Dead Man's Yarn - Tales from a New World

Dead men tell no tales.

A gentle breeze blew in over the calm waters as the waves lapped against the beach of what could only be described as paradise. A rapturous chorus of exotic birds echoed around the cove where two ships sat at odds with each other, gently bobbing upon the still waters, both galleons bared their fangs with a full broadside of cannons, that is until one of the rowboats began to be lowered from one of the ships.

The two ships flew different colours, the first ship which had been anchored in the cove for over a day flew the skull and crossbones across a black flag, while the new arrival flew a red flag with a radiant bird across it. It was the new arrival that was now lowering the rowboat, with a single occupant stood within it.

The rowboat splashed into the waters and the figure within jolted slightly but kept his balance. The figure wore a tight black suit with frills around the collar and wrists, and a jagged red tie hanging around his neck like a noose, his hair was as black a soot and bags hung under eyes with his sun kissed skin.

The man stretched out his left leg over the side of the rowboat and onto the water, he was barefoot, and as he did the water hissed and steamed under his tread and then his other foot followed, but he didn't sink, instead he walked upon the waters as if it was solid granite, he began a leisurely stroll across the water towards the other ship, leaving footprints of flame in his wake upon its surface.

There was about three hundred meters between the ships, and the unnatural stroll took a minute or so before the man was before the other, but all the way there he was under the gaze of hostile eyes.

"That's far enough!" A voice barked out from the deck of the ship the man approached. An elderly man with a pale powdered face and curly worn wig, which was more dust and dirt than anything else, he hobbled to the side of his ship, flanked by several armed men, a pistol gripped in his left hand, he slumped against the railing with his right arm propping him up.

"I am Captain Jules, what the hell do you want!?" Snapped the old man.

"Ah Captain, a pleasure I'm sure, I am B..." The figure stood upon the water was cut off.

"I don't care who or what you are, walk your wanker ass back across to your ship and sod off!" Jules gestured with his pistol and dozens of muskets pointed over the sides at the figure.

The figure sighed as he brushed his left hand over his head. "My oh my, I can't do that, you see this island is under my protection, and your crew have been ashore and... Sampled the local amenities, and now you have to make amends."

"I said sod off!" Sapped Jules again. "This island belongs to no one! We'll take what we want!"

"I didn't say I own it, it is under my protection, now you need to make payment." The figure glares at Jules, his gaze went straight through him.

Jules felt sweat upon his brow. "You've gotten on my last nerve boy! Lads, fire!" The flash and repeated cracks of black powder igniting were met with the roar of fire as the figure swept his right arm around and with it a cloak of flame, the balls of lead struck the cloak and melted to nothing, and as the cloak died down, almost as the echo of shots dissipated over the waters, all that was left was the raising smoke and the fear in the sailors faces.

"I see you've chosen your payments." Muttered the figure upon the water as his raised his left hand, his index finger pressed to his thumb.

The crew of Jules ship scrambled away across the deck as he barked for order, he tried to get the cannon crews to bring the guns to bare, but it was too late.

He just needed to get close. With a click of his fingers the ship before was engulfed in a firestorm as it spiralled up towards the sky like a coiled serpent, and as the wood buckled and groaned the ship tore itself apart, the screams of sailors drowning beneath the chaos.

The figure turned around and walked back to his ship, the sea hissing beneath his fee. "I know, we don't mix do we?"