Of Seas and Men

"I want to break free, I want to break free, I want to break free from your lies, you're so self-satisfied I don't need you, I've got to break free." 

That song is all that went through his head as he sat in his cell. He bobbed his head to the inaudible song. He hummed along too, and he was sure he looked crazy to the guards patrolling the corridor. He turned out to be right when one of them struck a baton against the bars of his cell. "The hell do you think you're doing, Filthy John?" the guard growled.

"Be I not allowed to 'um a tune in me last days?" John said.

"No. Quiet," the guard said.

"That be a bit much, don't ye think? Grabbin' away a man's music?"

"Oh, shut it. And speak properly. Who talks like that in this day and age?"

"I speak the words me father taught me. Nothin' more, nothin' less."

"Whatever. I heard of what you can do. Shut it. Now."

"Then ye know I 'ave lost me charm, me magic. I can't do what I could no more."

"There's no telling if you could get it back. So hush."

"It would be a blessin' if e'er I was to get that back."

"Yeah, I'd imagine so. Now hush."

"Alright. Be on yer merry way, laddie."

The guard gave him a dirty look, but John ignored it. He had heard plenty of insults against him and his lifestyle. He was a pirate, but he was a proper pirate. Though, he could lead his forefathers' lives no longer. His father and his father before him had all sailed versions of 'The Dragon's Grace', which was a man-o'-war in design.

Recent changes made using traditional warships impractical, and his beloved Dragon's Grace had been captured and seized, and him and all his crew arrested. He needed to escape and escape before he faced the gallows. He had lost his magic on the very night his ship was seized, so he couldn't bust his way out either.

All methods of escape had eluded him, so he sat dejected on his bunk, flipping an imaginary dagger in his hand. He started humming a different tune when he heard a distant boom far off in the prison, followed by the sounds of gunfire and shouts.

John rose and walked to the bars of the cage and stared at the turn of the corridor. Another explosion sounded and the cement beneath him rattled. The shouts neared and the sound of booming footsteps soon made themselves audible. That pair was followed by a dozen others and the shouts neared evermore.

He continued staring and soon enough, a band of ne'er do wells came thundering down the corridor. The main among them was the one he recognized as his former first mate, now donning John's own red coat, which he had flicked off a cargo ship when he had been but a boy of ten. Cutler roared a mighty cry and laughed as he shot the guard that had previously talked with John in the throat.

The guard collapsed in a heap, bleeding out on the green floor. The blood came through the bars of his cell and wet his bare feet. "Where be Cap'n Johnny?" Cutler cried out. "Right here, lad," John said, reaching his hand through the bars. Cutler let out a loud laugh and shook John's hand with a vigour he hadn't seen since he had been jailed.

"Come on lad," Cutler said and John felt liquid for a moment as he slid through the bars of the cell. "I spy yer magic 'asn't gone," John said. "Hah! As if I'd e'er be so weak as to lose me gifts," he said with a grin. "Yer callin' me weak, ye scurvy-ridden sea dog?" John asked. "Not on me life, johnny lad. We be just 'ere to get ye out," he said.

John laughed and clapped Cutler on the arm. "I'm just playin' with ye. Let's be gone, ye filthy scallywag," John said, chuckling. "Let's!" Cutler announced and his crew turned back towards the corridor where they had entered. A singular man stood near the entrance in a scientist's coat and green-tinted glasses. He wore a suit under the coat and his blonde hair was slicked back. In his hand, he held a cleaver wrapped in leopard skin.

"Who're you?" Cutler shouted. The man tilted his head, then disappeared in a flash of dust. There was a sudden squelching sound and John turned to see Cutler's head fall clean off his shoulders. The head thudded to the ground and Cutler's tricorne hat fell off too. His body fell to its knees and joined his head on the floor a second later. 

John turned back and saw the strange man standing by his cell door, cleaver covered in fresh blood. "Anyone else has any questions?" the man asked in a deep, silky voice. No one said a word. The only audible sounds were the chattering of teeth and clenched muttering of prayers. "None?" the man asked. "What the hell are you?" a man from next to John asked, knees knocking against each other.

The man disappeared again and that man's head came sliding off too. John could feel the tension in the room ramp up. "Men!" John barked, "Steady be or face death." His crewmates somehow managed to retain their composure even under the pain of death. "You," the man said, pointing his blood-stained cleaver at John. John felt the fear of death gripping his heart. "You're their leader?" he asked.

John nodded. "Filthy John, if I recall," the man said. "Aye," John said. "People call me Jan. A pleasure," Jan said, bowing. "The pleasure be all mine," John said, "but ye did just kill me first mate and one of me riggin' monkeys." "So I did. I'm a big fan, but I can't let you escape," Jan said and flicked his cleaver to the side.

"I'm leavin' laddie. Ye can't stop that," John said. "Shame," Jan said. Before Jan could make a move, John did something even he didn't know why he was doing. He started whistling. John found that peculiar. His magic had vanished and the instinct had faded. Why was he whistling again?

Jan tilted his head and changed the angle on his cleaver. "What are you doing?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. John didn't answer. He continued whistling, flipping his imaginary dagger as he had countless times before. John came to the end of his little tune a second later and ended it on a shrill note.

"It's back," John said, smiling. "What is?" Jan asked. "Me magic," John said, laughing. "Great. Enjoy your last moments of freedom with your magic. Now get back in," Jan said. "Nay," John said, still laughing. Jan smiled, then disappeared. John didn't feel anything nor did he hear Jan touch down behind him. The only thing he did feel was the neck of Jan as he writhed in his grasp.

Jan's eyes were wide as he struggled against John's steely hold. "How?" Jan choked out. "It be me magic, lad. They don't call me the scourge o' the seven seas fer nothin'." John said. Jan's eyes widened. "There be a special place fer ye in the Fiddler's Green, mate," John said. Jan's mouth opened wide in horror as his eyes started to burn.

They glowed a bright shade of red before turning ashen. The wave of fire spread throughout Jan's body, leaving nothing but ashes in a fashionable suit and a lab coat. "There's the old cap'n back," one of the men said, followed by ravenous cheering by the rest of the crew. 

"Redhook, Sallie, carry the heads with ye. We are grabbin' back the Grace," John announced. Another round of cheers chorused. John led the crew in a prison break, freeing every prisoner from every block they could. "Kill these Dutch arseholes," was the consensus from the prisoners.

They broke through the gates of the prison soon enough and were met with the rifles of the Dutch military. Everyone stopped in their tracks as laser sights appeared on their chests and a couple of helicopters circled overhead. "Surrender now. Go back to your cells!" one of the soldiers with a megaphone cried. "No. We be free men now. Ain't none o' us goin' back there, ye dutch bastards," John cried out.

"Get back in, now." the man again said. "Nay!" John cried out. "5!" the man started counting. "Start running boss," Redhook said, handing John Cutler's head, "I'll take care of it." "Thank ye for yer sacrifice. God be with ye," John said. Redhook nodded and walked forward with his hands up.

"The rest of you surrender. Now!" the soldier announced. "To the shipyard!" John announced, pointing to the prison's shipyard in the distance. The crew and prisoners turned and began to run. "Halt!" the man shouted and John heard the sound of guns firing, but none hit the fleeing prisoners. 

John turned around and saw a sight as magnificent as when he had first seen the sea. A giant sea serpent lay coiled up on the ground, roaring at the sky. Its blood flew as hundreds of bullets pelted its blue scales. The monster turned its head to John and roared again. John got its message and ran behind the others.

While Redhook had the attention of the ground forces, the helicopters still chased after the prisoners. From somewhere among the prisoners, two balls of fire shot towards the sky, striking the engines of the helicopters. Smoke billowed from them as they twirled through the air in a frantic dance to retain control. Two cheers went up as each of the helicopters crashed into the sand.

"We're almost there, laddies," John announced as he sighted The Dragon's Grace among the other ships in the yard. "The Grace be right there!" he announced. A cheer went up. John then turned to his closest comrade, which happened to be his little brother, Jack. "Jackie boy, take another of the warships. Command it, will ye?" he asked. "Right on," Jack said. "Good lad," John said as they reached the shipyard.

He and his crew ran onboard the Grace, making ready for sail. He ran up to the helm of the ship and gripped the familiar wheel in his hands, but not before setting Cutler's head down by the bow of the ship. It felt like home. To his right, he spied his brother commandeering a more modern vessel, a square-rigged frigate. John smiled and turned back to the crew milling on deck.

"Make ready for sail! The wind's just right, me boys. Raise the anchor! Lay aloft and loose topgallants! Clear away the jib! Haul taut! Sheet home to weather! Hoist away the topsail!" John shouted. "Aye aye!" his crew intoned back. John laughed as his crew set to prepare the ship. A couple of minutes later, he felt movement in the ship as it started to move out of the shipyard.

John turned the ship around once it was and oriented it northwards, setting course across the North Sea. "Let go the brails and lee vang! Man the clew outhaul!" John cried as the ship picked up speed. Behind him, he heard the frigate power up and start to follow. John laughed again as his The Dragon's Grace sailed onwards to destiny.

From that day, the tales of Filthy John spread, almost to the point where they became legends. His ship, fleeing from a Dutch port and near-impossible speeds, acquired a new name, The Flying Dutchman. And Filthy John got himself a new name too. He donned the outfit of the previous captain of The Dragon's Grace, along with his name. From then on, Davy Jones sailed The Flying Dutchman on the seas for eternity.