In the Wake of the Kraken

by C. Vandyke

  I’m not sure whether it’s desperation that makes the wine taste as good as it does, but my eyes drift shut as a moan of pleasure escapes my lips.

  “Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself,” a voice rumbles at my ear.

  Stickleby. My stomach drops and I clench the cup between whitened knuckles. “It’s better than I expected.”

  “It should be,” he replies, moving to stand in front of me. “I know my wines.”

  Keeping my head dipped, I hide my face beneath my cap, staring at the shiny buckles on his polished black shoes. I grunt in response and move to turn away, but he reaches out a hand and places it on my arm.

  “Your little ruse is up, Ms. Lockheart.”

  I stiffen, panic fluttering over my skin as I look up at him. Searching his face, I try to read his expression. “So, now what?”

  Barnard leans against the side, tilting his head as he looks at me. “Well, we could throw you overboard, but that seems a little archaic. Plus, it would be a shame to ruin your outfit.”

  I narrow my eyes at the smirk playing on his lips. “What then?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he says. “Tell me. Why do you want to go to Isla de los Torcidos?”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “I told you before, it’s none of your business.”

  “You’ve stowed away on my ship,” he says, his unusually coloured eyes glinting. “I’d say it’s most definitely my business.”

  Staring up at him as I consider my response, I run my tongue over my dry lips. Barnard tracks the movement, his jaw tightening.

  “Please take that ridiculous hat off,” he snaps.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Why?”

  “Because you look like a small boy.”

  My brows raise further. “And what’s wrong with that?”

  Barnard pushes off the side and before I can react, grabs the hat from my head and tosses it overboard. “Because, while I can appreciate a good-looking man, it makes me extremely uncomfortable finding a young boy attractive.”

  I blink, my mouth falling open. Before I can respond, screams rattle the sails and I spin around to find people hauling themselves up over the side of the boat. My shriek of terror lodges in my throat as I watch the wild eyes of the invaders, with either knives between their teeth or war cries on their lips.

  Pirates.

  Barnard shoves me behind the wine barrels. “Hide!”

  I have no time to protest as he draws a large, curved sword and dives into the fray. Passengers are screaming as the pirates tear jewellery from their throats and I jam my fingers in my mouth to stifle my horror as a female pirate severs a large woman’s fingers to better remove her rings. Are these the people Leonora has chosen to spend her time with? A fresh wave of nausea rushes through me as I wonder whether these are Braddock’s crew. I can barely breathe as I scan their faces for my sister’s.

  “I’ve got him!” a rasping voice calls out beside me.

  Staring in dismay, I find a weather-beaten pirate, with more gold hoops through his face than could possibly be comfortable, has Barnard clasped against his chest, a serrated blade close enough to his throat that I can see blood beading above his Adam’s Apple.

  “Excellent!” A young woman with short blonde hair and heavily lined dark green eyes steps forward, a gold sword swinging in her hand. “You’re looking well, Stickleby.”

  “As are you, Jess,” Barnard says, charming despite the blood dripping down his neck.

  “Did our invitation to your little shindig get lost in the mail?” Jess steps closer, dragging the tip of her blade over his chest. “Braddock will be extremely offended.”

  Barnard swallows with a wince. “This isn’t a shindig. This is a few drinks en route to Newport. I’ve paid my passage.”

  I blink. Passage. Is that how Stickleby manages to amass so much wealth while other ships are plundered and lost?

  “Yes, well,” Jess says with a sigh. “Braddock wants to double the fee.”

  “Double?” Barnard splutters.

  Jess cocks a dark eyebrow. “Yes. She has a wedding to pay for.”

  She? My head spins. Braddock is alive? She’s a woman?

  “Congratulations to the happy couple,” Barnard says. “Please, take four crates of my finest chocolate as an engagement gift.”

  Jess dips into a shallow bow. “Braddock and Leonora will be thrilled.”

  The world drops away at my feet and I sway, knocking into the barrels with a soft thud. Barnard launches into a coughing fit, drawing their attention from my hiding place as I try to swallow my pounding heart.

  The pirates have herded the passengers of the Lucky Maiden onto the quarterdeck, whimpering and shivering with fear. I watch as a handful of pirates descend below deck and reappear with clearly more than four crates, which they lower overboard to where I assume their boats are waiting. As the pirates slowly leave, I realise there are more than a couple of bodies lying lifeless on the deck. My eyes burn.

  “You know,” the man with the gold hoops hisses. “I think you’ll still be able to pay Braddock with one ear. Or maybe with one eye. It’s not natural for a man to be so pretty.”

  Barnard’s eyes widen and before I know what I’m doing, I crawl out from behind the crates, my dagger in hand. Time seems to move in slow motion as I rise to my feet and lodge my blade through the pirate’s neck. He staggers backwards, releasing Barnard as I yank my dagger free. I have no idea what to do next, but before panic can set in, Barnard heaves the pirate over the side of the ship. The splash marking his fall is lost amidst the shouting and wailing around us.

  “We’ll see you soon, Stickleby,” Jess calls from the other side of the ship, waving as though they’re old friends.

  She either didn’t see what we did to one of her crew or simply doesn’t care, because she leaps overboard and descends out of sight.

  We stand in silence, the laughter of the receding pirates growing fainter. It’s only now that I spy a ship on the horizon.

  “Is that the Midnight Scythe?” I whisper.

  “Unlikely,” Barnard says. “Jess has her own ship she uses to run Braddock’s errands.”

  I nod, my eyes fixed on the distant ship. Leonora and Braddock. It was too much of a coincidence.

  “Thank you,” Barnard says, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. “You saved me.”

  My cheeks burn as I pull my hand away. “I saved your ear. Possibly an eye.”

  “Tell me,” he says, the mirth fading from his face. “Why are you going to Torcidos?”

  I swallow. “I was looking for my sister, Leonora.”

  It takes a moment for the realisation to settle on his face, his eyes widening. “Your sister is Leonora? Braddock’s bride?”

  “It certainly sounds like it.” The realisation is bitter on my tongue.

  Around us, the crew is cleaning up like the attack is a regular occurrence, comforting the patrons and handing out wine and chocolate.

  I turn away and face the horizon. “Why did you refuse me passage?”

  Barnard leans against the railing with a sigh. “Honestly? Because you looked like trouble.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He smirks, shooting a glance at where I skewered a pirate moments earlier. “Tell me I was wrong.”

  I groan and rest my head on my arms.

  “What now, then?” Barnard asks gently.

  “Our father’s dying. He wants to see her. But now…”

  “Now you’ve experienced the joy of pirates firsthand, you’ve lost your nerve?”

  I glare up at him but find nothing but kindness on his face. “I don’t know.”

  “Come with me,” Barnard says, taking my hands in his. “I have a score to settle with Braddock, and you need to speak to your sister. Why don’t we help each other?”

  I stare at our joined hands, adrenaline thrumming in my veins. Is this what Leonora craved? Is this what adventure feels like? Two paths lie before me, and one is paved with electric sparks a
nd danger—the same sparks and danger I see in Barnard’s eyes.

  “I thought I was too dangerous?”

  He runs his thumbs over my hands, his lips curving. “Turns out, I like danger.”

  Squeezing his hands, I smile. “Let’s crash a wedding.”

  * * *

  The End.

  Accounts From Doctor Pendergast’s Chronicle

  Imelda Taylor

  Day 1111

  I decided that today is my anniversary here on St Madeline. Although not accurate, I feel I need to mark my existence. Unfortunately, I couldn't start from day one. I wish I could say I remember when I first set foot on the island. There are times when I wonder if this is the afterlife.

  Home. My mind wanders to my home. It has been a while... Who would have known that joining the Navy crew would change my life forever. I left my family and the comfort I didn't realise I had in exchange for adventures beyond the seas.

  I only have one life. I wanted to live the adventures I heard from my mariner and merchant patients. Being a surgeon, my services were sought after on-board the ship. I wasted no time and joined the Navy crew.

  I took my personal chest, full of medicine of my choosing and all the tools I required. It was the greatest feeling ever. I took pride in serving the King and country.

  After being at sea for some time, I realised how much of an asset I was to the ship’s crew. One by one, they started getting ill from scurvy, dysentery, skin diseases, and infections. The grand exterior of the ship didn't match what's inside, not to mention the stench. I was kept busy. If it wasn’t for me and my tools, more would have died. The captain knew he owed the wellbeing of his crew to me, and I was paid handsomely after every expedition.

  Word spread about my skills. Before I knew it, a band of pirates captured me, led by Captain Boylant. They took me and my chest on their ship. It was humiliating to be treated like the drunkards we took in the Navy. I reminded them of my status, but I was whipped and threatened they would cut off my tongue. Previously, I thought nothing of this beating of sailors day in, day out to the lower levels; it was a common practice and they should have seen it coming for being wilful. But now... I ponder our beliefs and our actions. Perhaps I displeased God in the past.

  Work was much harder. I was excused from any other on board chores in the Navy. Here, I was treated like a common crew member.

  Furthermore, the chest needed replenishing. There wasn't enough medicine.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said the captain.

  ‘When we reach our destination, we won’t need any treatments and cures. We need not worry about life as we know it.’

  I did not understand what he meant then. Later on, I learnt they were heading to St Madeleine, home of the so-called Well of Eternal Life.

  They were foolish for believing in such a myth. Yet, there were a dozen willing men who held me and a few others, including children, captive, just to chase for something that surely was fantasy. From a life full of pride to being a prisoner of the insane, how quickly fate turned. On the other ship, I was treated with great importance, but now I'm a mere tool, a slave.

  Day in, day out, I ponder what has become of me.

  The captain warned the crew of the storm surrounding the island. All hands on deck, myself included. It was fierce. The water whipped worse than the captain's flogger, with its salty spray burning my eyes. The violent waves lifted and tossed the ship about. The wind blew strongly, howling like a beast of the sea, with a strength to snap the mast like a matchstick. And like a dark velvet curtain, the sea shrouded us all.

  I woke up to the crashing of the sea. The wind continued to howl, but not as fierce. From a distance, I could see the storm. The lighting in the sky had its beauty, soft behind the clouds, like marble with golden cracks. However, where I stood, the sky was merely overcast. Despite my limited knowledge of weather, I found this rather unusual.

  Bits and pieces of washed up ship became my home. Soon, the locals learnt about my skills and sought my services.

  I learnt about the island’s secret. The Well of Eternal Life. Up to this day, I have never laid eyes on the actual well itself. However, I had many patients so eager to get their hands on it, they even risked drinking what they presumed was the same water coming from the well despite its [disgusting] appearance.

  The lower deck of the ship is now a hospital for the unfortunate souls.

  Of course, I say hospital as a rough definition. My medical supplies ran out many moons ago and my surgical tools are blunt and rusty, not to mention my trembling hands and my poor eyesight. None is fit for purpose.

  Not far from behind the ship is a graveyard where bodies of former patients were buried.

  After my brush with death, I was tempted to seek eternal life. Until I met those who actually had the misfortune of gaining eternal life. They come to me with their ailments—repeatedly. Painful cries of agony as they keep living, yet their bodies continue to deteriorate. The wounds stop healing. They carry on aging and beg for death to come. But it is too late. I realised the well is not a blessing, but a curse. It is a cruel tool for torture. If the Captain knew, would he have wasted the life of his crew?

  Never in my life had I imagined such a thing actually existed. I saw many births and deaths in my occupation; it sealed my belief in the miracle of life God had given us. Now my views on life and death are blurred. Dare I even say I question the existence of God Himself.

  Oh my Lord, forgive me for my thoughts. I know not what I speak. I ask for your guidance and help me follow your light.

  Sometimes I ask myself, why was I the only one to survive? What is God’s plan for me? Why has He chosen me? Up to now, I seek the answers to these questions. As I get old and frail, I cannot help imagine what death could be like. It scares me, especially with my knowledge.

  However, today, I am alive. I celebrate surviving; I celebrate life.

  Day 1112

  More items washed up on shore. It suggests that the sea storm surrounding the island claimed another ship.

  Today’s item include:

  A crate of rum

  A whole crow’s nest

  Ropes

  Sack full of [unknown things]

  A ship’s sail

  A couple of hammocks

  A quality brass spyglass, lenses intact.

  When days like this happen, I would like to believe that God is sending me blessings as I always find use for the things later on. However, I cringe at the thought that the sea has claimed so many lives. I imagine the person touching the item in my hand. But the idea that people died so I can have these things haunts me.

  Today I thought I'd watch the storm. I wanted to face the very monster that claimed so many lives. It is fascinating that the storm clouds don't seem to move. They just stay in the same spot on the horizon.

  Day 1117

  Today, I found a compass. According to it, I am in the North.

  But the highlight of the day was finding a chest. Inside the chest is a proper treasure: books on herbs and their healing properties, an anatomy of the human body and a scale. It holds information which is new to me that makes me wonder how much the world I used to have had evolved.

  I went foraging for herbs and roots and tried my hands on this new alchemy. Some need several days to brew and seep. I can't wait to try them on my patients.

  Day 1119

  Today, I went exploring, and you'd never believe what I discovered while travelling. Pineapples! An entire field of pineapple. I could smell their sweet sweet scent from where I stood.

  The very first time I saw one was at the Stickleby's, the richest merchant on the floating market. It stood on his desk with all its glory. The gold mixed with its green crown and diamond pattern is a thing of beauty. Never did I imagine I'd be witnessing an entire field of them.

  In the distance a couple of men are harvesting them! What ignorance! Clearly, these benighted fools are clueless of its value. Worse off, they sliced and ate it. I wanted t
o set these men straight, but they were armed with sharp tools.

  Alas! They saw me.

  "Doctor!" one of them called. His white teeth glistened in the sun as he smiled. How did he know me?

  "Fancy a spot of lunch?" He reached out and offered me a piece of pineapple.

  My stomach growled. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was.

  "Go on, doctor, don't be shy." The man approached with a huge knife, which almost looked like a sword.

  I froze. I wanted to run but before I knew it, the sweet smelling fruit seduced me. I gave in and took a bite. If ambrosia ever existed, it would be this. It tasted sweet with a hint of tang. The juice burst in my mouth and trickled down my chin, but I didn't care.

  "Good, isn't it, doctor? But be careful with the hard bit in the middle, it can make your tongue itch. Come have more with us." The man led me to his friend, and we sat together.

  I had to tell them how precious pineapples are where I come from, but not eaten. The men laughed.

  "No doubt they are precious, doctor. But we seem to have a different way of showing appreciation. On this island, we don't let it rot on a table," said one of the men as he held up a whole one. "You are right about its beauty." He then cut the crown off and shared the fruit with us. "We enjoy it. Let it serve its purpose: to provide us sustenance and if you're like me, heal your soul too." He then placed the crown on the ground. "Then let it live again. Now, the treasure is within us."

  As we parted, I gained friends, Jim and Juan. I was a tad embarrassed I didn't recognise that he was a former patient. The truth is—I couldn't see their faces clearly. Our conversation stirs my soul.