The Last Captain

Two men set out to circumnavigate the globe, but all is not well, they aren't alone on the ship

Captain Windsor Krade kept his steps light and deliberate as he searched the abandoned vessel. A large and greatly intricate ship that appeared to be crafted by meticulous hands, a ship designed beyond perfectionism. The exterior hull was simple enough, nothing to set it apart from the endless galleons that did stride the sea, though Krade would find himself completely mesmerized and awestruck as he descended the stairs to the dark under quarters. The sparse light of long burning candles illuminated the awesome scenes depicted on these walls. Massive deities conjured from the furthest reaches of the mind, gladiator manned chariots that seemed to rush furiously into battle right before the Captain's eyes. Entire kingdoms, empires, all carved into the cold-moulded timber. Fantastic mountains and lakes, wild and unfamiliar life everywhere throughout the walls. There was no break in the murals, ever changing scenes of the spectacular extended completely across the hall. Krade reached the bottom of the stairs to see a single door directly before him. It would almost appear that the hall stretches as far as it does for the sole purpose of housing this grand spectacle of art. He turned his head to scan the halls on either side. The carving continued as far as he could see before the halls would dissolve into darkness. In fact, Krade didn't know for sure how long the corridor extended, the already dim candle light only stretched so far. There were two candelabras on the frame at the very bottom of the stairs, and in between was the Captain. He soon would fix his gaze upon the door. The door looked to be crafted from a different timber, much darker in hue than the rest of the ship. After two slow and careful steps forward, Krade extended his slightly trembling hand and ran his fingertips lightly over the wood. It was smooth and polished, the sensation of this deep and slick surface upon the Captain's fingers was pleasant. No handle was to be found on the door, it would begin to open as soon as it was felt.
              
"Aye?" The Captain solemnly called. "Is there anyone present to claim ownership of this vessel?" His voice did not echo far, though it still hung firmly in the dark. With his fingertips still examining the door, Krade looked back down the hall on either side of him once more. The light diminished at the same spot. To himself the Captain thought. These candles are old, they’ve been burning for quite some time. He looked to the floor beneath each fixture and saw no melted wax, just smooth timber akin to the door's. The flame of each candle was still, no fluttering about in the wind. They cast a curious light upon the majestic walls, shadows and highlights of dull orange formed within each depression, even the most miniscule carvings. "Aye?" He called one more time, his voice reserved. Krade let the door swing open after a gentle push, before the ship rocked him off balance. He let out a quick yelp of startled terror. The door opened to reveal nothing but the sea. Turbulent waves crashed before the Captain while his knuckles turned white with an unrelenting grip of the door frame. More waves would soon knock him down onto his back, almost all the way to the stairs he had descended. The door swung shut swiftly and latched in place. The shaken Captain rose to his feet. He once again scanned the hall, before turning around to leave the ship's quarters.
              
"Have you met the sea... Captain?" Before even reaching the second step Krade found himself on the floor again. A powerful voice that emanated everywhere at once responded to him, and startled as he was, was knocked off his feet by pure shock. His heart began pounding with a fury he'd never felt before, and his breathing grew rapid and uncontrollable.
              
"Who's there?" His voice cracked.
              
"Have you met the sea... Captain?" The voice repeated. Krade managed to pull himself up despite his quivering nerves. He shakily felt for his gun, holstered on his right hip, and clutched the handle, but did not draw the weapon.
              
"This is Captain Windsor Krade, and I demand to see the owner of this ship!" Adrenaline was rushing throughout the Captain's body while he searched for the authority he normally carried in his voice.
              
There was a silence.
              
"Why have you boarded this vessel... Captain?"
              
"I need not answer a man that hides! I don't know where you are but if you could, show yourself and your ownership!" The Captain's voice was slowly regaining its former valor.
              
"How do you expect me to do that... Captain?"
              
"Have you a document? I found this ship idle in the sea and simply want to-"
              
"Do you love the sea... Captain?" The voice cut through Krade's, who grew frustrated.
              
"Alright, I don't want to play your games. I don't even care anymore. Not about you or the ship. Are you that small that you must speak out of my sight?" Krade began once again to climb the stairs.
              
"But why have you boarded this vessel... Captain?"
              
"That's of no matter."
              
"Do you seek the riches therein... Captain?" Krade ignored the question and kept up the stairs, upon reaching the door to the main deck, he found it locked. "Do you take from the sea... Captain?" He turned around and finally drew the gun he'd been holding. "Come back downstairs, and open the door... Captain."
              
"You'd see me dead!" Krade scoffed. "Is that your idea of a joke? Leave a door here to simply drop unsuspecting souls into the sea, should they haste?"
              
"It is the only way out... Captain."
              
"Where are you, damn it?!" The fear that previously incapacitated Captain Krade would now bubble into rage. "I'll forget the ship, and whatever perverted operations you conduct here. I wish to leave!"
              
"Open the door... Captain. Please." Krade looked back to the locked door before him then started down the stairs. His pulse continued to rise and his extremities grew cold. It was a mess within the Captain's mind as of now. "There is no man... Captain." Krade's grip on the gun loosened slightly while his palms began to perspire.
              
"I don't understand." His voice lowered as well.
              
"Are you here to take from the sea...? Captain?"
              
"I suppose I would have commandeered this ship if it were empty. But that's not really important anymore, is it?"
              
"You did wish to see me... Is that correct... Captain?"
              
"Please, I'm beginning to feel quite ill. Nothing of the like is important anymore. The ship was still. The sail was packed up. I thought it had been abandoned so I boarded to investigate. Should no soul claim ownership of the vessel, I-" The Captain paused. "I am no thief!" His voice wavered.
              
"Have you met the sea... Captain? Had you been called upon by the sea..? Why are you here... Captain? Here... At sea?" Krade was silent while he searched for an answer. He grew ever more frightened and vulnerable.
              
"For adventure." He responded. "And an obscure longing of the sea. A captain is free, and endless are the waves. I'm sure I am not alone when I say, I feel at ease here. I have met the sea, and I do love the sea."
              
"Yet you take from the sea... Captain."
              
"Please!" The Captain shouted maniacally.
              "This vessel does not exist for man... Captain." All at once the flames of the candles extinguished, and the Captain stood enveloped in darkness, only from beyond the beautiful door did shine a light. "The sea does not exist for man... Captain." The door swung open violently to reveal again the raging waters. "Why do you take from the sea... The sea you claim invites you... The sea where you are apparently at ease..." Krade's emotions rock as vehemently as the ship in the waves. Tears begin to form in his eyes. "Why do you take from me... Captain?" He looked up to the mysterious sea beyond the door with eyes glazed over and red.
              
"What are you saying?" He struggled.
              
"Are you no thief.. Captain?" The voice somehow grew more menacing to the Captain's ears. "You do not seek freedom at sea... Captain. You are a pathetic criminal. And this I know... Captain." Heavier streams of tears flow down the Captain's face.
              
"I'm sorry." He whimpers. "Please, I'm sorry." The furious ocean before the Captain began to take on alien forms, as if it were alive.
              
"You aren't going to die today... Captain. Don't weep for your life." But the Captain, now on his knees, continued sobbing. "Step through the door... Captain."
              
"I-What are you doing?" Krade managed through the sobs.
              
"You have not met the sea... Captain. But if you feel that it calls out to you, that you can make its acquaintance, then step through the door." Krade rose to his feet once again.
              
"No!" He shouted defiantly. "You'll have me dead!" The door slammed shut yet again, and the candles re-ignited.
              
"I told you... Captain. you were not to die today. Perhaps you should, scum that you are. "
              
"I'll say it again, I am no thief! The sea is my home!" There was a pause in all activity. The Captain heard no voice response, and no waves struck the ship's hull. He turned around to see that the door atop the stairs was open again, and he rushed outside frantically. Not bothering to re holster his gun, he ran across the deck to the bridge extending from his own ship. He let up the sail hoping to retreat as quick as humanly possible.
              "No... Captain. You have yet to meet the sea."
_
Miller rose from his bed and stretched his stiffened arms. For a brief moment, he only sat on the bed, pondering. Afterward he rose to his feet to get dressed. There was a small trunk packed with a plethora of neatly folded clothes. Atop the trunk lay the specific outfit Miller had picked out for today. Navy blue cardigan of a soft, velvet like material, white slacks, but a peculiar white, striped pocket lining. A pair of subtle and black boots that didn't call for much attention. Dressed up in his suit, Miller opened the trunk to retrieve a pin which he'd placed on top of the clothing. A meticulously crafted galleon of gold. Miller paced to his desk and watched himself in the mirror while the pinned the ship onto his top, the right breast. A calendar lay open on the desk in front of him. It was open to September, and there was a personal note jotted down on the tenth, the current date.
Around the world!
The note read.
Miller left his lighthouse home and began to the pier. He enjoyed the waterfront. It was its own humble community, everyone was a friend. After walking some feet, the ground turned from stone to wood. He walked to the farthest end of the boardwalk to a boat.
"Captain Krade!" Miller cheerfully exclaimed. In front of the boat stood its captain, Windsor Krade. They wore matching outfits, down to the smallest nuance.
"Miller!" Krade answered. "Are you ready to become a legendary sea fairer?"
"I have been looking forward to it, Captain. I'm nervous but just as well excited. The journey may be arduous, but to step off that boat to this very spot-" Miller was cut short.
"Well we can't be completely certain of that, of course."
"It will be a thrill either way, Captain, just to make it back." Krade stepped forward and placed his hand on Miller's shoulder.
"It will be, mate. Here, follow me to the tavern."
"You don't think it's too early?" Miller asked while looking forward to the morning sun.
"Nope." Krade smirked. "It’s breakfast time isn't it?" The two walked single file down the boardwalk from the ship, then side by side upon the stone street. It was about a two minute jaunt to the waterfront's tavern, the Undertow. Miller opened the door for his captain, who entered with a positively confident stride.
“Morning all.” Krade said as he entered the bar. “Breakfast ales all around, It is a momentous day!” He and Miller walked to the bar to pick up those ales.
“Congratulations Windsor.” Said a bloke from a table. “You’re gonna go down in history as only the 700th man to sail around the world!”
“We may not be the first,” Krade began to answer. “And we might not be the fastest, but I’ll be damned if we aren’t the best looking!” He bellowed boisterously and approached an empty table, slid a map from his pocket, and sprawled it open on the surface. “Don’t you love these big maps? Look here. This is where we are. And from here, due north. Simple enough.” He pointed out a handful of islands that sit along the path. “I think we should reach the first island within a week. After port, we replenish our food supply and press on. We are traveling light.”
“Don’t you want to, not go by the Arctic Circle?” A man asked.
“We’ll be miles away. Well,” The Captain chugged his ale. “I’m sure we all know that I’m an early action man, or just quite antsy, but the time is here to depart. Bartender! Reserve a fine bottle of gin for our return. The finest. We are off!”
Krade walked to the ship alone while Miller returned to the lighthouse to retrieve his truck. Krade had already boarded and Miller was close behind. The Captain grabbed a thick rope tied to the ramp to board, and pulled it up off of the pier. “Gonna be a slow start.” He said, observing the atmosphere while going to raise the sail. Fully deployed it caught a very faint breeze and the ship sluggishly drifted to the sea. “Real slow.”
-
“Nothing’s changed about the ship since the last time you were on it.” Krade said as the two began to tour the vessel. “This ship never does me wrong. Let’s head downstairs to unpack our supplies.” They carried their bags below deck. “Well there they are.” Krade said at the bottom, pointing out the Captain’s quarters at the end of the hall to the left, and Miller’s room opposite. Miller glanced around him to notice some intricately carved wood illustrations.
“Who did this?” He asked while tracing his fingers over the ridges.”
“I’m sorry?” Krade was confused.
“Who d-” Miller turned his head back and saw the wall at his fingers, smooth and basic.”
“What, the wall?”
“It seemed…” Miller trailed off. “It looked like it may have been touched up or smoothed.”
“Nope.” Krade said. “Same old walls.” He and Miller continued back up the stairs after putting their luggage in their respective rooms
The ship had not yet traveled far, but the dock was no longer visible due to the grey clouds across the sky. Nothing in sight anymore besides the horizon itself. The two would officially appear to be helpless, should they ever need it that is. But the ever confident Windsor Krade would never show weakness in even the most dire situations. He and his first (and only) mate slowly shuffled around the deck. Minor winds remained in charge of the sail, and the ship moved forward casually.
“How long do you think it will be to the first island?” Miller asked, but his Captain only shrugged.
“Could be a lot quicker with some better wind. But what is there to do but wait? Time flies or something like that, right?”
“Captain…” Miller started. “There’s a lot of legends about great monsters of the se. Have you ever seen anything like that? I feel silly saying ‘monster’.”
“Don’t.” Krade interrupted. “There are always obscure presences in the sea. It may not be a traditional or beastly thing, but can be all the more horrible.” Miller watched his Captain speak inquisitively. “The creatures mostly, are just any huge, absurdly huge, individual of its species. Giant squids and whales, we don’t call them monsters because they live here with us and coexist with all over life. But imagine a human-like visitor to the planet encountering a blue whale. There’s monsters everywhere.”
“I suppose.” Miller said.
“The sea is home to many different types of presence, the ocean is filled with souls and spirits, so to speak.” Krade chuckled as he said this. “They don’t want to hurt anyone. Not without reason.”
“Unforgiving waters, are they?”
“A man hower, may not seek reason. The most twisted inhabitant of the sea is a man unbound by law, reason, or compassion. A man with no limits to hold back his sadism. The animals think only of sustenance when it eats any other life form. But the nautical man has a mind developed far beyond any animal. He may only wish to hurt you, in the sickest ways imaginable. And there’s no consequence, not even a witness. You may come across a man that seeks sanctuary at sea, with the sole intent of causing pain. If you ask me, that is more horrible than even the most hostile animals.”
-
Midnight had fallen, and Miller sits at his desk before a blank sheet of paper and a pencil in his right hand, adjacent was a mug of beer. He wanted to start a log for the journey, but could only think back to the wood illustrations on the wall. It was so vivid, he thinks to himself. I can remember so much detail… He introduces the paper to the graphite of his pencil to write, but he begins to sketch instead somehow. Without ever lifting the pencil or slowing down at all, Miller’s hand ebbs and flows all over the paper, building abstract scenes of impossible geometry and illusion. Soon the paper was filled to the absolute brim with complex tessellations of ancient crusades and kingdoms.
So much detail…
Miller lifted his head to see the wall in front of him. Once again he was floored by the scene. How could I know this? He thought, lowering his head again to the paper. He pondered it a moment.
“It’s exactly the same.” Miller filled more and more pages with surreal doodles. He couldn’t understand it. He could never draw like this before. The illustrations continued to flow like a waterfall. The more he drew, the more complicate the images became. Lines would turn around to burrow all the way back through the labyrinthian scenes. Even already drawn details unknown and unnoticed made themselves apparent as the sketches continued. It seemed like his hand had a mind of its own, a step ahead of himself. Just as soon as he would make out a man’s likeness, he’d already drawn him dead further along. Spread out before Miller were a dozen pages of the mad sketching, all filled as much as they could ever be without being solid walls of penciled grey.
“Miller!” Krade said while standing outside his first mate’s room. “What have you been doing shut in here all day and night?” Miller shot his Captain a puzzled expression.
“Well I’ve just been drawing. I guess I got caught up in it.” Krade walked over to the desk.
“You drew these?” He said, sounding subtly impressed.
“Yeah… Been practicing.” The Captain studied each piece intensely. His face grew cold and rigid as he examined the drawings. Though utterly still, it would almost seem like the Captain was holding something back with great effort. His face was unfathomable like he was trembling with fear or anger, but showed no physical sign of anything like that. The sight of the drawings paralyzed Captain Krade, just for a moment.
“How do you come up with this stuff?” He asked. Miller didn’t know what to say about these drawings, knowing that it wasn’t him who crafted these scenes.
“It just comes to me, I guess.” The Captain picked out a single page and held it closer to his face to behold.
“That’s some talent, Miller.” He placed the paper back down. That’s uncanny, hr thought to himself. “Well it got a bit late. I just wondered if you had eaten anything.”
“Oh yes, Captain. I’m fine right now.”
“I’m turning in.” Krade said. “Hope for winds.”
“Good night, sir.” Krade inspected the drawings a last time before returning to his quarters. He dressed for bed then lied on his back and thought before closing his eyes to rest.
“How could he know?”
-
Captain Krade woke early the next morning to find the clouds gone, and a bright sun twinkling in jovial little clusters atop the ocean waves. The horizon remained empty, however. Must have kept going a while last night, he thought. He checked his compass. At least we didn’t get off course. Stay North. His matched his sight with the compass hands. Nothing yet to see.
Miller woke later and lifted his head from the desk. He grunted and felt a heavy soreness on the side of his face. He’d fallen asleep at his desk, the drawings scattered about. He downed the rest of the ale that he’d neglected from the night before, now lukewarm and flat. “Perfect.” He said out loud to himself.
Miller met his Captain on the deck beneath the radiant sun. “I don’t know why I was so tired last night.” He said.
“Liquor.” Krade said.
“Did you see anything?” Miller inquired anxiously.
“Not yet. You act like this is your first quest, be patient, mate. And all the way around the world, it will surely be your longest, don’t be surprised to go a long time with no action. You’ll forget about any of it after the first island. Time flies at sea, or does it stand completely still? Ha!.” Krade let out a boisterous laugh, but Miller kept an pathetic expression. “You sure get caught up in your drawings easily.”
“Yeah…” Miller said. “It feels natural.” He drew a telescope from an inner pocket of his cardigan. “I want to watch out from the crow’s nest for a little bit.”
“Of course, mate.” Said Krade. Miller started up the ladder with his telescope still in hand, but he could easily grip the rungs. At the top he stood up to scan the horizon. The wind was stronger up here. He pulled the telescope out to it’s full size and peered through. He slowly turned while studying the view.After a complete 360 he saw nothing, and packed the telescope back into the same pocket from which he’d retrieved it. He looked down to notice Captain Krade observing the sea as well, his hands resting on the ship’s coping.
Miller closed his eyes.
They opened some moments later. Miller’s elbow felt sore from being pressed down onto the hardwood, his head resting lifelessly upon his palm. He looked down to see the Captain in the same position as before. The wind continued as well, cooler at this height. Thin clouds passed overhead, breaking apart and merging together seamlessly in the breeze. The clouds were light and fragile, showing no sign of an approaching storm. Miller thought to himself how much he enjoyed the rain. Not too heavy, but more than a simple mist. He found it to be refreshing. He imagined a mild shower for just a moment, to wash away the sun’s stressful beams, obscured by light storm clouds. Of course he knew rain was not ideal for the voyage, and dismissed the thought. At least, he remarked silently to himself, it is nowhere near the torturous temperature it could reach. A ship alone at sea bathed in the direct rays of sunlight, also reflecting back upon the waves.
Miller’s eyes closed again.
Slowly.
From a dark and thick, purplish fog, approached the Captain.
“You haven’t seen much yet, have you?” He spoke to no one. “I’m sure you must wonder, how many hours have passed, how many are passing. How many days, weeks. Perhaps years. You haven’t been keeping track, have you? Of day and night. Do you know how long it has been, just sitting here in the nest? Can you say, for certain?”
Miller’s eyes opened this time to a dark and star filled sky. He was on his back, stretched out completely in the nest. He pulled his stiff body to a standing position and looked down to the deck. Krade was still there, hands upon the wood, eyes to the endless sea. It would appear that he hadn’t moved an inch, a statuesque figure determined to make something out of the horizon.
Miller started down the ladder to the deck. At the bottom he looked up to the sail, which seemed to be caught in a draft, but only slightly.
“Captain…” He spoke quietly. Krade stepped out of his trance and turned around. His eyes looked heavy from scanning the empty sea, and he did not respond audibly. “I am retiring to my quarters. I think you should too, you must be tired.”
“Oh yes. I will in a moment.” The Captain replied, and turned back around. “I must say goodnight to the sea.” Miller spoke not another word before descending below deck. In his quarters he changed into his bed wear and poured himself a modest glass of rum. He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment while he drank.
“An entire day gone so quickly.” He said to himself, now thinking of his dream from before. As he climbed fully into bed, the thought lingered on.
“An entire… Day.”
_
Captain Krade stood unflinching in his quarters staring at the wall as more complex images carved themselves into the wood. Starting at the floor, an outline that resembled a human form manifested itself. The depressions were filling in with a bloody red shade. The lines began inward now, drawing the features of a full sized, naked man. Immaculate detail presented a rugged man, even the smallest nuances forming into the wall. After the body reached its complete conception, the red color of blood began to drip from the carvings. Thick and true, it was real blood running down the walls and forming a sanguine puddle on the floor before the Captain. He did not make a move, but his pulse began a rapid acceleration when suddenly the figure stepped forward from the wall, leaving it empty behind him once again. It was a man, now standing before the Captain, blood dripping from every angle to the floor. Krade found himself in a state of shock as the nude man spoke to him in an all too familiar voice. A voice the Captain had known just once, a voice he prayed he'd never hear again.
"Have you met the sea... Captain?" Krade couldn't make a sound even if he wanted to. The crimson mask of blood upon the man's face broke apart as his mouth spoke and eyes opened.
"Well here I am." He extended his arms to present his full, monstrous wingspan.
"What is this?" Krade clumsily enunciated.
"Oh Captain, why must you be so stubborn? Can't you see I’m trying to help you? To save you?"
"And why do I need saving?"
"The sea is full of spirits much less merciful than the sea itself. They do not offer forgiveness."
"What the hell are you telling me?" Little by little, the Captain's voice would return to its full valor.
"You have bothered the spirits with your mistreatment of their property. You have stolen from them with not a second thought."
"Stolen? I only scavenge. It's mostly rubbish altogether too."
"Captain... Whatever it is that you have taken, is beside the point. You have committed crimes against the ghosts of the sea."
"This is complete nonsense." Krade said defiantly.
"I can protect you... Captain." The bloody man waved his arm again to reveal a familiar scene for the Captain. "Just step through the door." The door creaked open, beyond it lie the violent sea. "I assure you, you will not be killed or harmed. Are you a religious man... Captain? Wouldn't you do anything for your god?"
"I have no god."
"You might not think so, but you do. You are at my mercy, the mercy of the sea. This is god before you, offering repentance. All you must do is give in to my will. Step through the door... Captain."
"And if I don't, these 'ghosts' will haunt me, is that the idea?"
"Crudely, yes." The blood continued to drip from the man's person. "You wouldn't want to know what these spirits do to people like you, I couldn't let that upon any man."
"I will never call any being my god. I don’t care about your threats."
"I thought you loved the sea... Captain. You would think one would abide to something they love. You claimed it to be your true home."
"And it is." Krade replied.
"Well, you have some unruly neighbors... Captain. If you choose not to take my word, perhaps I can only show you the torment that lies ahead. Just a snippet, not even near the full extent of the ghosts' sadism." Yet again the man waved his arm, but this time he'd vanished. A new setting surrounded the Captain. Dark, sparse, empty. He felt a firm hand grab him by the back of his neck and throw him to the floor. The Captain was appalled at what he landed in, an incomplete circle of severed and bleeding arms. Before him towered a colossus of a man, covered head to toe in a purple robe, a hood shadowing his face. The man was silent as he knelt down to subdue the Captain. From inside his robe he drew a wicked blade, and pressed it onto Krade's shoulder. He tried to scream but had gone mute. The man began to saw through the outer layers of flesh, tissue, and muscle as blood started to flow deeply from the incision. With his other hand, the man forced the Captain down while he cut through his shoulder. After a tortuous moment, the blade met with bone and the man dropped it to the floor. He forced his fingers deep into the wound, holding it open with one hand and digging through the tendons and blood with the other. The man grasped the very top of the bone and began to wriggle it abrasively from the socket. After jamming it loose enough, he slipped his fingers into Krade's joint, squeezed tight and completely yanked the arm from its torso. The bone was scooped out clean with a sudden pop. Whatever bit of fleshy material remained intact ripped apart, blood poured from the separated arm as well as the Captain's empty shoulder socket. In very much a non-elegant fashion, the man repeated with the Captain's other arm. With both removed completely, he placed them at the top of the circle to fill the gap. The Captain seized and jerked, seemingly endless rivers of dark blood being expelled from the wounds. The man stood up to observe the Captain within the circle, then spoke with a menacingly deep timbre.
"It is our turn to take... Captain."
_
        
Miller woke early from a solid stretch of uninterrupted sleep.  He was spry as he got out of bed. No hangover. Compelled by the sudden freshness, he decided to dress. He snatched the same clothes he'd been wearing and put them on. He didn't really feel the need to dip into his truck right now, or even the whole trip. I'm at sea, he thought. Who is here to kind besides the Captain? They aren't dirty to the point of changing yet. After clipping his golden galleon pin, Miller stepped out into the hallway and onto the deck. The Captain slept still.
The dawn sky was a hazy shade of light purple, as were the clouds, if not slightly more saturated in color as the sun rose. He casually patrolled the deck by foot, and the horizon by sight. Still nothing at all to be seen. It was quiet and brisk, the particular chill of morning air. No doubt being surrounded at all angles by water would cool the air after not being hit by the sun for a night. The sail didn't look to have picked up any more momentum from the wind. The ___ still cruised on leisurely. After Miller circled the deck, he took to the ladder up to the nest again. At the top he drew his telescope for a more thorough scanning of the sea and horizon. Looking around and back again, there was not yet a visible shadow or structure.
There came an unexpected squawk from the sky, brighter now. Miller aimed the telescope upward to find the source of the noise. Towards him flew a Gull, gliding through the air without flapping its wings, ominously swooping down to Miller and the nest. The Gull landed on the guard rail right before him. He found it peculiar that it would land here, right next to a man. The Gull stared straight into Miller's eyes for an immense moment. Both would not blink as eternity seemingly passed by. Their stare was locked and perhaps unbreakable. Then came a new feeling like Miller had never felt before. It was eerie, jarring even through silence. The maddening curiosity increased as Miller's gaze seemed almost to zoom in slowly on the Gull's face. Still they did not blink, for the stare was too powerful to resist. As his view of the Gull slowly grew, his mind was scrambled. The modulation reached its end when Miller and the Gull now shared a gaze like they were an inch away from each other. The Gull's eyes were dark. It had some sort of expression, it might seem ridiculous, but Miller believed so. The Gull appeared to him as a stoic and foreboding creature. The stare reached its climax as a perplexingly soft yet powerful voice slithered directly through Miller's ear and into his own mind. The voice was not something to be heard, it was an inaudible statement that sounded like it came from himself, but he know he did not think this voice. He felt ever more nervous with the strange words of another resonating from within.
"I am your messenger of doom."
_
        
Captain Krade jolted from a frantic sleep drenched in cold sweat. He sat up sharply, his breathing hasty and irregular. He felt around his arms and shoulder to happily find them still attached. He got out of bed quickly with no second thought about getting dressed. The Captain circled the perimeter of his quarters a frenetic mess. He looked to the walls and studied them, empty now. No carvings, no blood, no man. Instinctively, he disregarded the dream, last thing he wants is a nightmare getting the best of him. At his desk he poured a shot or two of rum into a wide mouthed glass and downed it without hesitation. He sits back down on his bed trying to calm down.
Another glass of rum.
_
"Do you know that you travel with a cursed man?" The Gull inquired to Miller's psyche.
"C-cursed? The Captain?"
"The vessel you stand upon now sails the sea, everything we know and live. You are alone on... This ship. But you are not alone here at sea. Unseen by mortal eyes, you are bound to another vessel. The Great Galleon of the sea itself. Though you would never know it, this ship is accompanied by the Great Galleon. You have experienced it though. The carvings on the walls, your drawings of unknown origin. It's already crawled into you. You travel alongside the sea and its specters." Miller didn't know how to respond, but tried his best anyway.
"But what do you mean, cursed?"
"Your captain is an ungrateful one. Atop these waves, we are all simple pawns in the sea. The sea is our lifeline and possible demise all at once. But your captain refuses the sanctuary offered by the sea." The Gull still remained silent while communicating with Miller. It had such lifeless eyes. "He's stirred up quite a bit of trouble, and all those taken by the waves aren't fond of him. You're wrapped up in it too. The captain will surely take you with him to the depths."
"I don't understand, what are you saying?"
"I thought it was simple." The Gull said. "The captain is on a downward spiral to hell, and you're right at his side. You mustn't allow that, would you say? Do you wish to live? Your captain is your enemy, Miller. What action must be taken is for you to decide, but you will die out here as long as the captain inhabits this vessel." Miller arched his brow. "In the simplest terms, it's your lives, or only his. The captain will die, that much is true. But you don't have to. You can still make it back home."
"Captain Krade is like a father to me, I couldn't do anything to... Remove him from the equation. I couldn't hurt him, let alone kill him."
"You could, Miller. Very much as he could kill you. You must make a decision."
The door leading below deck swung open like a tempest as Krade rushed to the deck.
"I... I don't know-"
"Miller!" Krade yelled. "What are you saying up there?" The startled first mate jumped at the call of his captain. He looked down, then back to the perch to see the Gull had disappeared, and back to Krade.
"I was just talking to myself sir! Scanning the sea still, no sign of anything yet."
"Well then you can come down here." Krade said. Miller obliged and carefully descended the ladder.
"How long have you been up there?” The Captain asked as Miller planted his feet on the deck.
"I got up early today, before the sun was up. Just trying to find anything out there."
"Nothing huh?" Krade said stiffly.
"Nothing." The Captain's face grew closer to a scowl, slowly abandoning his once true affability.
"Okay, well... It's a new day, go about it, Miller."
"Sure." He said, recalling the mysterious warning of the lone Gull. The bird was a surreal character, and Miller was torn between feelings of dread and contemplation. Without another word, the sailors separated themselves from each other and patrolled the deck on either side. Miller had a new thought in his mind that he didn't want. But as the Gull said, he can still survive. Pacing around, he spoke to himself quietly.
"Am I crazy? No, that Gull, how could that be? It's impossible. But on the other hand, I feel deeply compelled. The message of the Gull was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Perhaps I'm not crazy now, not yet. It would only be logical, just a hallucination after however many days at sea, empty sea. And yet, I felt such a stern truth regarding our conversation. What might it mean for something to be too real? Passing by the general restraints of all that we can see, hear, and touch. Surely I didn't sketch those drawings on my own doing. My first sight of the wall carvings was our very first day out here. I couldn't have been crazy then, just a day at sea. I cannot fathom how long it has been already, how long since then. How far we've gone with no sight of any of the islands, or anything at all." He looked to the sail, still catching calm winds. "If I didn't know any better, I think we'd have reached a complete standstill." Miller paused at the edge of the hull to gaze at the sea and sky. "What is this curse that the Gull had warned me of? Maybe we aren't moving, maybe the bulging sail is just an illusion. An illusion held up as long as the Captain roams this ship..."
Krade found himself paused as well on the opposite end. "That boy seems, rattled." He said to himself. "I wonder... I wonder what he is thinking. It doesn't appear to me as benign. There's something wrong on the ship."
_
        Later that night, the Captain rested but Miller remained on deck pacing nervously. All he could think about was the Gull and its warning.
"No," He whispered. "I can't hurt the Captain." The sky was that deep fog of purple again, filled with thick and darker clouds. "Man, he says. Man is the greatest evil to be found at sea. What would a man do after receiving such information, that he will die. He is not a superstitious man, and chances are he would continue over and over shoving it away. But what if he believed it? What might a man do in attempt to acquire any sort of salvation, even if it were unattainable?" Miller started thinking about the Captain. "If he knew that I can get away from it, he might not take too kindly. A dying man is a desperate man, or an unleashed animal... What am I saying? Of course the Captain cares for me. If he knew he didn't have a chance while I did, wouldn't he encourage me to go on?" He began growing more nervous. "He would, right?"
With his hands in his pants pockets, Miller still roamed the cool night deck. The same wind at the sail. He looked to the sky, no Gull.
"Well of course I would choose to live. Wouldn't anyone understand and support that in the same situation? It's up to me though, I cannot live while the Captain does as well... But I'm uncertain of that idea. I cannot live sharing a vessel with the Captain. Whether or not he must die is something I don't know. Damn it. Where is any of the islands? Where is anything at all? At the moment, continuing on is the only thing we can do. No, I can't kill the Captain. Can I abandon him?" Miller thought but didn't have an immediate answer as he did with regard to killing Captain Krade. "Is the curse sea bound? Can we press on living back on land? I don't know. Absolutely anything. There's nothing certain in this rigmarole of concepts. As the Gull said, I would live on after... Disposing of the Captain. That is the closest idea to certainty. Everything else is too ambiguous, would I live or die? I don't know, and the Gull had not a message for anything else. Of every option, just one was claimed and supported. The most conflicting choice I might ever have to make. Do we die together, or do I unchain myself from the curse?" Miller thought now of the spirits mentioned by the Gull. "Oh Captain, what will happen to you?"
-
Captain Krade awoke to a cold fluid dripping onto his face from the ceiling above him. He opened his eyes and squinted straight. There was a deeply red puddle staining the wood. Suddenly, the puddle dispersed from all angles and rushed to the floor. The Captain, barely awake as he was, thought he dreamed into a false awakening. But as the puddle reformed, the Man of the sea rose from the fluid, now plain to see that it was blood.
"I wonder, Captain, just how much can be taken from you before you throw it in." Krade grabbed his right arm with his left hand.
"Would you look at this! It's still here! You haven't done anything to me, you can't. It's just these damned dreams!"
"Perhaps you are all back together on your vessel, Captain. This one we are in now." The Man turned his back to the Captain. "But you're sticking with your choice aren't you? You choose not to be my disciple?"
"I don't think you can hurt me." Krade said, still holding his arm. "You're not in control anymore, you can't even touch me." The Man scoffed quietly.
"More persuasion, then? I would have hoped you had a change of heart. Well, we should pay a visit to my ship." The Man made the usual motion, and Krade returned with the sea to the Great Galleon, but it was nothing but gruesome terror that he felt. He found himself back in the circle of arms, complete with his own. The Man towered before him and studied the Captain's person. "Hurts, does it not?" Krade still could not speak here. From the darkness behind the Man appeared another robed figure, this one of red. The Man melted into the floorboards, leaving the Captain and the spirit alone. This one was not as hasty as the last. He sluggishly circled the Captain's prone and injured body before lifting him from the circle by the throat, and slamming him into the wall. Krade's skull crashed directly beside a single candle holder on the wall. The spirit pinched the burning candle in between his fingers and held the flame to the Captain's face. Try as he might, Krade cannot cry out from the excruciating pain. The spirit held it there for who knows how long, but the Captain could feel it. The spirit held the candle with an uncompromisable grasp. The hair on the Captain's face has all but burnt away, and his flesh began to bubble and char. The spirit had a hand around Krade's neck like a monstrous constrictor snake, holding him to the wall with his feet off the ground. The spirit then threw him to the ground like a worthless animal, he was crying, but silently. By the ankles the spirit dragged the Captain back the arm circle, and familiarly drew a blade from within his robe, but this was much more sadistic than the last. It was slightly rusty, definitely an old tool, but clearly sharp enough to glide through tendons with no extra force at all. The spirit was at Krade's feet. He flipped him face down in the circle and promptly drove the blade directly into the Captain's calf. The blade was long enough to slice through the skin and muscle to jut out of his shin to the floor.  The Captain's blood did externally flow once again. The spirit recklessly removed the blade from it's flesh cocoon and retrieved a new candle from the wall. He knelt down and held it on it's side directly above the wound, dripping freshly melted candle wax onto the anatomy of the Captain's torn leg. The wax dripped onto the exposed and bloody bone, it hardened quickly to join all the tissues. The Captain's tears and blood continued to soak into the wood that his face rested on. The spirit paused and stood up for a moment before flipping Krade face up. With both massive hands, he gripped the knee area of the leg and began to force the lower portion of the leg to meet the upper half. The leg shattered finally, and created an absurd angle. The flesh tore at the knee while the spirit simply continued to treat Krade's leg like a stuck lever until completely detaching from the bones and ligaments that held the leg together. The Captain lie in the circle, mutilated even further, blood spewing from the knee, crying.
"Let's take it slower, eh, Captain?" Said the Sea.
_
It was late by the time Miller retired to his quarters. But in his room he continued the manic thought process with the fear of the Captain's own increasing in himself. "I can't sleep." He said, sitting outstretched on his bed against his pillows. "What if the Captain comes in here while I'm asleep? What if he's only waiting?" He sighed. "Waiting for what?" He looked to his desk and approached it. He sprawled his drawings about before him, leaving a new blank sheet as his focus. "What else is there?" He thought to himself while picking up his pencil to sketch. It began again, he was out of control of his hand, but it sailed all over the paper, not even leaving it once. It appeared to him that a man was being drawn, all the while the lines replicated themselves on the wall behind Miller, unbeknownst to himself. "Who is this?" The illustration came to a halt and he heard a moist squish behind him. He jumped  in fear and turned around to see the Captain's likeness step forward from the wall. Miller hopped to his feet and anxiously recoiled in terror, gripping the wall behind him and inching away from the bloody Captain.
"You still haven't an idea how long it's been, do you?" Spoke the distorted figure of Captain Krade, which now slowly crept forward to Miller. "Of course not. Doesn't that frustrate you?" Miller was shaking and silent. "You do remember your route, don't you? It was simple, head due north. After so many miles you will reach your first port. But you haven't, you haven't even seen anything. I can tell you that the ship hasn't strayed off course even by a single degree. But where is the island?"
"You're not Captain Krade, I know it."
"Maybe I'm not, but I am your captain all the same. I am everyone's captain. The man you travel with is not fit to be a captain."
"Why do you say that? He is a legend!"
"No, he is not fit." The line of sight of them both met and locked. "You however are young and promising. I would hate to see you swept away just because you are affiliated with that man. All the time you know would slip away, forever binding you to the sea, fading into eternal obscurity. " Miller likened this to what the Gull had said before.
"And I'm supposed to erase him, aren't I?"
"That's up to you." Miller thought about his motives and now had a strict plea from two sources. Without a parting word, the bloody pseudo Captain melted into the floor.
-
Another dreadful and hellish sleep for the Captain, but this time he didn’t jerk awake. His eyes simply opened ghoulishly, revealing the glossy white. The cold sweat remained, as well as the rapid pulse. He was fatigued, physically and mentally. Once again he decided against getting dressed after rising from bed, instead he just stood solemnly in his bed wear, eyes to the ground.
"Captain!" Miller cried from the deck. Krade had been woefully trudging around his room when he heard the call and followed it upstairs and outside. The sun was bright and struck him straight on. As he approached his mate, he squinted and spoke in a dull tone.
"Yes, Miller, what is it?"
"Come here." Miller motioned for the Captain to come closer. "Here, can you see it?" Miller handed the telescope to his Captain, who peered through. "Straight ahead."
"Oh yes... I do see it." Krade said, noticeably intrigued. In the distance a blurry shadow of a structure had come into view.
"I don't know what it is, but we are coming up on something. It's still pretty much just a dark blotch on the horizon so I imagine it's still a good ways ahead."
"Yes." The word slithered out of Krade's mouth slyly like a hunting snake.
"What do you think?" Miller asked. "One of the islands?"
"I don't know." His Captain replied. He stepped to face Miller and handed back his telescope. "But we can't afford to lose sight of it. Hopefully it is, though. I'd like to port for a bit. I know it can't have been too long thus far, but I haven't any idea or way to find out. And not seeing anything this whole time... I think I just need a rest." He hesitated. "A rest from the sea."
"I feel the same." Miller said. Krade turned around and walked away from his mate.
"I need you to stay here, Miller. Right here, the very front of the ship. Whatever you do, do not let that shadow out of your sight. Keep it in the very center of that telescope, and your own sight, and don't even dream of looking away!" The Captain's voice grew firm. "Hell, I'd forbid you to blink if it were possible. You are not to look away from that structure, and not to leave this spot!"
"But Sir," Miller took a compass from his pocket. "It's only due North. If we just stay on course-" Krade snapped back.
"Miller... You are my first mate. I am your captain. Think of this as a job. I am your superior and you are to follow my orders." The Captain found himself very close to Miller's face. His breathing and entire thought process erratic, various nerves on his face twitching. "I don't give a damn if we've been at sea for three months or just three days! I feel like an entire lifetime has passed since walking upon any surface besides these floorboards. Now we have our chance. You don't even have the slightest idea how I'd feel if you ruined this for me. This is your discovery, and keeping it in view is your new task. Is that not simple? If somehow we lose it, it's on your hyde."
"Captain! You can't expect me to stand still here until we reach it." Krade stepped back.
"Why not? Do you have other plans?" Krade paused like the question wasn't hypothetical. Miller however hadn't a response. "Look at your Captain, Miller. Your Captain is a tense man. And if we miss this, your Captain will not be a very... Happy man." Krade's face trembled and his breathing strained.
"Captain! I'm telling you, we won't lose it!" Krade now fingered the gun that had been at his side during the whole trip but ultimately neglected. He drew it and shoved aside Miller's statement. His eyes bulged open and he spoke in an unsettling voice, as if feigning a cheerful demeanor.
"Miller... You have been given orders. You are to stay there watching the shadow." He took a few brooding steps forward to Miller, carelessly swinging his gun. "And that isn't a suggestion." Miller held onto an appalled expression, and the Captain turned around. "Now if you don't mind, your Captain would like to rest longer." Down the stairs. Miller looked to the shadow on the horizon. From the sky above flew the Gull to meet with him again.
"The curse has begun."
"What is happening?" Miller asked.
"I don't want to alarm you, or make you lose focus of your task."
"Am I being affected?"
"Yes." The Gull growled. "And it is in action all around you, operating unseen. The water rises and the sun burns. Here at sea it is unnoticeable, we are wrapped in a cloud of ignorance, but months pass in what you'd believe to be a mere hour. You surely remember last night, yes?"
"Of course." Miller answered. "Clear as day."
"Five years have passed since you'd fallen asleep." Miller would have froze if he hadn't already upon the Gull's arrival.
"Five... Years? We've traveled for five years... Overnight?"
"Yes, five years since the conception of the curse."
"But, how?"
"Believe me when I say, this is the sea's power."
"What about you?"
"At sea, I as well am engulfed in the veil of time. You and I experience time the same while the rest of the world speeds on. The sea is strange, like a blind spot of Father Time."
"How far have we gone then? All the while seeing nothing until now."
"You might never know." The Gull said. "You might be constantly passing over different landmarks of the world you know, the land where you dwell. And so is the curse, the endless flood."
"You can't be telling me," Miller started. "Flood? Five years of flooding?"
"And more to come, for eternity, as long as the cursed one sails the sea. " Miller looked  back to the horizon anxiously.
"If it's all flooded, what are we approaching now?"
"Not all just yet. Though I can't say what it is that beckons your vessel."
"That's just fantastic." Miller said.
"But I can say that it is not too late for you. As long as there is solid ground on which to stand left anywhere in the world, then it is not too late. Perhaps he put it in a very uncivilized dialogue, but maybe you'd do right to heed your Captain's orders." The Gull spread its wings and shot into the sky. Miller watched until the bird was no longer visible, then looked straight back to the shadow.
_
Rest eluded Captain Krade. The simple thoughts he always had became incoherent tangles of paranoia and anxiety. Nothing being said in his mind made any sense. Instead, his train of thought weaved back and forth through long tangents of nonsense. He sat on his bed, still not dressed, with his fingers shaking and twisting like a fish out of water. He spoke out loud.
"Well where are ya, my man?" Calling to the bloody embodiment of the sea. "Got anymore? I would just love to see you and your little friends again. Ha! I said ha! A joke isn't it? You must be living it up over there on your imaginary ship, sharing laugh after laugh at my expense. It is funny, isn't it? I say ha ha! Again! Oh it is so funny. I'll get you good some day, we can share laughs of our own! How about a drink? I still love it, the sea. I love you, I guess. That's the bottom line. Yes, this, here, the uh, sea! Like a true home. But no furniture, just water! Ha! That's my idea of a party! Bring on more I say!" The Captain rose from the bed and started to pace. He continued his rapid fire rambling, barely sounding at all like the Captain we once knew, barely like a man entirely. This was not a man now. "How many color coordinated spirits you got? Mr. Purple and Mr. Red were fun but I just can't wait to meet, say, Mr. Blue! Or Green!" He walked to the wall and pressed his forehead upon. "Where are ya?!" He shouted. "Come on! Take my other leg! Drain the blood from my body! Butcher my entire f*****g person! I need it!"
"Captain." A voice spoke from behind. Krade whipped around quicker than a heartbeat.
"Miller?" He said. In the corner of his room, Krade saw the likeness of his mate. They did not make eye contact. "Oh... Miller..." The Captain sounded deranged. "What the hell are you doing in here? And have you in fact left your post? Can't follow orders, boy?" He began walking to the corner.
"It would seem, Captain." The spectral Miller stared forward, his hands clasped together at his groin.
"Have you no respect for your Captain? You have abandoned the horizon. Damn it, boy! An unhappy man, Miller, an unhappy man. What might an unhappy man do in a time like this?" He walked until they were about three feet from each other.
"That is an interesting question, Captain. How might we find the answer?"
"I'm not going to leave you here long enough, you cretin! You don't deserve to be first mate to a legendary captain such as myself."
"I'm quite sorry, Captain."
"Save it for the eels." Krade reached for his gun, but just as he grasped the handle came a hard and sharp blow to his sternum, knocking him to his knees, struck by a dull blade.
"What kind of man would put someone's life in danger, just because they're too proud? Your first mate, the closest soul to your own." The blow knocked the Captain's wind out and he could not properly speak, on his knees quivering in pain and fury. Unbeknownst to him, Miller remained on the deck, in the same spot he was ordered. Undoubtedly another spirit. The two finally looked in each other's eyes, and the spirit flipped around the knife in his hand. With immaculate precision and agility, the spirit stabbed Krade through his left cheek. He cried out and visible within his open mouth the blade dripped with blood. Rather than sliding it back through the entry wound, the spirit forced the sharp end of the blade to slice a gap on his face. The skin of his cheek now dangled as his blood flowed like a river. Tears began to form in the Captain's eyes. He spoke, but distorted from the surgery, and with a pain greater than he'd ever known.
"Are you going to kill me?" The words were slurred and desperate. A pocket of blood sloshed in his mouth.
"I don't know, Captain." The spirit walked past the groveling Captain and he was alone in his quarters. He crawled on his knees to fetch his bottle of rum. He tried to drink but the booze simply spilled out from the gaping cheek. Frustrated, the Captain threw the bottle against the wall, shattering it. He held the flap of skin back in place in an effort to stop the bleeding.
"A dead man. He is a dead man!" He roared. Then came a call once again from the deck, as if by premonition.
"Captain! Come quick!" Krade struggled to his feet and retrieved his gun, still holding his flesh.
"A dead man. A dead man. A dead man. A dead man." He repeated the words while he limped to the stairs. "A dead man." At that point, adrenaline had taken over the Captain, and he climbed the stairs swiftly. "A dead man!" "Just before the top step, the door to the deck swung open and Miller was seen calling to Krade.
"Captain! We- oh my god! What's happened to you Are you okay?" Krade lifted the gun directly to Miller's forehead.
"You ungrateful b*****d!"
"Captain, please!" A terrified Miller whined. "It's a lighthouse, Captain. A lighthouse!" Krade glanced past the man in front of him to the sea. The very top of a lighthouse was before the ship. It appeared to be old and quite weathered, once vibrant paint now chipped away. Krade relinquished his gun and approached the front of the ship, noticeably injured. Miller, shaken, watched,
"What is this, Miller?" His words still sloppy. He let go of his cheek and it dropped from his face. "What the f**k is this?!" He shouted. "What's happened here?"
"Sir I don't know, I-I..." Miller trailed off after remembering the Gull's latest warning. An endless flood, he thought. But he kept this to himself. "Captain! You're severely hurt! What's happened?" The Captain was demented as he approached his mate.
"Oh I'm fine, Miller. Really, I am. You can do your worst but I am still fine."
"What?" Miller was puzzled, unaware of his violent doppelganger from below deck.
"Does this bother you, Miller? Do I disgust you? Did you botch your stab job?"
"Sir I don't know-"
"Don't play with me, boy." Krade reached and grabbed a small knife from Miller's belt and snatched it fluidly. He pinched the severed section of his cheek with one hand and held it firmly. With the knife he started cutting through the opposite end. By now blood had stained the ship all around, a deep red, but more gushed from the Captain's face. He cut all the way through, hacking off the entire cheek, and dropped it to the floor. Miller watched in terror as the slab of skin splashed onto the bloody wood at his feet. "Is that better? What do you want from me?"
"Sir, please-" Krade interrupted once again, grabbing Miller by the throat.
"Sir, please, oh dear lord please." He mocked with a shaky voiced interweaved with fractured laughing. "Please what, Miller? What is it?" Miller tried to speak but couldn't summon the syllables past his throat as it collapsed in the Captain's vice like grasp. "What's the matter? Trouble breathing? You'd love so much to finish the job you started, wouldn't you? All the recognition for you. Oh but Miller, where would you be without me? What would you have had I not given it all? You're a worthless dog, you would be nothing without me. Kill me and it would be known, the great Windsor Krade, ultimate Captain of this ship! You, on the other hand, would not be missed or mourned. You are nobody, Miller. Not without me." The first mate was reminded of the warnings he'd received, the knowledge of the curse. It was time.
"You need me all the same, Captain. You always have. But alas, it doesn't matter anymore." Miller lifted a mighty knee into Krade's gut, freeing himself from the chokehold. With the knife on the floor, Miller slashed the Captain's back vertically and tore off a length of material from his shirt. Krade was on all fours clutching his gut as his first mate unleashed a horrid stomp to his Captain's temple. Withe the fabric, Miller tightly tied the Captain's hands behind his back. On the floor, the helpless Captain looked to Miller with his eyes glazed over. Behind him was the Sea, seemingly laughing at the Captain's pain. He spoke to Krade only.
"So the Sea is your home... Captain? Then the Sea is where you shall remain, alone until you are swallowed by the waves." Miller deployed the bridge and connected it to the railing of the lighthouse with dexterity. The Captain became limp while his mate carried him down the ramp. Miller threw him to the floor.
"Am I nothing without you, Captain? That's something I'll have to learn on my own. But whatever action I may take, the fact remains, that you are a dead man." Miller quickly ran up the ramp and brought it back in.
"No!" Krade screamed. "Damn it Miller!" He let up the sail again to catch a breeze before cruising away from the lighthouse.
"I'll send you a postcard! I'll tell you all about the land, because there isn't any left for you!" Miller called back to the whimpering Captain.
"No! No!" Krade shouted with increasing sustain, his energy slipping away. "Miller you son of a b***h! You can't leave me here!" He was now at the point where heavy sobbing overcame rage, and his words cracked as they dripped out of his mouth like the blood from his cheek. "You can't leave me here... Alone... Miller, please... I'm sorry." He'd been trying to rip his hands free and finally did, and stood up. The ship was long gone. "Please, won't you please return? This isn't what I wanted. Please Miller... Your Captain... He is a sorry man now. I'm sorry, Miller." His voice decreased in volume as he knew that his first mate wasn't going to return. Sullenly, Krade opened the hatch on the floor to a spiral staircase and followed it down. The further beneath the water, the more murky and wet the walls became. There was water dripping from splits and cracks all over the damp room. At the bottom of the stairs was another door. Water had been gathering up to here, now at the Captain's ankles. He opened the door to find a room, a home. Waterlogged furniture and damaged odds and ends were strewn about the floor. Krade made his way to a desk where he found a calendar. "You did it, Miller." The great Windsor Krade said aloud as a single tear fell from his eye onto a note that had been jotted on the calendar.

Around the world!

"You're going to make a great captain."