically the same day in and day out, dried or salted meat and biscuits. To top it all off, Drake Cocklyn, Captain of the Calypso's Fury, was a demanding commander of his crew and of himself. Heavy drinking was always part of every meal, providing a distraction from the harshness and boredom of life at sea along with the dancing and singing to the music of a fiddle. It was no wonder that the crew of the Calypso were more than anxious to reach shore, drink like mad men, fight and purchase beautiful companionship for the night. Once ashore, every man went his own way and Cocklyn headed for the Broken Cutlass, a stinking, dirty, noisy tavern that was his favorite place in the world second only to the Calypso's Fury. Finding an empty table at the very back, the captain sat down with a mug of ale, quickly becoming lost in his own thoughts. Something was still bothering him but what bothered him more was the fact the he did not know what. The tavern became more crowded with louder and more rowdy customers. Voices were raised, fights broke out and every so often the sound of breaking glass would cut through the din. But everyone avoided the lone man at the back of the room. Captain Drake Cocklyn's reputation preceeded him and every man who valued his life knew better than to bother the "Dragon of the Sea". So it was a surprise when a bottle shattered against the wall next to his head. Looking up, Cocklyn's hazel eyes roamed across the drunken sailors, most of whom were too busy with their own diversions to take notice. That was when he saw the serving girl. She had not been working at the tavern the last time the Calypso was in port, nearly a year and a half before; he was sure of it. With her pearlescent white skin, willowy figure, grey eyes and hair that was shimmering silver hair despite her young age, the captain would have easily remembered. Cocklyn found himself enjoying the view more than he had all night and for the first time in many days, his anxiety was momentarily forgotten. He found it humorous that she avoided his table, refusing to even look in his direction or take note of his stare. Smirking into his mug, he drained the last of his ale but did not order another. Instead he kicked back in his chair and contented himself with watching the shy young serving girl as she moved about taking orders to the bar and drinks to the tables. The hours passed by quicker with his attentions focused elsewhere and Cocklyn was disappointed when the girl slipped away from the tavern, her work shift evidently ended. Beerjen and Conlin, two men from the Calypso, followed her. Off his ship, he did not care what his men did. Nevertheless, the captain was on his feet before he knew it and out the door. The streets of Il Al Mien were just as crowded as the taverns with pirates, whores and all other manners of people in various acts of drinking, violence and sex. But even through the murder and mayhem, Cocklyn had little trouble following his men in their pursuit of the serving girl. He was a sharp-eyed man, used to searching for the minute on the horizon. The girl seemed aware of them, glancing over her shoulder and hastening her pace, soon disappearing around a corner, down an alley. Cocklyn caught up in time to see Beerjen and Conlin throw her to the ground. "Now is that any way to treat a lady?" The familiarity of the raspy voice drew the men's attention and they looked up to find their captain standing confidently at the alley's entrance. Caught off guard, they stumbled over their responses. "Cap'n, we were just - " "What we means teh say, sir - " "We's jus' havin' fun 's all." Cocklyn's hard expression never betrayed his thoughts, his eyes never left his men. "There's plenty of other companionship that can be bought here, but ye'll be leaving this one to me." Beerjen nodded his head, pulling Conlin behind him as he left the alley. "Sorry, sir. Didn' realize ye had yer eyes on this 'un." His eyes following them, the captain waited until they were further up the street before turning to the serving girl, still huddled on the ground, staring up at his with flickering grey eyes that reminded him of storm clouds at sea. What Cocklyn found strange was that even as he walked up to her, he sensed no fear only confusion. He offered a hand to help her to her feet and she started to take it, but hesitated. "Come now, have I given ye any reason to fear me?" Apparently deciding that he had not, the girl took his hand and the captain pulled her to her feet; the slender fingers of her small hand feeling soft against his hard, calloused palm. With a quick snap of his arm he pulled her into him, his arm tight about her waist and she started to struggle, but to no avail. Hardened by years on the sea, Drake Cocklyn was by no means a weak man. It had been a long time since he had felt the warmth of a woman and he had no intention of letting the young woman who had so captured his attentions leave so easily. But as he stared into her eyes, felt her heartbeat through his shirt and the slow rhythm of her breathing against his arm, Cocklyn realized he still did not feel womanly warmth; her skin was cold. Not cold and clammy like that of fear or illness, nor even the coolness of night on her flesh. If the captain had not known any better, he would have sworn her skin felt like he was touching the ocean in solid form. Looking her up and down with a languid gaze, the captain took a deep breath and released his hold, giving her a gentle push away. "Ye best be gettin' home, miss. The Calypso's Fury is in dock tonight and that makes these streets a bit more dangerous than they normally are." Staring at him in surprise, the girl paused only for a second before turning and running down the alley, disappearing into the darkness. Cocklyn watched her go, wiping a hand over his short straggly beard, but was given little chance to think about what had just happened. Canon fire tore through the night. (2) Comments

June 3, 1778 Posted 5/28/2007 6:52:47 AM (3) Comments

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General Comments Mistletoe Posted 12/24/2007 3:31:33 AM ARRRR! Have a merry christmas, Captain! :o) Mistletoe Posted 12/3/2007 11:47:25 AM Wishing you a great new week. :o) I hope your life settles down again soon. *hug* Mistletoe Posted 12/3/2007 11:46:37 AM It's ok, i'm a worrywart, always worrying about everything. LOL I feel a lot better now. I've been well, thanks for asking. :o) I just read your story again, it still makes me shiver. You're a great writer. :o) wierderthanthou Posted 11/30/2007 7:38:41 PM parley?..... wierderthanthou Posted 11/30/2007 7:35:34 PM You captain a ship....i captain a firefly....so, who gets to lead then? LOL Mistletoe Posted 11/29/2007 5:37:38 AM WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!!! :o) So great to see you here! *hughughug* I was getting SERIOUSLY worried because i couldn't get in touch with you...I'm 100 x better now after reading your comment. :o) Mistletoe Posted 11/20/2007 1:41:59 PM *sigh* :o( i won't leave until you come and say HI. so it's your fault then if i starve and die! *pout* where are you?????? *boohoo* Mistletoe Posted 8/12/2007 7:44:17 AM yo dude! where are you?? i'm getting worried here... :o( Mistletoe Posted 8/6/2007 3:05:59 PM WHERE IS MY FRIEND, THE CAPTAIN? :o( I miss you buddy! And i miss your stories. I hope everything is going well? *hug* COME BACK SOOOON! pinkmartini Posted 6/11/2007 12:07:56 PM Hi! I love your profile, it's so cool. I like pirates too, but your blogs are a little hard to read with that background and red letters. I'll try though, cuz you have me intrigued! Jkrapture Posted 5/30/2007 11:15:40 AM Nothing wrong with that... Jkrapture Posted 5/30/2007 11:09:51 AM Wow you are really into the pirates theme... LLCOOLWSR Posted 5/28/2007 10:16:38 AM Thank you, I appreciate that. LLCOOLWSR Posted 5/28/2007 9:32:46 AM Pretty original page. Nice! Please login to post a comment.