Merrick stood on the quarter deck. The wind tossed his long matted hair. His ship hurtled through the waves, cutting a path sharp and quick through the dark waters of the evening sea. They were a few miles off the coast of the Atacambi Desert, and heading for shallow seas. Behind him, an ominous wind blew strange feelings of dread. They had to run, and they had to run fast.


    Captain Merrick Draven pushed his crew as hard as he could. They worked as if on the edge of a great squall that was threatening to sink their beloved ship. They worked like demons hellbent on achieving their goal. All of their lives depended on it. The darkness of the night crept over the horizon. A lone silhouette stood out against the purple of the evening sky. A large ship of three masts, with torn and tattered sails, trailed the "Tiderunner". Merrick felt the cold dread of the inevitable creeping up his neck. He shivered as he gripped the wheel as hard as he could.


    The "Forgotten Mariner" was a ship straight from legend. It pursued the Tiderunner with reckless abandon. It sailed in ways which no mortal ship could, cutting across the wind in a direct line without jibbing or jiving. Merrick commanded more sail. He wanted as much speed as he could get. Running from a mythical ghost ship demanded speed. His ship was fast. Notoriously so. He had used that speed to plunder the ancient island that housed the treasure of Davy Jones. Now the cursed Captain pursued, looking to get the treasure back. Merrick''s crew knew nothing about this particular part of the voyage, or his intentions. He did not want them balking at the thought of stealing a potentially cursed treasure or losing their nerve.


    "Heave to and make full sail, you scallywags! We''ve got a hunter on our tails! By the powers he''s gaining on us!" Merrick shouted angrily. He needed the crew to edge out more wind. The Forgotten Mariner was picking up speed, and Merrick was running out of sail. He turned the wheel over to the helmsman so he could better command his crew.


    "You there, trim those sails! I want them so tight they sing! We''re not losing to those bilge-sucking bastards!" Merrick commanded a sailor that was moving too slowly.


    "Haul on those lines! Let her catch every gust, or by The Powers, I''ll have you keelhauled for sluggin''!" roared Roger Allerday, the First Mate.


    The sailors moved with frantic panic as the ghostly ship gained ground. They all knew what was at stake. A hanging by the Royal Azonian Navy. Merrick knew the real stakes though. Death would be a welcome option, if it were such, but with Davy Jones, the fates were always worse.


    Merrick raised his spyglass and peered at the haunted vessel behind them. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.


    "Damn their eyes, they’re gaining on us! Steer her steady, and keep the wind in our favor. Helmsman, jibe the boom and let''s try to catch those stronger gusts!"


    "Jibing now, Captain!" the helmsman replied. The ship made a quarter turn to the south, bringing the heading to south by southwest, and enabling the sails to catch those bigger gusts. This increased the ship''s speed slightly, but it wasn''t enough.


    "All hands, stay alert! This ain’t over ''til we lose ''em or feed ''em to the deep!" Roger shouted. He seemed confident, which inspired the men to work like fiends. Merrick did not share the confidence internally though.


    "Ready the cannons on the starboard side, just in case. If they get within range, give ''em a broadside that’ll make their ancestors dizzy!" Merrick shouted to the gunners. They hopped to and began preparing the charges. A light rain began to fall.


    By now, the Forgotten Mariner had come into all the crew''s view without need for spyglass. The tension on the ship grew to a fevered pitch. The black, ratty sails, and the rime of bone and scum on the decaying wood of the Mariner struck fear into the hearts of Merrick''s pirates. Crusted barnacles, oyster shells, and clams clung to the decks under a carpet of seaweed and fish bones. The Forgotten Mariner looked as if it had been drudged up directly from the seafloor.


    The First Mate looked like a ghost himself. He gave the Captain a horrified look. Realization set in.


    "By the dark depths, it''s the accursed Davy Jones himself! All hands, this is no ordinary chase! We''re up against the devil of the sea himself!" He screamed. For a moment, Merrick looked defeated, but he picked himself up quickly, as not to show weakness in front of the men.


    "The legends were true, then! Look how she cuts through the water like a knife through butter! What are your orders, Captain?" A sailor looked fearfully at Merrick. Merrick shook his head and blinked. Things were under his control, he knew what he was doing, he reminded himself.


    "We''ve no choice but to outmaneuver this phantom! Helmsman, steer us through the shallows, maybe we can shake him where the waters run thin!" Merrick commanded, faking some mockery of bravery. He knew however, that this was not going to succeed, and that was according to his plan.


    "Aye, Captain, setting course to shallower waters!" The helmsman replied. He turned the wheel sharply and the ship lurched to the port side and toward the deserted desert shoreline in the distance. Some of the pirates on deck stumbled at the sharp, unexpected turn.


    "She''s gaining fast, Captain! And there’s something unnatural about that wind!" cried a pirate busy coiling excess rope.


    "Damnation! Load the cannons with chain shot. Aim for their rigging. If we can’t outrun ''em, we''ll cripple ''em!" shouted Merrick, and the gunners started loading chain shot in the cannons.


    The Forgotten Mariner was soon upon the Tiderunner, and the gunners aimed their cannons at the already crippled looking rigging of the phantom ship.


    "Ready to fire on your command, sir!" one of the gunners shouted.


    "Wait for my signal... Fire! Tear those ghostly sails to even more shreds!" commanded Merrick. The cannons roared with the thunder of the deep, as the chain shot flung through the air and made contact with the ghost ship''s rigging. This did not have the intended effect.


    "Captain, she’s bearing down on us like death itself!" screamed one of the gunners, midway through loading another volley.


    "Our cannons won’t be enough. Keep firing, and keep us moving! Every knot counts!" Merrick was soaked with a combination of seaspray, rain, and sweat. His legs were shaky, and he felt like this was the end. "Listen well, you hearties! This may be the most cursed night of our lives, but if we''re to meet our maker, let it be with a fight that will echo through eternity! All hands, brace for boarding. If those spectral fiends want our souls, we’ll not make it easy for them!" Merrick unsheathed his cutlass. Roger looked exhaustedly at him but unsheathed his cutlass as well. Merrick saw the glint of anger in his First Mate''s eyes.


    The Forgotten Mariner crashed into the side of the Tiderunner. Splinters of the deck flew into the air and sprayed the pirates onboard. A few of the gunners went flying through the air, and landed hard on their backs. Iron hooks soon grabbed the gunwales of the Tiderunner, and the two ships became locked in an embrace of death. As the weight of the Mariner slowed the Tiderunner down, everything went quiet.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The Tiderunner came to a standstill, as the wind died out. Merrick stood with the rest of the crew, braced for the inevitable boarding party. Nothing could be seen on the deck of the other ship. Merrick didn''t understand what happened to the wind.


    A thick fog set over the sea. The rain stopped. The swell calmed, and the ocean turned into a glass mirror. It was an inky black void everywhere, except for the deck of the Tiderunner. Time seemed to slow, and these few moments seemed like hours to Merrick.


    The air grew colder, as the sound of crashing waves echoed far off in the distance. A hoard of barnacle encrusted skeletons emerged from the darkness, climbing across the gunwale of the Tiderunner. Merrick froze in stark terror at the sight. The skeletal sailors lined up along the edge of the Tiderunner''s deck.


    The thundering echo of waves in the distance stopped, and Davy Jones himself materialized before Merrick. The Cursed Captain stood a whole head taller than Merrick. Each bone in his body was crusted over with salt rime, barnacles, clams, and oysters. Slimy sea life was crawling all over his skeletal frame, accrued from countless decades submerged beneath the ocean''s dark depths. Sinister green seaweed was draped over his shoulders, like a grotesque mantle. It fluttered in an unnatural, chilly breeze that seemed to accompany him like a loyal crew. Merrick felt the marrow in his bones freeze over.


    Davy Jones was dressed in tattered, threadbear captain''s garb. It was soaked with the brine of a thousand storms, and as dark as the deepest ocean trench. The remains of ornate embroidery, signifying the West Azonian Trade Company, faded on his jacket and arm cuffs. His hat, once a proud tricorne, sat askew on his skull, the edges frayed and salt-stained. His eye sockets flickered with a ghostly light, as blue and cold as the deep sea itself. A heavy, rusted cutlass, covered in coral, hung at his hip, sharp as ever. His very presence brought the essence of the deep sea with him.


    "Captain Merrick Draven... Ye have something that belongs to the depths. Hand it over or forfeit your souls to the Mariner.." Davy Jones''s voice slithered out of his skeletal mouth like an eel wriggling from a hole in the mud. The smell of low tide hung heavy in the air.


    Merrick gave an apprehensive smirk, and a light, dry chuckle. He was terrified.


    "Ah... You''re taller than the tales tell. But let''s be reasonable now, shall we, Mr. Jones? I''m but a humble pirate. Surely there is a way to settle this without the threat of eternal damnation?" Merrick spoke quickly, slurring his words.


    "Ye think this be a matter for negotiation? You give me the relic, or I take you, and your crews'' souls. I will bind them to the Mariner, and forever, you will serve me." Jones replied.


    Merrick gave another quick smirk.


    "Well, that sounds outright boring, if you ask me... I''ve never been a man for routine. Besides, isn’t there something else, something a bit more... potent you’ve been seeking? Something only a daring pirate could fetch?"


    "What knowledge do ye hold, Draven?" replied Jones. The immortal sailor''s interest had been piqued.


    "Well, considering my current... precarious situation, let’s say I’ve heard whispers of a certain... Light of the Sea? Supposedly controls the very winds and waves. Now, such a trinket might be worth more to a cursed sailor than this shiny bauble, no?" Merrick dangled a black orb on an obsidian chain tauntingly in front of Jones.


    "Aye, the Light of the Sea... Cursed it be, and cursed I am, never to retrieve it myself. You are bold to speak of it." Jones''s eyes glowed slightly brighter as he spoke.


    "Boldness is my specialty. So, what do you say? I return this little gem, and in exchange, you grant me and my crew a year to bring you the Light? Seems like a fair trade for avoiding eternal servitude." Merrick smiled wryly at Jones. He sniffed at the stench of rotting fish that wafted off the skeletal captain.


    "Ye be a cunning one, Captain Draven. Very well. Fetch the Light of the Sea and bring it to Blackstone Isle. Fail not, or it''ll be your souls I’ll claim. You have one year." Davy Jones snatched the orb from Merrick''s hand with unnatural speed.


    "A year it is, then. Delightful doing business with you, Captain Jones. Let’s hope for both our sakes'' the winds favor us." Merrick said with a lighthearted smile.


    "Here be a warnin'' for what awaits ye if ye fail me Draven.." Jones raised a bony hand and snapped his fingers. In an instant, several of Merrick''s crew were cut down before they could even react. The skeletal sailors brandished their weapons, and struck down another few pirates who braved to attempt revenge for their comrades.


    Merrick raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, no need for violence!" Merrick begged.


    "Ye be a bold one, Captain Draven... Too bold. Cross me again, or fail, and there''ll be no parlay. You will fetch the Light of the Sea, and bring it to the very island you plundered this day. You have one year''s time or your entire crew will suffer my wrath." Davy Jones''s last words faded into the night as his crew retreated into the darkness, and Jones dematerialized from the deck of the Tiderunner.


    Merrick lowered his hands, and slowly turned to face his crew. He looked sheepishly at them. Roger Allerday stared daggers at Merrick. The swell returned, and a light breeze began to blow. This time, a natural breeze, and not that of the cold alien wind that accompanied Davy Jones. The deck of the Tiderunner rocked gently. The Forgotten Mariner disengaged with the Tiderunner, and drifted away, before completely submerging below the waves.


    "That wasn''t so bad." Merrick said at long last. He could see it in their eyes. The glint of mutiny. "Come lads, we''ve survived! At least most of us did. Now we''ve a new adventure, the Light of the Sea!" Merrick gestured wildly about himself, articulating his hands in a flourishing fashion.


    "Captain Merrick! A word, if ye please, ''fore this crew and the howlin'' winds!" Roger said, stepping forward, his voice loud enough to be heard over the growing wind. He tossed a coiled rope on the deck. "It''s about your secret trinket, the one bound to Davy Jones! And this Light of the Sea. You gambled with more than gold, Merrick, you gambled with our souls!" Roger accused Merrick angrily. Merrick sighed internally. Here it was.


    "Oh, that old thing? Just a bauble from the deep, Roger. I thought it might spruce up the cabin a bit, add a little ghostly charm." Merrick feigned shock, lifting his hands up once again, in a mock surrender.


    "This is no jest, Captain! You knew the peril it brought upon us! How can you stand there and make light of our doom?" Roger seethed at Merrick.


    "Because, Roger, my good man, if we can''t laugh in the face of doom, what are we even doing out here? Besides, who among us hasn''t fancied a dance with danger? Besides, now we have a better treasure to go after!" Merrick stepped forward, his expression serious for a split second before breaking into a sly grin again.


    "And what say ye lads? Will you follow this madcap into the jaws of the abyss for a chuckle and a shrug?" Roger asked, raising his voice so that all present could hear.


    The crew gave a mixture of laughter, nods, and uneasy glances. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a cutlass. Merrick interpreted this as a sign he might stand a chance yet.


    "See?! Adventure! Thrills! Near death experiences! It''s what we signed up for, isn''t it? Let''s not disappoint the legends they’ll write about us one day." Merrick replied to the crew at large.


    "No, Merrick. This time you''ve spun your last tale. We need a captain who’s more than just theatrics and close shaves." Roger said, lowering his voice and speaking directly to Merrick.


    Merrick sauntered over to Roger, and clapped an arm around his shoulders.


    "Roger, you wound me. I am all that and more. I promise, there''s a method to my madness. Stick with me, and there''ll be a story in it for you too!"


    Roger Allerday, the First Mate, gritted his teeth as he looked over the crew. There was a mixture of approval of the Captain, and anger against him. Perhaps it wasn''t quite the time for mutiny. They still needed the Light of the Sea to save their souls, and Captain Merrick almost certainly knew how to get it.