Billy of the Sea (standard:adventure, 3554 words)
Author: FlutterWrites	Added: Mar 10 2013	Views/Reads: 3553/9800	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Billy , a quartermaster aboard a pirate ship has an unpleasant foreboding after a vicious storm.

Billy of the Sea 

Dark, thunderous clouds had finally abated, allowing us to take stock of
the damage. The crewmen scurried about, attending to the various blows 
the ship sustained from the vicious maelstrom. No one had time to say 
it, but we all thought it. How are we alive? 

We had believed ourselves dead men.  Even the veteran pirates aboard,
once unshakable, had made their peace. A sobering thought had echoed 
through our minds. It mattered not how seasoned or hardened one was in 
the art of sailing. Good sailors constantly reminded themselves that 
the sea had no master. Lest she remind you with her violent black waves 
thrashing against the hull of your puny vessel , her howling winds 
shredding through weak , mortal skin, the grip of the sea pushing you 
further and further into the abyss . “You are at my mercy”, she 
screams, “You are my slave, I obey no one!” 

Our captain, bore an impassive face despite the harrowing ordeal. I knew
though, that deep down he was just as perturbed as we were. However, 
the lives of his men depended on him; he couldn't afford to lose his 
wits now. 

He began taking a head count of the remaining able bodied men, ordering
the surgeon to attend to the wounded. As the Quartermaster, I inspected 
the sails, riggings and the keel of our vessel, The Gold Dagger. 
Thankfully the mast was intact, so were most of the riggings. The 
lifeboats however were completely destroyed. Worse yet, the canvas of 
our sails had been ripped straight through. Immediately I commanded the 
men to repair them. 

The sea had become absolutely still .The night skies reflection was so
clear, it seemed our ship was floating among the stars, among duplicate 
moons. The tranquility was surpassing. One felt at ease with the 
elements, a total clash with the terror felt not moments ago. , for 
some strange reason, I couldn't relax. However, to not scare the crew, 
I kept those feelings to myself. 

Relief spread among the entire crew on being told that all men survived.
Any injuries sustained were minor, as were the injuries to the ship. 
With the exception of the sails, all of which were ripped to shreds. As 
we could not steer, we were incapacitated. It would take several hours 
to repair them. But, the weather was so calm, that it did not pose a 
great danger. 

In celebration, the men began singing lively shanties at the top of
their lungs. They sung of a valiant pirate king who ruled over a 
thousand ships. No one could master him, neither merchants nor armadas. 
 He plundered obscene amounts of Spanish gold, hoarding every last 
doubloon on the farthest reaches of the sea.  Urban lore held that it 
was buried to this day on an unknown island. Untold riches, just 
waiting to be claimed. 

A few of my men believed the tale to be true. Greedy men relish the idea
of mythic gold. But, I knew better. Wayfaring seamen were always prone 
to exaggeration. Common stories were embellished to the point of 
bearing no relation to original premise. The legend of the Pirate King 
and his hidden treasure was a legend. Nothing more. 

Of course, I was thankful that sea shanties always roused the ship
morale.  Being mutinied upon was a common occurrence among our lot, 
captains and quartermasters better be wary if they wished to survive. 

There were important things I wished to discuss with the captain.
Finally, it seemed that I would have the chance. Approaching his 
quarters, the cabin boy was busy sweeping up broken glass. The 
intricate stained glass mural of Spanish roses on the cabin doors had 
been entirely shattered. Such a pity, I always appreciated that small 
touch of color. Art was difficult to find on the open sea, and 
exceedingly more so among my rowdy pirate men. 

The cabin boy, Wendell was his name, lifted his head to give me a timid
smile. We always had a silent understanding among the two of us. When 
he first came to us, the crew wanted to throw him overboard. The last 
thing we needed was another prisoner mouth to feed was the general 
consensus. Him being a young scrawny boy; the odds were already against 


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