Six: Welcome to the Caribbean

Chapter 6

That's odd. Why is the ground rocking back and forth?

These were the first thoughts that ran through Arthur's mind when he regained consciousness. It's an odd thing, to be sure, going from complete dark and chill to heat and semi-darkness, and why was the ground moving? Arthur assessed himself. The pain in his side was gone. That was nice. He was on his back lying on a hard surface (which was moving, as said already), and it was oppressively hot--hotter than Arthur had ever known it to be. Slowly, Arthur flexed his wrists and fingers, hearing the joints crack slightly at his demand of movement. Finally, feeling properly awake, he pried open one eye to catch a glimpse of his surroundings.

Wood. That was a lot of wood. All he could see was wood--no wait, there were metal bars. His heart sank. How charming. It was day; Arthur could see scraps of sun peeking through cracks in the wooden walls. There didn't appear to be anyone around, so Arthur opened both eyes fully. It didn't really help, given that there was just wood to be seen on the ceiling above him, so he trained his ears. He could hear men shouting above him, he heard their boots thundering on the wooden planks as they ran from place to place. There was a distant roar to the whole scene and it smelled . . . salty? Why did it smell salty? But, as before, he could detect no one in his immediate presence.

Arthur sat up and was instantly aware of his lack of chain mail. He looked down at himself, and indeed, the mail and armor he had been wearing when he last was aware were gone and he was left with nothing but the clothes he wore beneath them. And for goodness sakes, the ground was actually moving! Arthur looked around now that he had a greater range of vision and saw that he was in a cell of metal bars with a wood floor and wood ceiling and one wooden wall behind him. Cautiously, Arthur bent in his legs and got to his feet. He immediately regretted doing so, as the motion of the world put him off balance. He thrust his arm out and steadied himself on the metal bars to his left.

"What is this place?" Arthur wondered aloud to himself. His head turned sharply at the sound of approaching footsteps and voices.

Two men entered the floor. "Floor" was the only descriptor Arthur could give it. One seemed to be a guard, if judging by his generic red and cream-colored uniform and weapon proved accurate. Whatever kind of weapon that thing was. The other was clearly of higher rank, even Arthur could tell. Something about the way he walked like he had a spear shaft jammed down his spine and looked like he was constantly smelling something unpleasant. He also had a finer uniform with a dark blue coat and gold embroidery.

"Well, look who's up," the higher-ranking man said. His voice was nasal and not easy to listen to in Arthur's opinion. Both men also had powder-white hair that was neatly styled under black three-cornered hats.

"Where am I?" Arthur asked.

"You, my dear fellow, are aboard His Majesty's Ship the Steadfast. I am Admiral Miles Thornwell, captain of this vessel." Arthur stared. He gathered he was on ship. But 'His Majesty's Ship'? "Who are you, sir?" Thornwell asked.

Arthur couldn't find words to speak immediately. He was horribly confused, because last he'd checked, he had been king, but he was sure now that this was not Camelot. He cleared his throat. "My name is Arthur Pen--" He stopped, not certain if giving his full name was wise.

"Arthur Penn?" Thornwell repeated. "Well, perhaps you'd like to explain why--and how--you appeared on the deck of this ship, in this . . . dress?" He gestured to a pile comprising Arthur's armor. "It was rather sudden too, all a flash of light then there you were, Mister Penn. I should hope today's science has finally found a mode of transportation in such a manner, otherwise I would suspect you of more . . . pagan practices, and that is a sure way of confronting pirates and other fugitives from the law. I would hate for you to be associated with pirates, Mr. Penn."