The Sailor and the Spectre

Day One

Nikolai yanked back the accelerator and allowed his vessel to gently glide into port— unknowingly doomed to live a nightmare. The twin suns set low on the horizon; mere wisps of clouds caught the stars' fading light, swirling the sky into a magnificent palate of blooming crimson, gold, and azure. The dimming sun glanced off sapphire waves, its reflections dancing a mad waltz up the side of gigantic fishing crafts.

Marigold's harbor was strangely crowded for this late in the season; it seemed that fishermen had hauled in a big catch earlier in the day. Sailors and laborers hustled and bustled about the waterfront, their laughter and curses mingling into the already deafening cacophony that surrounded the spot. Men in suits— the "watchdogs" for investors and brokers— silently watched the scene from wide terraces which provided a front row seat to the city's waterfront.

'Sure picked a bad time to visit.' Nikolai finally spoke, his voice sounding strangely hoarse to his ears. He cast an awkward glance toward his wizened passenger. A spark of anger flashed through him, desperate to reignite their previous squabble.

'The crowds do not bother me." The passenger replied— an old man adjusting his grey suit with one hand while positioning a narrow-billed fedora on his head with the other.

"Whatever you say mister... just wait till you get a lung full of that breeze.' Here he took an exaggerated breath, 'Ah, you gotta' love the smell of fish guts.'

'Marigold suits my interests as well as any resort might.' The old man paused for a moment, nose wrinkling at the penetrating stench. He sighed audibly, glancing toward the wooden decking arranged along the chiseled-rock surface of the harbor-mouth, 'If you will be so kind as to drop me off here.' He said, gesturing to a general area of the dock.

'Wonderful!' Nikolai said, his attempt at covering his annoyance failing in record time.

Placing one hand on the wheel, he rested a calloused hand on the bowl of his briar pipe— he lived for the sea and no man could pluck him from it. The craft glided forward, cutting through the translucent waters and momentum carrying him true.

The passenger reached for his suitcase and stood expectantly at the side of the vessel, the craft coming to a gradual stop along the jetty. Nikolai brushed back his shaggy, grey speckled hair with his fingers and set his pipe down, slowly approaching the traveler.

'Oh well, I suppose you want your money now, don't you?' The old man spoke in a kindly manner, 'Well here it is... in full.' No indication of the previous day's anger betrayed itself in his manner as he handed a rather large, manila envelope to the expectant sea captain. The image of a purple tulip was stamped awkwardly on the creased paper flap, and the outline of crisp paper notes showed through the seams.

The sailor's eyes glistened as he ripped open the crudely-sealed package and poured out a palm-full of dully-colored bills into his hand. His passenger, showing no signs of annoyance at this impolite gesture, tipped his hat and bid him a good day, finally depositing himself on dry land once again. As soon as he planted his feet on the dock, he spun around abruptly, looking Nikolai up and down suspiciously.

'About yesterday,' he began, a good natured smile turning the corners of his mouth, 'no hard feelings I hope... I believe you have been repaid for any offence I may have caused you... and you to me.' This last part he said in barely more than a whisper, the sound barely audible over the din of the port. He cleared his throat gratingly, ducking past a pair of fishermen and disappearing into the crowd.

Nikolai, preoccupied, barely registered the statement. He nodded amiably at the man, then counted the money. He was paid alright, but at nearly double his usual fee. One hundred, two hundred... four hundred, he thought, smiling greedily.

A night on the town was in order. He would wait until nightfall to make his return journey, but for now, pleasures awaited him.