Ships Collide

Freedom

Michael stood at the end of a pier of their neighboring island and waved goodbye to Paul. To his surprise, his old friend had shed a few tears and Michael recalled all the fun they'd had as children. Responsibilities had forced them apart; Michael wasn't the only one with a family to care for.

He took a breath and faced the town. It was larger; much larger than his island and the enormity of his situation threatened to drown his spirit. Michael closed his eyes for a moment. One step at a time.

He adjusted his shoulder pack and started toward the nearest pub. Annie had packed him so many deserts he worried he wouldn't be able to eat them all in time. She'd also paid him, which added to his limited funds and would, at the very least, get him a few more meals.

Annie had spent some time in her younger days traveling the coasts. She claimed each island had its own host of cultural aspects, but she'd liked her current island the best; at least until it'd become deserted.

Michael marched down the dirt road until he found an old wooden sign swinging in the breeze. At one time it might have had a name engraved on the surface, but wind and seawater had worn the lettering to an illegible print. It was only the drunkard outside that told him this was exactly where he wanted to be.

Michael examined the man and anxiety crawled into the pit of his stomach. He wasn't even sure if the woman from the pictures would frequent a place like this. The captain seemed certain she might, but her elegant dress would have cost a fortune; unless she'd stolen it.

Michael ruffled his hair and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from screaming in frustration. How the hell was he supposed to find someone when he wasn't even sure what kind of person she was? Could the captain had made the task any more difficult? Probably.

Unsure of what to expect in the early morning hours, Michael opened the door and stepped into the dim lighting. The air reeked of alcohol and vomit, but the occupants inside were either asleep or quietly eating breakfast. He'd half expected to see bodies piled on the floor with last nights' beverages leaking across the wooden boards.

A woman stood at the bar wiping a dish. She didn't greet him so Michael simply took a seat at the counter, making a point to be away from the other patrons.

"What can I get you love?" The woman leaned a bit too far over the counter and Michael's face flushed as he struggled to keep his gaze at eye level.

"Just water for now."

"No breakfast? Larry cooks a mean gravy."

Despite wanting to save money, Michael thought it might be rude to ask questions without giving them business. "I'll take an order of that then."

"Coming right up." She waltzed away and poked her head through the kitchen doors. Thereafter she went back to scrubbing tables. Michael watched her for a beat then went to staring at the bottles of liquor that lined the shelves. His parents had never been ones for drinking and he'd simply followed their lead in the matter. Not that they could have afforded it anyway.

"Here you go doll." The woman set a rather large plate before him. Brown gravy with cuts of sausage dripped from a steaming biscuit and his mouth watered in response.

"I have a question." He tried to ignore the food.

She furrowed her brow. "It's a bit early for offers."

His face flushed. "No, no, I—"

The woman laughed and waved one hand. "I'm only kidding love, what can I help you with?"

"Well, to make a long story short, I'm searching for someone called the Princess of the Seas."

She was quiet, studying him and then burst out laughing. "Aren't all men?"