Dead Man's Redemption

Chapter - 1 The Lien

The moonlight speared the cloudy night sky of the Caribbean as it fell upon the enormous castle by the shore of the La Isla del Verano. Castle Verano was standing bold against the darkness of night beyond. It stood there as if invoked from the novel of a French writer. Every stone was precise and square as if those who built it were the perfectionist of their fields. As if they were in love with what they made. Those walls were built to protect a family, to echo with laughter and be the shelter they needed for the millennia to come, especially from the treacherous atrocity of those who ruled the sea without law. The aged yet strong structure that stood tall with arrogance was the property of Sir Lord Bedwyr Cunningwell. Who ordered its construction precisely fifty years ago when the Duke of Uswaria gifted it to him in honour of his servitude as the commander of his army during the war with the bordering countries. The man governed the isle with pride, and his subjects respected him for the very same. It is no lie that the trade flourished due to his command. The reason being that Sir Bedwyr was a far incomparable businessman than he ever was a soldier. But even the almighty sun sets at the end of the day, Sir Bedwyr's ruling days came to an end, and so did his life. He left everything to his only son when the old man died twenty-one years ago on the exact same day his granddaughter was born. To everyone's surprise, Bedwyr Cunningwell was not buried on the land he ruled for so long. Instead, his body was buried on the grounds of the country he fought for - Uswaria. The nobleman's last order was a tomb for himself, just like that, of an Egyptian ruler. And various of his invaluable possessions were buried alongside him in that tomb.

But what counted now was the arrival of a ship which wasn't supposed to be there. The ship was like no other ship which had ever sailed in the far-reaching ocean. The Flying Dutchman sailed with the thundering clangour, which sent chills down the spine of the crew of the other ship. The very sight of that ominous ship sent any mortal man praying for his dear life. Many sailors claim it ascends from the ocean depths, its rigging draped in seaweed and its sails glowing like fire. It speeds across the flat water when all other ships are becalmed. Its very beams sigh with human voices, weighed down with a century of weary toil. But a ship is nothing without its Captain, and the leader of this Le monster des profondeures was the dreaded Davy Jones. The whole of the ocean feared even the hint of that man's name. Even speaking his name made the mortals break into a cold sweat. And presently, Captain Davy Jones's vessel of death was heading towards La Isla del Verano to collect a debt from a man whose debt had been long overdue.

The Dutchman halted far from the shore as its deformed crew boarded the boats to row towards the shore as their Captain, stationed himself at the bridge. Unlike his crew, Captain Jones could not step onto the land before his waiting of ten years was complete. A curse gifted to him by the goddess of sea Calypso. Only a fortnight was left before the day was to come again when he could feel the firmness land below his feet. But was there anything for him on the land, wondered Jones as his ears were filled with the noise of guns and cannon firing, the metal of the swords clashing against each other but every other sound fell flat against that of horrified screaming. A sadistic chuckle escaped his scaly lips as the Captain imagined the horrified faces of the people on seeing immortal deformed men in an attacking stance. All this wouldn't have happened only if a man would have been true to his words, but corruption indeed is buried deep inside the heart of men. It didn't take his men long to drag the culprit out of his castle as he saw the deformed crew hauling a middle-aged man who appeared to be begging for mercy which he was being denied of. It was amusing to see the man wailing and penuriously trying to escape the grip of the men as they threw him on the rowboat. Adjusting his hat, Captain Jones took his time making his way toward the flying bridge, where his eyes fell upon the hostage who was being forced aboard the Dutchman. A mocking smile danced on his scaly lips as he amused himself with the plight of the poor man.