Captain Trowley's Treasure

”Brace for impact!” Captain Trowley shouts at the top of his lungs. The giant, grey mass emerges from the water with a vile hissssss. It looks like a cross between a snake and a dragon if either had spent the last century away from sunlight.

       The small wooden ship rocks as the creature opens its mouth to spew jets of water at us from the back of its throat. A few crewmates are knocked off of the deck and they don’t emerge back to the surface.

       “Man the cannons,” Captain Trowley growls at us. Those of us lucky enough to still be on deck after the serpent’s latest attack quickly run to the soaking massive guns and load them with expert quickness. “Wait for her to emerge again and we fire. One more hit and she’s done for.”

       Trowley has said this six times now during the battle against the sea creature, she is bleeding profusely from where she’s been hit. The water has a green tint to it from the monstrosity’s blood mixing with it. Morale is low, we do not think we will win.

       The water bubbles greatly. Massive waves make our boat bob around like a cork in a bathtub, we hold strong still.

       “Fire!” Our skipper shouts as soon as the serpent’s head appears. I stop my men last minute. I know what I need to do to get rid of her. “Barlow! Shoot the fuckin’ thing!” Trowley shouts. The firing squad has managed to land a few hits as more sickly green blood flows from a few spots where it wasn’t before, but she is still strong. “Barlow, fire!” howls again. I scream at the two men with me to wait for my signal.

       The monster opens her mouth for another barrage of water. “Shoot now! Quick,” I scream at the men with me. They light the cannon, it fires with the sound of an explosion as a quick orange light blinds us for half a second. I hear an ungodly scream. I look up.

       My men have done well. They hit right where I needed them too. The sea serpent lets out another blood, curling howl as it thrashes around the surface of the sea. Blood is leaking out of its mouth in gallons, she is dying. The cannonball hit her right in the back of the throat. She disappears under the murky surface of the water with a splash. We never see her again.

       “Alright,” Captain Trowley announced when it is clear that those of us remaining are the victors, “Good work, it is smooth sailing from there. First Mate Barlow, next time fire when I tell you or you will be the first one overboard in the next fight.”

       I see red with rage, but I hold my words in. This is the life I have chosen. A pirate. A chance to see other lands and find the riches of generations past. Swallowing my words of defense for Trowley’s miss of my orders killing the serpent is like trying to swallow melted silver.

       Trolwey pulls out his pistol, cocks the hammer, and aims in my general direction, “I see you have something you want to tell me, go on with it,” He says vilely.

       “No, skipper,” I say in my calmest, “My apologies for not following your order. Won’t happen again.”

       Our shameful captain nods his head as he slowly releases the hammer down, “That’s what I thought,” he growls.

 ----

       Three days go by when he spots the island. It looks more like a projection from another world than an actual mass of land in the middle of this ocean. The green, foggy landscape offset from the purple sky above it gives the mass of trees and sand the quality of looking at an image from a dream, rather than reality. I don’t want to get any closer to this island.

       Captain Trowley jumps and dances on the deck like a child. He screams “We are almost there, lads! Land-ho! Land-ho! LAND-HO!” My head urges me to kill the captain and take the crew back home. A storm brew in the sky as we drift closer.

       Captain Trowley was a likable person nine months ago when I joined his band of pirates. He spoke of a mystical treasure left by the “Olde Ones” the ancient gods of another realm. According to his story, whomever found this treasure would join the gods at their table and forever live as a deity. Quickly, however, excitement turned to obsession, and obsession turned to outright devotion. For the last five months, we have been drifting at sea, fighting creatures, and ghastly ships that I only thought of as tall tales not long ago. We went from a crew of about two hundred men and steadily decreased to forty. Trowley would not listen to us, always assuring his men that greatness waited for the crew upon our arrival to this island that spoke to him in dreams. Thunder crashes, we are in the storm.

       It is not a storm like what one would picture. Well, that’s not true. There is a torrential downpour as lightning charges the sky accompanied by a symphony of thunder, but the storm is talking. It taunts us.

       “Turn around now,” The storm whispers in my ear, “You know you want to kill him and you know how. Your parents have died since you left. Your sister now has to work at the bordello in the slum part of town to feed herself. She has caught something recently and is swiftly deteriorating.”

       I try to shut the voices out of my head, focusing on watching the crew.

       “Kill them all, kill that captain. Jump overboard and join your family, your sister is not far along.”

       Four men who aren’t as strong-willed jump off the sides of the ship at different points, trying to shut the voice of the storm out. Lightning hits the mainmast as the wood ignites in a terrific flame, the sentry man screams as he is cooked alive.

       Snap! Snap! Snap!

        The sound of sidearms being fired. Another three men killed. Two by their own hand, the third being the man on the wheel. Captain Trowley has shot him for trying to turn our ship around. The skipper mans the wheel himself. I run up to the ship’s steering and shout, “Captain, all due respect, we need to turn around!”

       “Not when we are this close! Now go back to the lower deck!”

       “Captain, we cannot keep this up! We are all about to die!”

       Snap!

       A flash of orange right as the dark grey sky illuminates blue with lightning. Before even knowing what has happened, my hands are cupped over a hole leaking dark red on the left side of my torso. It wasn’t there a second ago.

       I look down then back up. The last thing I see is Captain Trowley looking over me with malice on his face. His eyes are darker than the water, which is black under this vile sky. I feel my body hit the deck and a final word from the storm.

       “Oh, how weak you really are.”

       Something hits me on the head. It isn’t hard, but enough to wake me up. My side hurts from my ribs to my hip. A flash of white is what I see when my eyes first open. Next, is a pool of blood. My own blood.

       The bullet ripped through my side, it didn’t feel like the chunk of lead hit anything important.

 ----

       “Get up, you lazy bastard,” a voice growls in my ear. I don’t need to look up to know whose voice that is. Why could I have not just died?

       “Get the fuck up, you are the only living crew mate left,” Trowley speaks rougher, jamming his foot into the wound he made last night. The storm has seceded, I also notice that we have hit land.

       One of Trowley’s meaty hands, covered in scars, pulls me up by the collar. A jet of pain flashes through my body and I throw up a mixture of bile and blood. I’m pulled off the boat roughly, Trowley does not even notice when I vomit again on his dirty, green sleeve.

       I look around once we are on the beach. It is not like anything that I have even read in books. The sky is hazy purple with odd flashes happened from time to time over the direct middle of the island. The sand is midnight black with the tress- that I once thought a healthy green- all dead and rotted. A glowing green mist hangs above the black ground. We walk toward the center.

       The pair of us approach a massive pyramid structure. The treasure rests at the top of this pyramid Trowley tells me. I am so tempted to make a go for his pistol and pull the trigger into his temple. It would be so easy. I feel like a marionette who has suddenly become aware of his existence, the strings of the puppet master are being pulled so hard to kill him, however.

       The two of us slowly climb the massive structure towards Trowley’s damned special treasure. The air gets lighter with each step, and something else happens. It’s almost as if my brain degrades as my wounds heal. Trading one health for the other. Voices whisper in the wind, but it is too low to hear what they are saying. I get a bad feeling from it anyway.

       We reach the pinnacle. The treasure sits before our eyes. Glowing a heavenly shade of white and gold through the cracks of a decrepit box, Trowley’s obsession beckons.

       “A blood sacrifice, yes,” Trowley says to an invisible and unheard presence. His face and tone take on the quality of a school boy who is being chastised by the head master. He quickly reaches for the pistol in his belt.

       I react just in time, grabbing his armed wrist and pushing up, he pulls the trigger. The ball of lead rips through the talking wind and lands in the trunk of a dead tree.

       “You bastard!” Trowley growls. He tosses his pistol away and goes for a dagger that is stapped to his calf. A stinging of sharpened metal opens up my right forearm as I take a defensive stance. I have too much to worry about than the pain at the moment.

       “I need this, Barlow,” Trowley screams.

       “You have killed almost two hundred innocent men for this stupid treasure,” I retaliate. He attacks again, running at me with the dagger blade sticking straight out, aimed at my heart.

       I step out of the way and stick my foot out. Trowley connects with it and falls to the ground, his head hits the box of everlasting glory. He steps back up quickly and lunges toward me. I squat down and push up right as his body hits my hands, Trowley flips over me, a circus act summersault that climaxes with him tumbling down the massive steps of the pyramid. He is head before he reaches the black sand of the ground. I fall to my knees.

       His dagger was somehow stuck in between my bottom two ribs on my right side. I force the blade out and drop it to the ground. It makes the sound of metal hitting rock as drops of blood drip off of it. I am on my back now.

       Captain Trowley has died from greed and now I am going to die from ignorance. A heroic effort with no reward. Only dying alone at the top of this pyramid as my blood leaks down the stone stairs. Will anyone ever find my body? Another traveler who has heard the call of this treasure one hundred years from now? A thousand?

       I close my eyes slowly. It hurts too much to breathe but my body begs for a breath, my lungs screaming for oxygen. A white and gold light shines on the other side of my closed eyelids. Loving arms wrap around my body and carry me like a child. I am dropped into what feels like a tattered box filled with pure bliss.