Falling For The First Mate

Chapter 8

Perched precariously on the curved edge of a barrel of rum, Drago narrowed his eyes at the audience collected before him in the crews' quarters. It was a dark place, dimly lit and musty from the absence of sunlight this far below deck. It was damp from the ocean spray that seeped through the ceilings, encouraging the appearance of barnacles and limpets far beyond the ability to count.

But at least the rats stayed away.

Drago cleared his throat, dry and hoarse from a long night of bellowing orders, and focused his gaze upon the girl who was about to learn the secrets of the ship. He was certain that First Mate Skyler would not have enlightened her yet, for he still clung defiantly to the hope that their journey would lead them to freedom.

So, he knew as the room fell silent, the burdensome task would now fall to him. However, as he was not a man of many words, he had enlisted the aid of a few reluctant crew members besides himself.

“Grimme, begin.” he commanded, gesturing over to the scrawny mutterer who called himself a storyteller.

“Aye, that I will.” Grimme replied.

The rest of the crew shifted uncomfortably on their feet and a few cowards scurried up above deck. An irritating cabin boy clicked a toothpick between his teeth. But Evanora’s eyes were reserved for Grimme and that was all that mattered.

“Now tell me, girly.” Grimme addressed Evanora. “What do you know about spirals?”

Evanora was taken aback. “Spirals?” she asked. “The swirly patterns?”

“Aye, spirals.”

“I don't know how to answer that. I- I guess I only thought they were for decoration.” she flailed.

Drago sighed. This was going to take longer than he had thought.

“Well, you be wrong!” huffed a pirate who was gulping rum in the corner.

“Get on with it Grimme.” Drago ordered, pointing his gun at the interrupter and cocking the trigger.

Grimme cleared his throat.

“Spirals: the very symbols of blessings or curses upon the seven seas. When a ship is engraved with spirals, it's either protected, prosperous or damned. Our figurehead’s a skeleton holding a spiral chain; I think you'll guess which fate falls upon the Maelstrom.”

The slight bobbing of Evanora’s throat as she gulped gave her fear away. She opened her mouth to either gasp or speak, but Grimme continued before she could.

“This ship be claimed by a violent curse, one bestowed upon the vilest of murderers, the most bloodthirsty pillagers of the ocean.”

“And rightly so! You’re pirates.” Evanora couldn’t help herself. Years of Terrian's degradation of these people forced the words from her lips.

Drago shot her a glare, narrowing his charcoal eyes.

“Cap’n Silvestre was one of the Unfortunates, three conflictin' first mates eager to prove themselves by spilling the most blood. The Captain whose approval they sought held power far beyond their knowledge. He had once wanted to pass on this power to the most worthy, but he saw that all three were corrupted by the evil dark force of greed. They’d destroy themselves fightin' for it. You followin' so far?”

Grimme’s creepy smile bared his rotting rows of grimy teeth. Evanora nodded, far too engrossed in the horror story she had been dragged into to notice.

“Instead of passing on the power, he passed on an unrelentin' curse. As they watched, three ghostly ships appeared on the horizon. They doubled over in pain, clutchin' at their chests as if pierced by a thousand needles. When they tore their shirts, each revealed a tattoo of a compass, permanently etched into the skin directly above their hearts.”