The Damned: Part 1~ Innocence

Chapter 11

CARIBBEAN SEA JANUARY 1686

Flying Dutchman plodded along under the sweltering heat of the Caribbean sun.

For this time of year, it was unbearably hot and while she could've easily ordered a dive, she wasn't eager to play submarine.

She wasn't that desperate, yet.

On the horizon appeared a set of sails.

Flying Dutchman, on instinct, opened her jaws to taste the air.

The scent of death was palpable but it wasn't nearly as present as it was when she had found Misty Lady.

Curious about this new find, Flying Dutchman drew closer.

The ship, a three masted frigate, sat dead in the water, anchors lowered. Her head was down as she listened to her captain and first mate argue on deck.

She looked up when she saw Flying Dutchman though.

"No please, I'm not ready!" She begged.

Flying Dutchman paused. "I'm not going to take you anywhere. But the scent of death is apparent on you. I am merely curious as to why." She said.

"Stay back!" The ship snarled.

Flying Dutchman paused, surprised at the sudden ferocity of the other ship.

The anger was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by weariness. Bone weariness.

This ship had no strength left to fight.

Flying Dutchman didn't need her special senses to know this ship was nearing the end of her hawser.

The ship looked at her and Flying Dutchman wasn't sure what shocked her the most. The genuine fear there in her eyes, or the desperate tone of her voice.

"Please..." She begged.

Drawing closer, Flying Dutchman could see a bright red rash all along the sides of her hull.

In some places, it produced series of black boils, creating an ugly and obviously itchy and painful pattern.

It didn't take much for Flying Dutchman to figure out what it was.

"The plague, it got you?" She whispered.

The ship nodded fearfully. "Go as far away from this place as you can. Keep well away from the shores and the main trade routes." She growled.

"What about you?" Flying Dutchman asked.

She sighed. "My time will soon come and when it does I will gladly join the Ancients." She replied.

Flying Dutchman nuzzled her. "Then I wish you well, young ship." She whispered.

"Thunder, HMS Thunder." She said.

"Fare thee well, Thunder." Flying Dutchman whispered.

"Thank you Dutchman." Thunder replied.

Flying Dutchman dipped her head and sailed off, unaware that in the short time she spent near her, she'd been exposed to the plague.

With no immunity, it was only a matter of time before she fell ill.

The next few days seemed to get hotter and hotter.

Flying Dutchman could only take so much.

By the third day, around noon, she had had it!

"Ugh, that is it!" She roared and dove beneath the surface.

The water cooler but the warmth remained so she dove deeper.

At nearly 1500 feet one would think there'd be no trace of warmth, but Flying Dutchman still felt one.

"I'm not feeling anything, Dutchman." Vandecker told her. "I don't know what you're feeling but there isn't any water that's colder than this."

Flying Dutchman sighed, unsure whether to believe her captain or not.

Since she couldn't dive any deeper, she leveled out and set sail into the darkness.

The protective lids over her eyes shielded them from the effects of the saltwater and by switching to infrared vision, she had no trouble seeing.

Under ordinary circumstances anyway.

For some reason, despite her best efforts, Flying Dutchman's vision was blurred and the warmth she felt became unbearably hot.

"Ugh!" She moaned.

"Flying Dutchman, what's wrong?" Vandecker asked.

"I don't know, I can't seem to focus..." Flying Dutchman's speech became slurred.

"That's it, I'm surfacing." Vandecker growled and gave the order.

Flying Dutchman rose up to the surface though it did little to relieve her dizziness.

"Dutchman, talk to me." Vandecker begged.

"I don't know what's wrong." Flying Dutchman replied before breaking into a severe coughing fit.

"Easy, easy now." Vandecker murmured, stroking her side. "It's almost sundown. Come on, we'll go back to the Locker and hope Britannia's there to help."

Flying Dutchman nodded her agreement, using the last of her energy to summon the green blast.

Britannia was a bit surprised to see Flying Dutchman.

"You're back early." She said, then stopped when she noticed the state of her apprentice.

"What happened?" She demanded, racing over and fussing over her.

"I don't know. I'm having a hard time focusing on anything at the moment. My head feels like a thousand needles are poking into it." Flying Dutchman groaned.

"You haven't been drinking again, have you?" Britannia asked.

"No." Flying Dutchman replied.

Britannia felt her.

"Hm, well you're a bit warm." She said. "Come inside, I'll see what I can do."

Flying Dutchman nodded, leaning heavily on her mentor as Britannia led the way.

Once inside, Britannia rummaged through a few things before she found what she was looking for.

"Now hold still!" She ordered, holding some kind of rudimentary thermometer.

Flying Dutchman nodded.

Britannia stuck it under her tongue and while it was reading the fluyt's temperature, she went about checking Flying Dutchman all over.

"Anything unusual. Dizzy spells, fever?" Britannia asked.

"Nothing until just now." Flying Dutchman replied.

"Hmm..." Britannia's eyes narrowed, then widened as they fell on a patch of Flying Dutchman's hull.

The gold had turned an angry red as a sort of rash spread its way up and down her hull.

"How long have you had this?" Britannia whispered.

"Had what?" Flying Dutchman asked, turning her head to look.

Britannia nudged her fiercely. "No, don't look. Don't touch!" She growled.

Flying Dutchman was overwhelmed by a strange sense of fear, fear that wasn't hers.

"Britannia, what is it? What has you so scared?" Flying Dutchman asked though by the quaver in her voice it was clear she already knew.

"Dutchman, you have the plague." Britannia whispered.