by Ben Hammott
Fighting through the few creatures that had ventured below, Trent entered his cabin and slammed the door shut. He turned the key in the lock and stepped back when the pursuing creatures thudded against it. Hoping it would withstand the barrage, he focused on the door. Panting heavily from terror and his run, he sunk into his padded chair when they changed tactics and started scratching their sharp claws on it. He cocked an ear to the door when the screeches and scratching suddenly ceased. Had they given up and gone in search of easier prey?
A series of heavier clacking claw-steps grew louder as they approached. Something bigger had arrived. Trent pictured one of the smaller creatures larger; it would be formidable, vicious and inescapable. He trembled at the thought of his impending, painful death. The ominous clacks halted outside the door. Something growled, deep and menacing, heightening his fear, something he hadn’t experienced for a long time. He had faced overwhelming odds in battles during his pirate profession, but that was against men, not this hoard of hell-spawned devils.
Trent pushed back into his chair and cursed his quaking legs. He grabbed a bottle of rum from a desk drawer and gulped down a long swig to top up his waning courage. Startled when a claw struck the door with enough force to penetrate through with a splintering crack of timber, he watched the large hooked talon rip at the wood when it withdrew. Two more wood splintering blows created a gap large enough for the creature responsible to look through. Quaking with terror, Trent stared into its bright, evil eyes.
When it snarled at him and attacked the door with increased ferocity, Trent grabbed the lantern from a ceiling hook and threw it at the door. The lamp smashed, sending burning oil spraying through the gap. The splintered door whooshed into flame, causing the creature to screech and cease its attack. Driven back by the heat, it peered through the fire at him. Trent threw the rum at it, adding more fuel to the fire. Unable to reach its prey blocked by the flames, the large creature raced away with its smaller brethren following.
With his courage infused by his small victory, the will to survive surged through Trent. He moved to a large chest, opened it and stared at the precious plunder within; it was too vast for him to be able to save it all. The crackle of flames creeping into the room spurred him into action. He fished a silver chest the length of his forearm from the booty, and regretting the loss of the stolen treasure; he rushed to the window. He flung it open and as he climbed out noticed the strange seaweed gathering around the hull. Another oddity to add to today’s strange events. He scaled the stern and peered over the rail.
As he gazed across the flame-and smoke-washed deck at his dead crew being feasted on by their vicious killers, a shadow moving across the rail he clung to alerted him to danger much closer. He swung his cutlass when he twisted to confront it and sliced through three stalks. As they wavered frantically spewing their dark sap-blood, Trent glimpsed movement by the midship rail. It wasn’t anyone from his crew. Surprised someone had survived the creature’s wrath, he climbed over the railing and concealed himself behind the wheel, watching to see what the person would do.
Fearful he would be spotted by the creatures when they appeared, Tom had remained flat in the boat as he listened to their piercing yells and the screams of the pirate crew as they had slaughtered them. When all sounds of battle had ceased for a few moments, he risked a peek over the gunwale.
Except for a few creatures milling around the deck, the Fortuyn seemed deserted. He turned his gaze to the pirate ship. Groups of animals were feasting on their slaughtered victims while another group gathered around the stern doorway. They suddenly moved away when smoke poured over them from below. The ship was aflame. The giant creature leaped through the smoke and shrilled to the others before returning to the Fortuyn. The smaller animals followed his lead and abandoned the pirate ship. Some dived into the sea; others jumped across to the Fortuyn.
Unaware the flames would consume both vessels if left tethered, some of the creatures followed the big one below Fortuyn’s deck. Though some lingered topside to lick up spilled blood and fight over scraps of flesh, the majority of those remaining climbed over the side and returned to the weed.
Tom stared at the smoke pouring from the bow doorway and turned his attention back to the Fortuyn and the few creatures moving about.
Realizing he needed to make a decision, and quickly, Tom believed he stood a better chance of surviving on the burning pirate ship than the monster-infested Fortuyn. Praying the creatures wouldn't spot him, he climbed the winch line fixed to the small boat’s bow and swung onto the rigging, before climbing up to the lower yardarm, running along its length and leaping across. He grabbed the rigging aboard the pirate ship and dropped to the deck. Keeping low, he moved to the starboard side and gazed back at the Fortuyn. One of the creatures perched on the sterncastle glanced in his direction briefly before turning back to devouring the morsel of flesh it had snatched from its brethren. Keen to be free of the savage fiends and turn his thoughts to his escape from the burning vessel, Tom turned away and moved along the rail to the nearest grappling rope holding the two ships together. Using his knife, he sawed through until it snapped free.
A creature turned its head to the sound of a grappling hook clattering to the Fortuyn’s deck. Spying no threat and nothing it could eat, it turned away and continued lapping up the blood from the deck boards.
After observing the boy the pirate captain assumed had come from the Fortuyn begin severing the grappling ropes, Trent crept from his hiding place and climbed down the quarterdeck steps.
Tom moved along the starboard side cutting through the ropes, and the two ships drifted apart a little more. When there was only the tether nearest the bow remaining, the pirate ship’s stern swung out. The bow scraped along the Fortuyn’s and swiveled on its off-center restraint. Wood splintered when the two ship’s ground against each other. The bowsprit snapped when it snagged on the Fortuyn’s rigging, and the mermaid figurehead on the prow was ripped off.
“What’s yer plan, boy?”
Tom almost stumbled to the deck when he spun to face the voice, his knife poised to attack.
“You’ll need a bigger weapon than that toothpick to take me down, boy,” said Trent, grinning.
Tom lowered the small weapon and glanced briefly at the small silver chest tucked under the pirate captain’s arm. “Cut the ships free and then use one of the landing boats to escape your burning ship.”
Trent nodded his agreement. “Aye, lad. A sound plan. But before we do, best we grab some victuals to sustain us as we’re a long way from land.”
He glanced at the smoke and flames pouring from the stern doorway and then at the forward door. The wind sweeping below funneled the smoke toward the stern, leaving the bow entrance relatively smoke-free. He refocused on the boy.
“I’ll cut the final line, grab us a cask of water and prepare the boat for launching while you nip to the galley and grab us some provisions. Cook was preparing a meal when we spotted your ship, so if those monsters haven’t gobbled it up, there should be some cooked meat down there.”
Though unsure he could trust the pirate, Tom was low on options. “Aye, Captain.” Fighting the rolling of the ship, he sprinted for the entrance to the bow, and after checking it was free of flame, and creatures, headed below.
The creature on the aft deck that had been observing the two humans leaped down, jumped onto the starboard rail and scampered along it. When another noticed its brethren’s sudden activity, it gazed across at the other ship to work out its objective. Spying the human meal its excited brethren headed for, it rushed to the rail to try and be the first to reach it.
A swift strike from Trent’s cutlass severed the last rope holding the two ships together. Gradually the wind and waves moved them apart. A movement cast his gaze to the side. His cutlass swung at the creature leaping across the gap between the two ships and sliced it in two. Both halves landed on the deck and continued moving. The front half dragged its amputated body toward the captain’s f
oot. A swift stamp of his boot crushed it to a pulpy mess. Trent gasped and staggered back when a slightly larger version of the creature slammed into his chest and clawed at his skin. The silver casket slipped from his grasp and sprung open when it struck the deck, spraying diamonds, rubies and other precious gems in all directions. Trent frantically slammed the cutlass pommel into the creature while trying to pull it free with his other hand. Ripping off a clawed limb, he threw it to the deck and grabbed another. The creature snapped at his fingers, biting a tip clean off. Stepping back, Trent slipped on the jewels and fell, smashing the back of his head against the boards. The creature continued its attack and furiously sliced talons across his chest and neck, shredding the captain’s throat. As the pirate’s life faded, the beast feasted.
Flames devoured anything that would burn as the fire crept hungrily through the wooden ship — turning goods, furniture, walls, and doors to charred devastation. Finding its way to the gunpowder store, it lapped at the stacked barrels of black powder.
Tom was thrown to the floor by the force of the explosion. Ripped apart timber and deadly splinters filled the air, killing any monsters within the blast radius. After the rocking subsided, the ship remained at a list. Water gurgled into the splintered hole blasted below the waterline. The vessel was now not only aflame but also sinking.
Tom climbed to his feet. Using the walls to steady himself against the incline and the rolling of the pitching ship, he entered the galley. A sound froze him to the spot. His frightened gaze focused on the end of the serving counter from where the slurping, grunting noises came. Aware it was imperative he salvaged as many provisions as possible before the sea claimed the vessel and him, Tom forced his legs into motion. Cautiously edging left, his feet picked a silent route through the pots, pans and kitchen utensils scattered across the floor. He peered at the head and chest of the corpse poking past the counter’s end, its face frozen in terrified, agonized death. Tom assumed it was the pirate cook the captain had mentioned. The head lolled to the side. Its lifeless fear-frozen gaze stared into Tom’s, which was just as scared. The head of a small creature appeared, paler than the others he had seen, a creamy gray with what looked like pink blisters on its body. It crawled up the cook’s torn-open corpse and began feasting on his face. Latching teeth on a lip, it pulled until a chunk was torn free. After devouring the morsel, it moved in for more but stopped, sniffed the air and turned its evil head to Tom’s position.
As its head turned, Tom ducked down behind the end of the counter. He thought the creature he hadn’t seen him, but after a few moments, he heard its slow approach.
Water flowed into the galley as the ship dipped its stern, reminding Tom that it was slowly sinking, and his time aboard was fast running out. The creature’s movements had ceased. Had it gone? Had it returned to feasting on the cook?
The ship jolted to the side when the seawater that was filling its bowels adjusted to a new level from its shifting weight. Tom needed to move before the vessel became his coffin and the seabed his grave. He climbed to his feet and came face-to-face with the creature perched on the serving counter. The beast snarled as it hunched, ready to spring. Fighting the lopsided and tipping angle of the ship, Tom grabbed a hanging pot from its hook and slammed it down on the abomination’s head. Dark goo splattered the counter. He cautiously lifted it. The dark glutinous blood stretched like melted cheese between counter and pot base. He dodged back with a gasp when small versions of the creature scurried from blisters splitting open on its abdomen like spiders hatching from their eggs. He whacked them with the pot and moved away.
His quick gaze around the kitchen spied a pan on the stove tipped on its side. He crossed to it and pulled the hunk of meat from amongst the steaming heap of stewed vegetables; it was the pirates’ meal the cook had been preparing when he and those who would have eaten it became a meal themselves. He grabbed a sack that still had a few potatoes in it, added the gravy-dripping joint and scooped inside some raw vegetables littering the preparation area. A glance back at the counter revealed the tiny devils that had survived the battering crawling across it. Slinging the heavy sack over a shoulder, he sloshed through the water. Battling the increasingly acute angles of the ship, Tom struggled along the corridor and climbed the steps.
His gaze around the deck picked out the lifeless form of the captain being hoisted into the air by weed tendrils which dragged him over the side. His eyes spotted things sparkling on the deck and the sliding silver chest they had spilled from, which had come to a halt against a cannon. Though he had never owned or held any precious stones, they were easily recognizable for what they were. With his wary gaze on the stalks slithering back over the side, Tom placed his ration sack against the foremast and cautiously moved to the captain’s dropped cutlass lying in a pool of his blood. He snatched it up, crossed to the chest and fell to a knee beside it. Tom righted the chest and scooped handfuls of the precious gems into it. Noticing the small arm of one of the crab creatures, he added it to the chest. Proof the unbelievable story he would tell of what happened aboard the Fortuyn was true.
Shadows of tentacles on the boards turned him around. He swung the sword at the two menacing stalks and sliced through them both. As they wavered frantically spewing their dark sap-blood, Tom closed the lid, tucked the chest under his arm and backed away.
After retrieving the sack, Tom headed for the nearest of the three landing boats lashed to the deck. The route was made more hazardous by the objects sliding and rolling across it from the ship’s steadily increasing tipping, and rolling movements as it was slowly dragged under by the waves. He grabbed the side of the boat to steady himself and dropped the sack and chest inside. He briefly thought of going to collect one of the smaller water barrels the captain had failed to procure, essential for his survival, but the imminent sinking of the ship cautioned him against it until he had the boat ready to launch for a quick getaway.
Tom climbed in the boat and slashed the ties with his knife. As he freed it from its tethers, it slid down the sloping deck and crashed into the side of the sterncastle. Peering through the doorway at the seawater almost filling the stairwell and focusing on the two dots of light below the surface growing closer, raising his cutlass when the creature broke the surface. Thrown off balance when the ship rolled sharply, he stumbled and fell on his back. The cutlass slipped from his hand and clattered to the deck. The creature jumped onto the bow, screeched its battle cry and bared its teeth at him.
Tom grabbed his knife and sliced through the thin rope securing the oars to the seats. With no time to stand, he grabbed one and swung it at the creature when it leaped at him. The blow cracked limbs and sent the creature flying. Tom gripped the side of the boat, pulled himself up and searched for the creature. He spied it a short distance away. Even though it had two broken limbs, and its hard carcass cracked, leaking dark blood, it still dragged itself across the sloping deck, its murderous eyes focused on its aggressor.
A group of three small water barrels straining against their moorings broke free and tumbled down the deck. One rolled to the side and came to a halt against the rail, another struck the rear of Tom’s boat, hurtled away and tossed overboard, the third rolled over the creature, squashing it into a dark stain on the deck, clipped the rear of a cannon and bounced into the air. Tom ducked to avoid the barrel aiming directly for him. It skimmed over his head, struck the sterncastle wall and dropped into the boat. Unable to believe his luck—the water would last for weeks—Tom swiftly fastened the life-sustaining cask to the seat. He gripped the sides when the boat slid and skewed to the side with the cumulative tilting of the ship. It wouldn’t be long now before the pirate vessel slipped beneath the waves. The bow of the small boat jolted against the rail, rode up over it and dropped into the sea with a jolting splash that threw Tom from his seat.
Hauling his battered body upright, Tom sat and looked behind at the ship’s bow rising gracefully skywards. With flames creeping up its decks and smoke and steam from sea
-extinguished fires pouring from the broken shell, for a few moments it hung there as if undecided what to do next. Slowly, with a straining creak of timbers and cracking and splintering of wood, the flaming hulk tipped to the side.
Tom grabbed two oars and frantically rowed his small vessel out of the path of the sinking ship before it rolled on top of him. The main mast, still hung with sails flapping from sagging lines ready to tighten for the pirates’ getaway, splashed into the sea beside his boat. Rocked by the resulting surge, Tom glanced around at the objects bobbing to the surface as the sea swept through the submerged parts of the ship it was never meant to enter, flushing out anything buoyant not lashed down.
Keen to salvage what he could, Tom cut the trim sail free from the wood and collected some lengths of rope. After hauling everything into the boat, he glanced at the masts dipping beneath the surface. The ship was rolling bottom up. Aware his rowing strength would soon desert him, he filled his lungs and dived into the sea. He swam to the topmost yardarm and wrapped his legs around it. Carried deeper by the submerging ship, he sliced at the trailing lines securing the top yardarm in place, shimmied along it and unscrewed the pin from the jointing shackle fixed to the mast. The ship dragged him deeper and deeper, but he was unwilling to give up until his lungs threatened to burst. Objects sunk past him, ropes trailed in the currents like the arms of an octopus reaching for him. As soon as the pin was free, he unlinked the yardarm and pushed it away. As he swam and directed the timber spar away from the sinking vessel, Tom stared in amazement at the sight of the upside-down ship slipping past him on its journey to the seabed incalculable fathoms below.
