The strong winds brawling with the raging waters beat the sail into submission sending the ship into new, unrecorded directions. The puffy grey children hanging over them were in a fit, screaming thunder and crying rain. Waves pounded the sides of the ship in hopes of bringing back a souvenir. The sea was alive, and she was angry.
"Captain! The sail!" One of the deck hands screamed as the fabric, torn and scarred, flew from the mast in hopes of escape. It danced, a master of aerial ballet performing for its fans below. She twisted and twirled through bumbling fingers, bringing onstage one unsuspecting man. They, together, began their graceful exit and dark decent into the waters below. Her fans searched for there newly engaged friend, hoping a honeymoon in Davy Jones Locker was not his plan. Alas, she had twisted her nimble fingers and wove herself around him and he left without a goodbye.
Below deck, unaware of the danger above, slept two men. Ferdinand, a man of stature and tradition, dressed in the most elegant sleepwear he could afford, was first aroused by the tossing of the ship. His palms met his eyes as he became aware of himself. An open porthole behind him broke the trance of sleep and soaked him from chin to chest. He shivered and, with a cheerfulness usually found in undertakers, exclaimed his thoughts on all things watery.
The ship swayed like an assassin in battle, quick and without warning, in accordance to captain and wheel. "What in the nine hells?" He yelled as he was thrown from the hammock. He adjusted his cap and steadied himself, surveying the mess surrounding him. The cabin was littered with bags, boxes and water. Another wave smacked against the side of the ship, knocking him to the ground.
The other man stepped into the room, screaming into cupped hands, "Lord Ferdinand? Lord Ferdinand are you alright?" His soaking apparel appearing to weigh him down. He stood hunched and wet in the doorway.The boat rocked violently to the left forcing him against the doorway to keep balance.
"No you buffoon, I'm clearly in distress!" The water had risen now and, if Ferdinand had been standing, would completely cover up to his ankles. It devoured his hands and knees now, as he attempted to stand again. He reached up in a desperate attempt to grab a hold of something, anything, to help him straighten himself. "Christof, if you please."
"Oh! Sorry sir, of course, of course." Christof leaned into the room, maintaining his hold on the doorframe, and grabbed to the hand of his royal companion. "It seems we've hit a nasty storm sir!" The outside booming of thunder and crashing of rain made it difficult to speak without yelling, even with such a close distance as they were in.
"Yes, it would appear that way!"
"We need to get to the upper deck."
"We *need* to get off this godforsaken plank and on dry land," Ferdinand shouted as Christof stumbled out of the room and up the stairs. The door to the ships hold suddenly flung open, forced by the buildup of pressure behind it, and threw immense amounts of food, money, clothing and all manner of goods onto the floor around Ferdinand. He followed close behind, barely able to balance, marveling at the treasure.
Comments (0)
See all