Remember Me (Thilbo - Bagginshield)

Though the Sea Rages

British West Indies, 1714
9th Life
The pirate and the carpenter
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The sea was endless.

For miles, in every direction, it was all that Franklin May could see. It seemed as if the blue expanse of the ocean stretched on forever, into infinite. Like he could just sail for the rest of his life, and never see any land.

May smiled, taking in a deep breath of salt-filled air. This is what he loved best about sailing - the days when the sky was clear, and the ocean never ended.

Behind him, a group of men broke out into loud, raucous laughter. It was sweltering hot outside, even with the cooling ocean breeze, and May had been forced to abandon his usual jacket. Typically, this weather made the men irritable and lethargic, but they were in high spirits that day. The prize they had been chasing for weeks was finally within their grasp and growing closer every hour. The sooner they captured the prize, the sooner they could return to Nassau, and the sooner the men could spend their earnings on drink and women.

"What are you bastards doing?" a loud voice asked, and May turned to see Roberts, the quartermaster, looking down at the laughing group of men. He had a grin on his own face as well, though he was trying unsuccessfully to school into a more serious expression. "Get back to work, you lazy pieces of shit."

The men grumbled quietly before standing and wandering off. Roberts watched them go, before turning to May, the smirk quickly returning to his face. "It's impossible to find good, hard-working crew, isn't it, Captain?" he asked, walking over and leaning against the railing beside May. "All they do is laze around, drinking and speaking of their various dalliances with Nassau's finest whores."

"There are some very fine whores in Nassau, though," May pointed out, and Roberts let out a barking laugh.

"If you have the coin, there are," he agreed. "Otherwise, you can never know what you'll end up with."

"Had some bad experiences, have you, Roberts?"

The quartermaster gave another chuckle, shaking his head. "More than you'd care to know."

"I don't doubt that," May admitted. Looking up, he watched a single cloud drift slowly across the sky as men climbed the rigging and adjusted the sails. He turned back towards Roberts, who was watching the sea with a distant look on his face. "Have you spoken to Quigley recently?" he asked.

"Aye, not too long ago," Roberts answered, his gaze remaining focused on the dark waters below them. "Why?"

"Did he say where we are?" May asked. "I'd like to know."

Roberts shrugged. "He might've, but I can't remember. I never listen to most of what that man has to say."

May scoffed, shaking his head. There was a pause, and his expression turned serious. "Do you suppose we'll find this merchant ship?" he asked.

Roberts let out a loud sigh, shrugging. "She could be days ahead of us, or days behind," he said. "But if she's stayed true to the schedule we received, it's likely we'll be seeing her shortly. She was heading for Spanish Town, and this is the route most British merchants take to Jamaica."

May said nothing for a moment, his gaze scanning the bare horizon that stretched on for miles in front of them. "We left Nassau nearly two weeks ago," he said. "The information that we received about the Princess Martha was found on a ship captured over a week before. It could have been horribly inaccurate, or the Princess Martha could have changed courses since then. Unlikely, but entirely possible."