Rickety Old Ship

Word Count: 6,287

It was impossible for me to say how long I lay there adrift in the warm crystal-clear tropical waters of the Caribbean Sea. My lips cracked and bled, parched from the harsh sun and the salt lightly coating them, and my dried tongue swelled in my mouth like a malign puffer fish making it very difficult to breathe. As my virtually limp body dangled half-way off the piece of ship wreckage, I could feel the wrinkles in my feet as my high leather boots filled with the briny sea water. The splintered wreckage currently preserving my life dug into my water softened skin, and the briny water inflicted an insurmountable amount of pain. 

Surrounded by a light gray fog, my obscured vision extended not more than a couple of hundred feet in any direction. Surrounding me adrift, I saw the remnants of the large ship upon which I was recently a passenger. I saw no other survivors, and with my parched throat and bloated tongue, I found it impossible to call out. 

This was one of God’s magnificent jokes. Thirsting to death, I drifted in a sea of undrinkable, virtually poisonous water. If I were to drink the briny sea water, it would only hasten my pending demise. 

The course of the ship on which I was a passenger traveled along a heavily used merchant trading route, so I could only have faith another passing ship found me before the lapping waves washed me to the next life. Other sea vessels would have a greater chance of finding me if the rest of this thick heavy fog burned away, but that would leave me fully exposed to the unforgiving sunlight. 

This was God’s second greatest joke. He gave us a lifegiving sun we cannot live without, but then the same sun that gave life could burn a man to a blistering death. If I were not such a coward, I would let myself slip into the water to drown to spare myself such a gruesome fate. 

Call it courage or fear. Whatever it was, I intended to hold onto this life for as long as I could. Small waves slapped  gently, brushing my legs and the piece of broken wreckage currently preserving my life. The gentle sound of the smacking water made me even thirstier. I scanned the ocean around me hoping I might find a water keg still intact. I would take a bottle of rum if I could find it. Unfortunately, I found nothing drinkable anywhere near by. 

It seemed impossible for me to recall how long I was adrift, and I knew I would soon die of thirst. The salt soaking into my body through my skin only worked to accelerate the dehydration process reducing my remaining time in half. 

I felt something rubbing against my numbing legs. Streinously I rolled over and propped myself into a semi-seated position to try to get a look at what it was. I spotted something gently bobbing up and down in the water, but could not discern what it might be. Using my booted foot to turn over whatever it was, the pale-green, bloated corpse of another passenger rolled onto its back. I probably would have screamed with fear and disgust if my throat was not painfully dry. I tried to kick it away with my foot, but instead the belly ruptured from the gas buildup releasing the most foul of odors. The corpse appeared to be in the water for days. It could not be from the ship I was on, for it sank only the previous evening. 

The stench did not last long. With the putrid air escaping from its stomach, the body quickly sank into the depths of the sea. I did not see any other bodies floating in the water, but then again I did not notice this one until it brushed against my leg. With all of the wreckage floating about, it was virtually impossible to discern what anything was. I could easily be surrounded by the corpses of other passengers and not even know it. I wondered if I was the only survivor. 

My parched, cracked lips stung from the briny sea air, which dried my eyes until my vision blurred. If rescue did not come very soon, I knew death was a certainty. It became difficult to open my eyes; tear production in them stopped. I found myself envying the dead, the bloated corpses floating atop the water and concealed by the fog. At least they were spared the torturous, agonizing death I had the luxury of experiencing. 

I thought I lost it, that my mind was quickly fading when I heard splashing in the water. I knew my delusional mind; my desperate desire to be rescued created the hallucination of the sounds of oars in the water. The insanity brought on by dehydration tried to soothe my frightened soul. 

As everything faded to black, I heard a faint voice call out, “I have another one over here.” 

I thought it was the voice of an angel, here to take me to heaven. I awoke an unknown time later in the crew cabin of a squeaky wooden ship. I hung in a hammock between two posts swaying side to side, and was dressed in ragged but dry clothes. A pretty dark haired lass sat next to me slowly feeding fresh water into my mouth. I felt the world spinning and was unconscious once again. 

Unaware of it most of the time, the caring girl poured water, drop by drop, into my mouth. She coated my dry cracked lips with lard so they could start healing. I did not know how long it took, but the enchanting young girl slowly nursed me back to health. 

I awoke at one point and straining but weakly asked, “Others, were there others?” 

“Shh,” the young girl whispered softly. “You worry about you right now.” 

“My lips,” I said. “I-I can talk.” 

“Yes,” she said caringly, “but you must save your energy for healing” 

The dark haired young girl held a small bowl to my lips and told me to take a sip. It was an herbal tea, which tasted quite dreadful, but it made my irritated throat feel much better. The brew must have a sedating effect, because I was asleep again within minutes. 

The next time I awoke it was dark. I hung there gently swaying in the hammock and found my nurse was not with me. I did not hear her or anyone else aboard the ship. In the tight crew quarters, I should hear people snoring and breathing in their sleep. I should be able to hear the ship rats squeaking and scurrying in the corners. The only sounds I heard were the splashing of the water against the wooden hull and the creaking of the old planks as the ship rocked gently from side to side. 

I tried to climb out of my hammock, but I still did not possess the strength to lift myself. Relaxing back into my swing bed, I listened to the sounds around me. I heard the pots and pans from the galley clanking and ringing against one another. The wind blew across the opening at the top of the ladder producing a hauntingly deep, pipe-like sound. 

The thing that disturbed me, that filled me with fear, was I heard no other people. I remained conscious for several hours, but never once heard the crier announcing the hourglass. I wanted to drift back into a slumber. I was very tired, but this deep terror prevented me from attaining slumber. I figured it was just before dawn when I finally drifted off to sleep. 

The next time I awoke, I felt like I slept for several days. My nurse was again at my side, and I heard the captain shouting orders to the crew above. Hearing the flapping of the sails in the wind, I thought that strange silent night to be nothing more than a dream, that was if it were not for the incredible pain in my right leg. 

I tried to lean myself up. I wanted to get a look at my leg. My dark haired nurse read my motions and gently pressed me back down into my bed. 

“Your leg is badly broken,” she said compassionately. “The medicinal tea I gave you numbed the pain, but I can’t keep you in such a deep slumber forever.” 

I wished she would sedate me for a few more days, but then I realized I had not eaten since my rescuers brought me aboard. My nurse fed me droplets of water and tea as I slept, but without my being conscious, she could not feed me any solids. 

My head throbbed from hunger, thirst, fear and the combination of the rest of the ordeal. Several men elsewhere in the crew quarters joked and laughed loudly. They must have done something to earn a day off, and they really seemed to be enjoying it. By the sound of it, there were eight or ten of them. Their slurred speech and clanking of bottles told me they were inebriated on rum. 

I wished they would stop with the excessive noise, but I could not blame them. Leisure time on a ship such as this was indeed not a gift given frivolously. I thought of asking them for a swig of their drink, but with my growling stomach, I knew it would do no more than cause me to vomit. Best I wait until I filled my stomach before I wrapped my healing lips around a rum bottle. 

The precious girl returned soon. Seeing the agony the noisy men caused me, she snapped at them to shut up and get out of the crew quarters. The men grumbled and murmured a few swears under their breath but did not disobey her. 

I found it rather strange the sailors did not blatantly insult her or give her any kind of grief. I thought perhaps she was the daughter of the captain or a high paying passenger. Either way, I did not care. I was glad to have those drunken sailors out of the immediate vicinity. Until I got some food in me to help ease the pain in my skull, I preferred those drunken celebrators out of earshot. 

“Don’t mind them,” she said. “They didn’t mean any harm; they don’t get all too much time for such foolishness.” 

A delicious smoky, fishy aroma drifted from the girl’s direction and brought an appetite to my belly. 

“I brought you some soup,” the beautiful girl said politely. “I’m afraid cook didn’t have much to put in it.” 

I leaned my head forward as she lifted a spoon from the bowl to my mouth. The fish soup was not half bad. It was rather salty, but salting was the only way to preserve meats. Only so much brine could be cooked back out of it. 

“Thank you,” I said to the girl. “Thank you for being so kind.” 

Gently shaking her head, my brown-eyed nurse replied, “You don’t have to thank me. I am glad I can help you.” 

I slurped down the spoonful of soup quickly. My care taker told me I must slow down, least I get a stomach ache. I knew she was right, but my hunger would not let me think like that. Because I would not stop slurping down the large spoonfuls of liquid, the young lady fed me smaller servings. 

As I finished the meager meal, my nurse said, “We will have some fresh fruit tomorrow.” 

“H-how’s that?” 

“We’re stopping near a lush tropical island tomorrow,” she explained. “The captain will send a few boats ashore to gather some fresh food and water.” 

I wondered to what island she referred. The ship on which I was originally a passenger headed from the island of Haiti, and we were heading toward the Southern Americas. I was not aware of any islands on that route until we reached the continental rim. We were not headed east. I watched the yellow sun rise, the same sun that almost took my life, on the port side of the ship and set on the starboard side. That meant we must be sailing south, but where I did not know. 

I was about to ask the girl on what island were we stopping. As if anticipating my question, she excused herself and climbed the stairs to the deck of the ship. It almost felt as if she was trying to avoid my interrogations. 

I hung there in that hammock, with my leg set in a splint consisting of two small planks and a mass of rope. My head felt at bit better an hour or so after my meal of pickled herring soup. I attempted to sit, but sparks filled my eyes and my head throbbed like an African drum. I nearly blacked out and fell back into my hanging bed. Obviously, I was not as well as I felt a few minutes ago. 

My heartbeat pounded in my ears and the throbbing in my skull nearly made me lose the small amount of food I did manage to eat. Perhaps I would feel better tomorrow after I got some fresh fruit inside of me. I hoped they would find some segmented fruits. Depending on how much time we spent at sea, it might not be long before scurvy set in. 

I could not say for how long I hung there gently swinging in my hammock. For hours, I listened to orders shouted out, instructions given, and the sound of countless feet thrumming against the deck above. Eventually, I saw the sun shining through the starboard porthole. I knew it would be dark soon. 

My caring nurse came back into the crew quarters. I knew it was her because of her soft footsteps and the aroma of fishy soup. The first meal she fed me today did little to satiate my hunger. I could not wait to eat again. 

As she slowly fed me one spoonful after another, I considered asking her about the strange silence during the previous night. I changed my mind after seeing the stern look on her face. I was used to seeing her with a friendly face, but something about her countenance made me afraid to ask her anything. It was probably no more than a dream anyway, so I decided it was not worth mentioning. 

I was about half of the way finished with my soup when she finally spoke. 

“Are you okay sir?” she asked kindly. “You’ve been awful quiet.” 

“Yes,” I replied. “I just have a lot on my mind.” 

I sipped down a couple of more spoons full of soup and mustered up the nerve to ask her a question on my mind since I first became conscious aboard the ship. 

“Were there any other survivors, or was I the only one?” 

A long uncomfortable pause followed my interrogative. I did not find this to be a good sign. Either she was afraid to tell me or she was trying to quickly concoct a lie. 

“There were others,” she explained. “We brought seven aboard, including you. When the lifeboats found you, you were an inch away from oblivion’s door.” 

She still avoided giving me the answers for which I probed. I heard no one else in the dank crew quarters. If she did help nurse others back to health, I never heard them. As far as I knew, I was the only one in such bad shape. During the day I saw no one else down here. The one night I was awake, I did not hear anyone above deck either. Something strange was happening, but I could not say what. 

I should be able to get around soon enough. After my body recuperated from the whole ordeal, I should be able to find something to use as a crutch. I needed to get over my continued lack of food and water to allow my body to muster up some strength. 

The young nurse gave me another small bowl of the herbal tea after I finished my soup. I fell asleep shortly before dark and did not rise until the next morning. I heard the cranking of pullies and the creaking of rope. The rattling of tack and harnesses squealed as someone lowered several dinghies down onto the slapping water. 

The men must not have been to shore for quite some time. I heard them yelling out “yahoo,” “yippee,” and saying farewell to the other crew members. It almost sounded like they were never coming back. I thought the nurse may have lied, and this was more than a tropical island. If these men were indeed staying behind, there must be a port of some kind here. Unfortunately, I still could not stand, thus I could not look out of the porthole. 

We stayed anchored in place until midday of the following day. I heard the man in the crow’s nest announcing the smaller boats were returning from land. Twenty minutes later, I heard the lowering of the cargo planks. That must be for the fresh water and food the men brought from the island. 

After the supplies were all loaded onto the deck, I heard the splash of hooks at the end of heavy empty rope. Thirty seconds passed and someone shouted angrily. The voice demanded the men in the boats to attach the hooks. I heard grumbling and whining as some of the other crew members lifted the boats back to deck level. 

These were not the same happy voices I heard as the boats left for shore. These men sounded beaten and broken as if they lost all hope. I did not understand this odd reaction. So far, I found the ship quite comforting with the exception of the hauntingly silent nights and the strange return of the sailors who went to the land then returned. 

The men no sooner set foot on the deck before they were put to work scrubbing the deck and such. The captain did not waste any time. If these were indeed new crew members as I thought, he gave them no time to acclimate. 

An hour passed and my nurse returned to my side. She brought with her a fresh banana and a segmented orange fruit. If she handed me the food, I knew I would scarf it down. She probably realized this because she only gave me small pieces of fruit at a time. Over the course of the next forty-five minutes, my nurse spoke to me as she fed me the fruit and water. 

She did not speak of anything of much importance. Truth be told, I think she stuck with the small talk so as to avoid any serious subject matter. Despite her meaningless words, I had many questions of my own. 

“You told me they found other survivors from my ship,” I reminded her. “Where are they?” 

She took in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. I knew she did not want to tell me. The question was, why did she not want to tell me? What was it she was trying to hide? 

“Some of them the captain sent to shore,” she replied. 

I waited for her to continue, but she did not. If I was going to get anything out of her, I would have to be blunt. 

“Why were they sent to the island?” I asked, “The men who returned, were they the same men who went to shore?” 

Again she let out a deep sigh followed by a long awkward pause. 

“Those in the proper condition were left ashore,” she reluctantly replied. “They were dropped off on a veritable paradise.” 

“But will anyone find them?” I asked. “We can’t leave them marooned.” 

“Trust me,” she said. “In an Eden such as that, they will never want to leave.” 

Before I could ask her who the men were that returned in the boats, she excused herself and went back up to the deck. 

Her words meant nothing to me. They made no sense. I traveled these trade routes for years, and I never heard of any such island. How could a tropical island be a paradise? Hardships always existed, and insects spread disease. Shelter is hard to construct. Food can become scarce with the wrong weather. As far as I could discern, we went off and left the unfortunate men stranded. 

Later, the young dark-haired girl returned with a bowl of the tea. She allowed me to drink it rather quickly. As soon as it was gone, she left without saying a word. The pain in my leg faded slowly and I drifted off to sleep . 

Another week passed and infection set in my broken leg. My brown-eyed caretaker tried a variety of ointments and herbal poltus. She slowed the infection, but it began to progress its way up my leg. The young woman brought me the sedating tea three times a day. If she did not, I probably would have died from the pain. 

The next time I awoke, I felt like I slept for weeks. I sat upward in my hammock to look at the condition of my leg. I almost fainted. I almost vomited. When I looked down, my right leg was no longer there. The infection grew too great, and my leg was amputated as I slept. 

The pain was minimal, and I realized I must have been out for quite some time. My leg, severed at the knee, was healing nicely. If I was unconscious long enough for my leg to heal this far, how did I eat during that time? 

My nurse could spoon feed me water and possibly broth, but I would not have healed so quickly on such a meager diet. This only stood to raise more questions. 

I waited until dusk, expecting my nurse to come down at any time. She never came. All day long, I listened to the sounds of the sailors above. 

When nightfall came, everything fell silent. The only sounds were the creaking of the wooden ship. The first time I witnessed this strange event, I thought I must be dreaming. Now I knew better. It was as if all of the sailors vanished as soon as the sun set. This time I was absolutely sure I was not dreaming, and it terrified me beyond measure. I could not conceive of one logical explanation for the abrupt silencing of all those above deck. 

I did not sleep for the entire night. 

Something unholy lingered about this ship. What it was, I did not know. I only knew it was present. When the sun rose again in the morning, all of the sounds of the hardworking men resumed. Their words, their movements above deck resumed exactly where they left off last night. 

Only a few hours after dawn, I felt the ship slow nearly to a stop. The loud clanking of chains came from above as the crew lowered the anchor. I prayed it was my time to get off this ship. I hoped we stopped at a major port with a proper hospital. The anchor hit bottom and the boat softly jerked to a stop. 

It was not until then I realized it was raining outside. No wind seemed to blow against the ship, but I could hear it whistling across the deck. I could feel the air growing colder and knew a storm must be pushing its way in. Perhaps that was why the ship was at anchor. The captain may have anticipated strong weather and decided to ride it out anchored rather than while sailing. 

Then I heard the splash of two rowboats as they hit the water. The captain must be a fool to send his men to shore in rowboats with a strong storm approaching. We could not be that needy for supplies. 

I thought initially it was only days since our last stop, but then I realized it had to be much longer. I spent a lot of time unconscious, enough time for my leg to heal to the point the pain was nearly gone. Perhaps we were in more of a need for supplies than I realized. 

I waited for my nurse to return to my side, and the hours passed by slowly. Eventually I heard someone above announce the return of the rowboats. The deck hand only announced the return of one boat, but I was sure I heard two hit the water to head for land. The boat seemed to be returning awful early. I did not see how they could have gathered sufficient resources in such a short time. The clanking of the chains told me when the rowboat was being lifted back to deck level. 

I heard the men on the small boat moaning and wailing. It reminded me of the cries coming from a battlefield after the fighting concluded. It was the cries of those defeated, left with no hope, and abandoned to die. The tormented sounds nearly made me sick. I could not fathom what could happen in such a short time to make these men cry like this. 

There was a thud and a man screamed out in pain. When the pattern repeated, I realized the men were being drug forcibly from the dinghy to fall hard onto the deck. If these men were ill, they should not be brought back on board. They could bring diseases onto the ship that would rapidly spread in these close quarters. 

I thought about the second boat. I had no doubt I heard two of them splash into the sea, but only one dinghy returned. Could it be they were attacked when reaching shore? That would explain both the missing rowboat and the wails of the men returning. 

At this point, I had no idea where in the Americas we were. The sun continued to rise on the port side of the ship indicating we still headed south. It could be very possible the ship worked its way up and down the coast. Without knowing our location, I did not know what kind of natives these men dealt with. They could be coming back injured, poisoned, diseased, or a combination of two or more. If they were sick, the captain was a fool to ever let them back on board. To protect the other passengers and crew, the captain should have left them behind to die so as to save the others. 

My nurse did not return to my side until several hours following the return of the rowboat. When she did come down to the crew quarters, she did not say much. For some reason, she acted very cold and distant. The child did not show the compassion and caring in her eyes she did thus far. She was nothing but considerate and caring to me until now. 

The lass gave me a bowl of stew and a large red apple. She left as abruptly as she arrived, not saying a word the entire time. I assumed she had patients above who needed attending more than me. If that was the case though, why were none of the injured brought down here with me? I was sure I would have time to ask her later. 

I ate the stew, but I hesitated when I thought of eating the apple. If this was just brought on board, I did not want to eat it. Since the boat was not gone long enough for the men to gather any fruit, I eventually broke down and consumed the juicy red apple. It was not as good as a segmented fruit, but it would help stave off the scurvy. 

I placed the apple core in the bowl and gently dropped it beside my hanging bed. I found my eyes burning and realized I was awake for more than a full day. Pulling the blanket over my cold body, I quickly went to sleep. At least asleep I was spared the ghostly silence of the night. 

We must have sailed very far to the south because the air grew colder with each passing day. For the next week, I only saw my nurse when she brought me my meal for the day. The young dark-haired girl brought me a cup of her herbal tea, which always helped me sleep through the night. 

One day I decided not to drink the tea so that I could remain awake. 

She must have had other patients located somewhere on this ship. I never got a chance to ask her about the crying men, the continuous rain, or the increasingly colder temperature. I wondered if I did something to anger the young woman. Perhaps I said something in my sleep that greatly offended her. 

When darkness fell, the sounds on the deck silenced as usual. I heard the creaking of the ship and the clanging of the metallic pots in the galley, but this time I could also hear the other men wailing like their souls were being torn asunder. Terror like no other overwhelmed me. I wanted to drink the tea so I would sleep and forget about the pain in my leg. On the other hand, I was afraid of what could be happening to me as I slept. 

I awoke in the morning to find the burning in my eyes grew worse. I knew I caught something the men on this last dinghy brought aboard. My left eye stung, but my right eye burned with a searing pain. My right ear ached as if someone punched me hard in the side of the head. The cold only made the irritation intensify. 

I still used the blanket given to me after my rescue. It was very dirty and did very little to shield me from the piercing cold. I looked around trying to locate something more I could use for insulation. The only thing I saw that might contain blankets was a closet at the front of the crew cabin. My nurse never stayed long enough for me to ask her much of anything. If I was going to find more blanketing, I would have to get it myself. 

I rolled out of the hammock and onto the floor. I was instantly reminded of the pain in my amputated leg when I hit the creaky wooden surface.  

Pulling my way toward the closet was easier than what I originally thought. I giggled with joy when I found the closet unlocked and a stack of blankets inside. I wedged myself into the corner and covered myself with all of the wool blankets. As my body warmed, I drifted off to sleep. 

I slept through the night and woke when the ship jolted to a halt. We did not hit anything or water would be flowing in through the hull. That must mean the captain once again dropped anchor. I heard very little commotion above, nowhere as much as when compared to the day I was brought aboard. It seemed to me we did not slow much before the crew dropped the anchor causing the ship to jerk hard. 

My right eye completely swelled shut. Try as I might, I could not open it. I felt it with my hand and felt a scar running from the bridge of my nose to the severed tip of my right ear. The scar was not new. I felt no scabs, only deformed flesh. Terror filled me as I felt the old wound on my face. 

Only yesterday I had the use of both eyes. How could it be that my right eye would now be nothing more than a horribly disfiguring scar? Panic set in and I threw the blankets off my body. Strapped to my missing right leg was a long wooden peg, mahogany by the looks of it. Chills filled me, not from the stabbing cold, but from the truth I was coming to realize. 

Forcing myself to a stand, I walked on the wooden leg with great proficiency. This was not the first time I walked on my peg leg. The prosthetic thumped against the floor as I made my way to the stairs. Standing at the top was my nurse. Her forearm was slashed from elbow to wrist, and a musket wound pierced her chest. Suddenly I remembered why she looked so familiar. 

She was a passenger on a Spanish galleon headed from the Americas bound for Europe. In addition to transporting passengers, the ship carried a vast wealth of gold and jewels. I was the captain of a ship of buccaneers who pirated the transport. 

The girl hid in a closet when my men and I boarded the Spanish galleon. The crew of the vessel fought back courageously, but they were no match for my seasoned men. I led a group below deck to seize and secure the precious treasures. I fired two of my muskets as we took the deck of the ship before dropping them on the deck. My last musket I carried in one hand as I held my saber in the other. 

An elderly man surprised me when he jumped from around a corner with a dagger in hand. He slashed at my musket arm with the sharp blade and, as I jerked back, the musket went off. The man dropped to his knees and cried out. After slashing his throat, I went to the closet to see what he thought so precious he was willing to give up his own meaningless life. I opened the door and there was the dark-haired, brown-eyed girl. Blood pulsed from a hole in her chest. 

When the foolish old man caused me to misfire, the pistol fired into the closet instead of putting a whole in his chest. The old man hid her because he knew what my men and I would do with her. I clearly remembered the look on the girl’s face as she fell forward. I tried to catch her and her forearm slid down the length of my blade. Without a second thought, I threw her lifeless body out of my way. 

I helped set up the powder kegs to destroy the ship as my men carried the gold and surviving women aboard my vessel. I would let my men have their way with the screaming women until we grew weary of them and threw them into the sea. Not that I cared, but the little girl was spared that fate. She did not have to experience being brutally raped over and over by a crew of pirates, who would later toss them into the ocean when their fun with them was over. 

We finished laying the fuses to the kegs and tied them together at the ends. Another fuse ran from there to the top of the deck like a rope. There had to be enough to make sure we got it to light after we moved away. I finished up and then I heard the splash of the boarding plank falling into the water. It was mutiny. 

My first mate smiled and waved to me while someone threw a firepot onto the deck of the Spanish galleon. I watched my ship, the Cerberus, moving away as the strung fuses burned around me. I cursed my first mate to hell only seconds before the transport vessel exploded into a show of flame and splintered fragments. 

The next thing I remembered was floating in the water holding tightly to a piece of the ship’s hull. I floated there in the salty water until this ship came by and rescued me. 

I heard the two dinghies hit the water as the last of the ship’s crew abandoned their vessel. The lass stood on the deck looking into the crew quarters, looking at me. The dark-haired girl smiled a caring smile as a halo of blue light engulfed her body. I felt the warming love radiating around the girl as she stepped backward and disappeared into the light. 

I cried out, pleading for her not to leave me. I begged her not to leave me alone. The beautiful glow retreated from me as I staggered up the stairs to the upper deck. I tried to catch up to the heavenly light; I wanted so desperately to go into the light. 

Suddenly the anchor chain snapped and I fell flat to my face. When I looked up, the beautiful blue light was gone. I was left aboard the vessel alone. The tattered sails caught a wind not there. I grabbed the helm and tried to take control of the ship. The rudder was stuck; I could not get the helm to turn. I struggled with the wheel as the scorched Spanish flag flapped on the mast above me. 

Days passed and I could not find any food or water. I saw no land, but even if I did, I had no rowboat to get me there. By the fifth day, I should have been dead. My stomach cramped with hunger and my dry lips cracked and bled. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. I reached a level of thirst and hunger I never imagined possible. 

I realized I would not die because I was already dead. The others were dropped off in the places they deserved, either a place of paradise, punishment or something in-between. This was my punishment. This was my hell. I was doomed to spend eternity forever sailing south without food or water into increasingly cold weather aboard this rickety old ship. 

Copyright 2018 – Michael Wilson