Poseidon's Guide: The First Adventure // #Wattys2018

Chapter 1 rewritten

Edward sprang to life, falling from his hammock at the sound of the morning seagulls. He hit the hard wooden deck with a thud, cussing under his breath. Edward climbed to his feet, brushing his sandy blonde hair out of his eyes and walking over to the barrel housing his meagre possessions. He grabbed his sword, Draig, threw on a white shirt. Edward stopped to feel the swaying and rowing of his accommodation. Sometimes it was easy for him to forget his life, to escape to an easier place. Edward approached the steps leading to the top deck of his captains ship, The Salvation. This was Edward's life ever since... the incident. A lowlife, scum-of-the-earth, pirate serving beneath another pirate.

"Langdon. You've decided to wake and join us... I'd began to think it was a dream about that Elizabeth girl again!" The first hand announced, startling Edward slightly. The crew close enough to hear the witty remark laughed, the others kept to their assigned tasks. The first hand was a rather rotund fellow, but was well known for handling himself in a fight. That's how the captain liked his men. "Y'know, the good ones about that English lass with the big-"

"That'll be enough Jack, if I were you I'd be keepin' a close eye on the sea ahead and not on whatever Elizabeth may have that pleases your little mind... We don't want another incident like the cost of Puerto Rico now, do we?" Edward retorted back at the man, getting his own fair share of laughs at poking fun of the first hand's previous incompetence.

Edward denied his superior a chance to fire back, simply turned his back and walked over to one of the Portside cannons and began cleaning it to look busy. Edward tied his shoulder length hair behind him and stared out into the horizon as he polished the already near spotless cannon. He pondered the usual things, what's the point of this, why do I do this and so forth, but wouldn't dare give his thoughts the pleasure of leaving his mind. He owes a debt to his captain. A life debt. Pirates may be many things, but Edward would at least tell himself he had a scrap of honour left. But the chance to leave Charles behind, well that made Edward smile.

Years ago, when Edward was only eight, a ship attacked his home town on the coast of Scotland. The pirates plundered and pillaged until the entire town was either dead, or dying. One pirate however, by the single name of Charles, found the young boy, next to the corpses of his parents with tears streaming down his face. Charles snuck Edward aboard the ship and hid him in the brig. Days past before he was discovered and taken before the captain. Edward cried for mercy as the captain held a sword to his chest, but it wasn't Edward who died. A knife made its way across the captains throat, killing him and solidifying the life debt Edward owed Charles for not only saving his life, but saving it twice.

Edward snapped back to the present, picking a lone barnacle from the cannon. He'd come a long way since that fateful night, now he sailed aboard Captain Charles' (known now as the infamous Captain Charlie) flagship. No other pirate, and even some privateers, dared not attack one of Charles' ships. He always says to the last crew member he kills "If you can't take all of us, don't try to take one of us" and he slits their throats, his preferred way of killing. Charles was a cultured man, born from Italian parents, unnamed parents, he always considered himself a man of the sea. Hence why he didn't use a last name.

"Langdon! Day dreamin' on my watch? Clean the damn cannon ya' filthy rat or you'll be sleepin' down there..." The quartermaster shouted, pointing at the sea. He was another one to be weary of, similar to the first hand he was solid and could take a beating. He had uncountable scars to prove it. Unlike the first hand, the Nigerian was a dominant ruler who thrived off the little power granted to him. Edward nodded, not saying a word. "You may be able to have a joke with the first hand, but I won't be taken for a fool..." His accent was strong and intimidating.

Surprisingly, Edward had never recalled anyone saying his name, not even himself or the Captain. He was just referred to as quartermaster by the crew and captain, even himself. Not that he cared, it was just a mysterious thing. One lesson Edward was taught by Charles, he owned the scares to prove it, was to never ask a question that didn't need an answer while serving as a member of his crew. Charles hated it. Especially when it was concerning himself. Men have died because they simply asked his parents name. Charles always says "As far as you be concerned, I was spat out the twat of a sea goddess and me father was a shark. But that be none of ya business, be it?" then they were usually thrown into the sea and Charles would watch with odd satisfaction as they drowned, were claimed by a shark or in one case, hit by the ship and killed.

"Edward, Cap'n says he needs ya' in his quarters now." The first hand announced from the wheel.

Edward nodded and rose from his station, walking across the ship and up the wooden stairs. It was a large ship, eighty or so cannons and over a hundred crew members on board at a time, many more sitting tight on some pirate island south of Italy waiting to be commanded aboard. Edward opened the door to the captains quarters and peered inside. The room was dark, the windows purposely blackened to Charles' liking. The man turned, his red coat swishing as he faced Edward.

"Jack tells me you wanted to see me captain." Edward stood straight and looked Charles in the eyes, just as he expected his crew to when addressed.

"Aie, I have a special task for you Edward, one I can only trust in you..." Charles gave a toothy grin, revealing a row of yellow and black rotted teeth. Charles produced a large bottle of rum, throwing it to Edward. "Drink up boy, time you learned how to hold ya' drink, ya' be goin' to Bortolini to do a little mission for me..."

Edward smiled at his captain, taking a large swig from the glass bottle. "Now what be my mission Charles? Making sure you get the finest Spanish dancers for your next little party?" Edward laughed, the unusually light hearted Charles laughing also.

"Aie, that would be nice, but I have something more important for you..." Charles took the rum and took his own swig of the bottle. "I've heard tale of a lovely young lady... Red haired I believe, the word is she knows a few interestin' things about that ghost ship, Poseidon's Guide or whatever it be named..." Charles mentioned. "Lass reckons she be the daughter of Callico Jack Rackam too..."

Edward chuckled. "Poseidon's Guide is a sailors tale!" Edward reassured his certainly drunk, yet serious captain. "Told to make the British and pirates fear the Atlantic... Does this Rackam woman claim to know of Atlantis and Krakens?" Edward took the rum for himself.

"It matters not what she claims to know, whether she be Davy Jones' personal whore or rather, she does however seem to know a fair few things about this ship... A fair few things I wouldn't mind knowin' too, hear me boy?" Charles' tone turned serious, his Italian accent enriching every word with more depth. "I seen my fair share of things, now I don't claim to have kissed a mermaid or heard the sirens song, but this ship is more legitimate then them, got it? Even so it makes a good tale if not true."

"Aie cap'n, I'll have a word with this woman next we dock." Edward conceded, sighing under his breath.

As the sun grew tired of its daily duties and began to sink into the ocean, the moon raising in its place, Edward sat by the ships mast, recalling the tales of the sea. The peaceful oceans waves hit the ships hull as always, their sounds soothing even the most restless sailors.

"Hmph, Poseidon's Guide..." Edward snickered to himself. 'Twas just a sailors tale. Edward recalled the story behind the ship, supposedly the ship of a Greek man who led Poseidon and Neptune to war against Tlaloc. It was a preposterous tale of three gods from different histories going against each other. "Absolute, complete horse shit!" Edward continued mumbling to himself, almost laughing at the thought of the might Captain Charles of the feared Salvation believing in such a tale. Edward believed himself more of a history nut than Charles.

"What be the Cap'n's orders in Bortolini? Did we not stop there but a few weeks ago?" A pirate, his name unknown to Edward, inquired with another unimportant pirate. Edward wondered why some of these boys were paid to be aboard this ship when they couldn't fight, some had never held a gun before.

"Apparently there's some kind of treasure!" The other nameless pirate replied.

"If there were treasure in Bortolini Bay, it would've been found by now! Islands full of pirates!"

"Perhaps the Cap'n has a woman there...?"

"Aie, that be reasonable!"

Fools, idiots, imbeciles, Edward could think of a thousand words to title these men. He rose from the hard wooden deck and let his gaze fall upon the distant horizon, a small island just in view. That small island was one of the most jolly, yet dangerous islands in the world. Bortolini Bay, the island where pirates go to trade treasures and drink. Edward rarely got the permission to leave the ship at dock in Bortolini, Charles hated the place and felt his crew were too good for such a place. That's why Edward's task was such a mystery, Charles openly wanted him in Bortolini.

The cold night air filled Edward's lungs and he took a deep breath. The smell of the sea, the smell he grew up with. Edward loved it. Edward closed his eyes, trying to remember the warm embrace of his mother or his father's contagious laughter, but he could only grasp vague memories of his old life... The simpler life...