a story as endless as the ocean . pjo / allie jackson

1.0 it's a bird, it's a plane

1.0 The Entrance to the Sea of Monsters Contains— Guess What... Monsters

"You guys are in so much trouble," Clarisse said, looking grim.

We'd just finished a ship tour we didn't want, through dark rooms overcrowded with dead sailors. We'd seen the coal bunker, the boilers, and engine, which huffed and groaned like it would explode any minute. We'd seen the pilothouse and the powder magazine and gunnery deck (Clarisse's favorite) with two Dahlgren smoothbore cannons on the port and starboard sides and a Brooke nine-inch rifled gun fore and aft— all specially refitted to fire celestial bronze cannonballs.

Everywhere we went, dead Confederate sailors stared at us, their ghostly bearded faces shimmering over their skulls. They cursed at Luke's Connecticut accent, which although it sounded normal to me, around a whole bunch of southerners, I could hear the difference. Then they cursed at me, because I was from New York and had a New York accent. My surname of Jackson seemed to offend them, too. Probably because of the Confederate general named Jackson, during the war. A Yank with the name most likely insulted them somehow. They all hissed and muttered curses about Yankees a lot, too. You'd think that almost two centuries would be enough to get them to let go of old grudges, but apparently not. Go figure.

Tyson was terrified of them. All through the tour, he insisted that I hold his hand. It was a bit annoying. As much as I loved my baby brother, I was not born with an endless supply of patience, and indulging him all the time was beginning to get frustrating. What if I needed to fight? I'd be stuck soothing Tyson's ghost phobia instead, and that was just not acceptable. But, I decided I'd leave it be, just for the moment. Later, I'd explain that his clinging to me for now wasn't going to work out, but I'd wait until the more important things were dealt with.

Finally, we were escorted to dinner. The CSS Birmingham captain's quarters were about the size of a medium-sized walk-in closet, but it was still a hell of a lot bigger than any other room on board. The table was set with white linen and china. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips, and Dr. Peppers were served by skeletal crewmen. I didn't want to eat anything served by ghosts, but my hunger overruled my fear.

"Tantalus expelled you for eternity," Clarisse continued. "Mr. D said if any of you show your face at camp again, he'll turn you into squirrels and run you over with his SUV. We tried to argue in your favor, but it just made it worse."

"Thanks for trying, anyway," I sighed. "Anyway, if we live, Chiron will come back. No need to worry. And if we live, but Tantalus stays, I don't want to go back. I'll take my chances out and about in the world."

Clarisse smirked, but underneath her confidence, I could see that she was as worried about Camp as I was. I decided to change the subject. Sort of, anyway.

"Did they give you this ship?" I asked.

Clarisse shook her head. "Can you imagine Tantalus being helpful? No, my father gave it to me."

"Ares?" It was hard to tell who was more surprised, me or Luke.

Clarisse nodded. "The spirits on the losing side of every war owe a tribute to Ares," she explained. "That's their curse for being defeated. I prayed to my father for a naval transport and here it is. These guys will do anything I tell them. Won't you, Captain?"

The captain stood behind her looking stiff and angry. His glowing green eyes fixed me with a hungry stare. "If it means an end to this infernal war, ma'am, peace, at last, we'll do anything. Destroy anyone."

Did they think the Civil War was still going on, or something? They needed to switch on a T.V. sometime. Get updated on the modern affairs of the world. Or maybe they should just see a T.V. and know the times have changed. Would my phone work...?