Rising Tides | 2doc | Gorillaz siren!AU

1: Shipwrecked

"Hoist the sails!" Called out the captain, with a harsh growl and aggressive swig of rum. Hannibal, who was the regular captain, was out cold in the sleeping bunkers and had the second in charge take their shift on steering for the night 'till morning comes.
"We need to get a move on and we 'aven't got bloody time to lose."
Quickly, we did as we were told, collectively pulling the thick ropes. I had burns and callouses permanently marked on my hands from rope tugging for as long as I can remember, and I had yet another to add to the gallery of bruises.
The wind picked up, carrying us into the starry night in an endless sheet of salt water. There was nothing to see besides the reflection of our lanterns in the black void of water, and the warn down wooden deck of the old ship itself. The gal has gone through quite a lot, and you can tell. Every chip had a story to tell, and we've been sailing her for a lifetime. She's suffered the wear of rough and grody men making her their only living place, and it was quite clear in her moaning floorboards and warn exterior that expressed an eerie disposition. She was beaten down from countless attacks, yet as strong as she is, she held up powerfully.
Though she was not nearly how she used to be, glittering in the heyday of swashbuckling, she was still a thing of magnificent beauty and her figurehead of a regal lass still confidently lead our ship's aching body. But tonight she was blinded away from us, hidden in the shadow of evening.

This night was particularly dark. The moon was only at it's first phase as a new moon, and we couldn't see shit's stink past an inch of our noses, with only the dim glow of the ship's lights and our small lanterns to guide us. This was especially dangerous when we needed to navigate the sea's geography, and made wrecks and crashes an easy thing.
Unfortunately for us, the waters we were sailing for the night were littered with obstacles in the form of a towering rock bay. We were usually pretty good at manoeuvering our way through the troublesome obstructions (admittedly thanks to Hannibal, if there was anything I'd admit to him being decent at, it would be directing us safely through waters), so it wasn't much of a worry, especially since the second in charge was just as savvy of direction, but there was always the small fear that anything wrong could happen. And it did.

The genius didn't see where he was going. Couldn't see where he was going. Between the dim passage of light that left us practically sailing in circles and his lack of sense due to the day's heavy drinking (which was usual, but he commonly could buckle down and get to business when he needed to) it would be only a matter of time until disaster struck. The passage itself between the rocks were narrow, and required great precision to be able to get through. We were doing good so far, mind you, so there was no reason to break a sweat over it. We've been through plenty worse unscathed, what's this to topple us down? But there was something new about this place. Something eerie.
I was rubbed the wrong way and wanted to take another route, of course no one would even consider such a thing and would laugh it off. Why would I bother?
Perhaps it was just sleep deprivation getting to me. Or stir craziness making me paranoid of the hazardous surroundings. But either way, something wasn't right. I heard something, and it was becoming apparent I wasn't the only one. It wasn't the usual whistling gust of wind. No, this was somehow melodic and haunting. It was just distant enough for us to hear it, and had us begging for more. As sailors we were always warned to be wary of these enchanting songs, but the sensual tune captivated us. Made us wanting more. Wanting our biggest desires. But it was all a trap set by the Sirens that inhabited the murky waters. Hearing their melody spelled certain death unless a man was strong enough to resist the urge, and few were strong enough to bid away the call of desire.
This alluring humming only seemed to get closer, but neve close enough. Always just distant, never close enough to grab.

It appeared as if the ship was heading towards the sound, rather than away like it should have been. The song must have tranced the captain, and even the cries of worried men couldn't snap him out of it. We all tried, to no success, only managing to fight over control of the steer.
A sickening crunch could be heard, as the entire ship violently halted. I couldn't bear to look, and the curses of the crew was enough to clue me in. The ship had crashed into a nearby rock, and we were sinking fast. What are once pridefully stood tall was now wounded and slouched where it had been struck. The wooden build whimpered as it caved and gave one last sigh, allowing water to flood it's damaged body. Alas, not even the strong will of our ship could survive this one.
Hannibal, who even he couldn't sleep through such a disaster, had exploded out of his sleeping quarters, loudly cursing to us all.
"Who the hell is responsible for this? My bloody ship is destroyed. Do you want us all to die?"
Of course, fingers were pointed to none other than me, the villainous and hated.
It was because of this blame shifting (which of course wasn't my problem but rather Hannibal for being absent during this dilemma and his secondhand man for being incompetent, but kept his slate clean by pinning his sloppy work onto me like usual) That I could very possibly lose my my life. Nearly lost my life on a few occasions, actually. But this time would be the tipping point.