Chapter 25

  Jonathon stood in bliss, his eyes closed, the wind and mist of the sea caressing his face as he hung out from the ratline. This truly was one of his favorite feelings.

  As he appreciated the feel of the wind and sea on his face, he thought about how happy he felt in this moment. For the past week and a half even. Really, ever since Cass had told him she was carrying his child. The Crimson Tide had still not come to visit her, making them both increasingly sure that she carried his child and causing Jonathon’s excitement to grow with each passing day. His dreams had even shifted. Now he was commanding The Spectre with Cassandra and their child next to him. More than anything, he desired that reality. Now more than ever before, he needed to obtain The Spectre. Sure, he could potentially rely on Cassandra’s familial wealth, but what kind of man would he be to not provide for her? Besides, who’s to say they’d ever accept either of them again? No, The Spectre was the only way to secure that future. Their future. He’d give his very soul to make it happen.

  “Sirens!” came the cry from the crow’s nest. Jonathon’s eyes snapped open, and he began searching frantically for what the lookout had seen.

  Sirens? Really? They were just myths, weren’t they? Of course, then again, so were krakens.

  Their time in uncharted waters had gone on long enough to begin causing the men a sense of unease. Jonathon had just about convinced himself that the lookout’s own fear of the unknown was likely conjuring these visions when he saw them! Along the edge of the ship, like dolphins in the open sea, there were creatures swimming and jumping along with them. Jonathon stared in wonder as he laid his eyes on the third myth of their journey. They were surrounded by sirens. He looked around as some swam and jumped along the edges of the ship, while others sat off further away, giggling and waving at the crew.

  They were beautiful. Their hair seemed to flow through the air as they jumped despite being wet. Their faces looked as though the gods themselves had used them as the base model for beauty. Their bodies were similarly gifted as Jonathon cursed the way that the seashells they had stuck so firmly to their breasts, and at the strategic placement of the hair of those who did not seem to wear any shells. The lower half of their body was something out of legend. It was scaly, like a fish, that tapered down to two fins at the end. Their scales shined with an iridescent quality that was far more beautiful than any gem or precious metal Jonathon had ever laid eyes on. An idea occurred to Jonathon. He hopped down from the railing and ran to his navigator.

  “Beckett,” he said excitedly as he ran up to the man, “can we slow our speed a bit? I want to attempt to speak with them!”

  Beckett wore a worried expression. “Aye, Cap’n, as ye wish. Be careful though, sir. I fear the presence of such mythical creatures may bode ill for our future days…and the sky seems to agree with me.”

  “Alright, alright,” Jonathon said dismissively. “Don’t worry, I won’t invite them aboard the ship.”

  Beckett grunted, gave the order, and the sails were pulled to half-sail. Jonathon rejoined the group of his men who were still hooting and whistling at the creatures in the water. He called out and said, “Hello, my name is Jonathon Harding. Do any of you speak our tongue?”

  There was silence as the men all stopped their commotion to hear the response. The sirens looked at each other and then back at the ship. They opened their mouths and began to sing. The sound was one of the most beautiful things Jonathon had ever heard in his entire life. The melody, the pitch, the rhythm–every aspect of the song–harmonized into the perfect tune. Suddenly, Jonathon heard,

  “We may not speak as you command,

  But yes, we know and understand.”

  Jonathon and every man on board jumped at this communication. The song they sang had no words, and yet, they all heard the same message. He smiled widely at this as he said, “That’s amazing! How are you able to do that?”

  “Our voices weave a wordless song,

  An ancient language, deep and strong.”

  This is so cool, he thought to himself. As his excitement continued to build, he said, “It’s so nice to meet you all. We are heading for a ship known as The Spectre. Tell me, have you heard of it?”

  A number of the sirens gasped and ducked beneath the water at the mention of The Spectre. The song, however, continued, shifting slightly in its tune,

  “The Spectre sails where shadows reign,

  A cursed path of endless pain.

  It haunts the seas where chaos brews,

  A swirling storm no soul should choose.

  The maelstrom twists with wicked force,

  It warps our song and skews our course.

  Turn back now, steer far away,

  Or face the curse that none can sway.”

  It seemed superstition existed everywhere, he thought to himself. Despite the message behind their words, Jonathon couldn’t help but be excited. These creatures of myth just confirmed the presence of The Spectre. Any shadow of doubt that existed prior to this moment was gone, erased in the euphoria of this moment. He found himself unintentionally smiling. “Thank you greatly for your warning. However, I’m afraid our journey requires us to travel into this maelstrom and seek out the ship. Is there anything else you can tell us?”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “We hear your words, though danger looms,

  The Spectre lies in shadowed glooms.

  Outside the storm where sea winds roar,

  Dragons guard the haunted door.

  They feast on wrecks and souls that stray,

  Lured into the tempest’s sway.

  Heed our words and turn around,

  For in those depths, no hope is found.”

  As if he’d turn around at this point. “Is there any way to avoid these sea dragons?” he asked. More sirens disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

  “The maelstrom’s wide, the dragons few,

  A path may yet be made for you.

  A careful course, a steady hand,

  Might help you pass, but understand—

  Their watchful gaze is sharp and keen,

  Few who try can pass unseen.”

  So ‘be careful’ basically, Jonathon thought to himself, not super helpful. Jonathon could sense the fear growing in his crew as they heard each subsequent response. I’d better cut this short, he thought to himself. “Thank you for your words of caution. Still, I fear we must sail into the storm. Do you know how far away it is?”

  “The storm you seek lies not too far,

  Two days’ sail if winds do spar.

  To the northwest, it lies in wait,

  A fearsome force that seals your fate.

  The Jaws of Hell churn fierce and wide,

  With constant winds and ruthless tides.

  The waves will rise, the skies will weep,

  As into chaos, you shall creep.

  So take great care and heed our call,

  For what you face may doom you all.”

  With these parting words, the remaining sirens dipped underneath the waves, and an uncomfortable fear hung over the crew.

  “Well lads,” he yelled to the men, “ye heard the creatures. We’re two days from our journey’s end. Do ye plan to turn tail and flee back home like a kicked dog? Or do ye plan to venture forth and lay claim to the largest treasure we’ve ever seen?”

  A roar erupted from the men as all fear was chased away with promises of treasure.

  Jonathon smiled, “Then what’re ye waitin’ fer, ye sniveling rats? Full sail to the northwest. We’ve a date with the Lost Lady of the Sea, and I damn sure don’t intend to be late.”

  Jonathon made his way back to the quarterdeck, waving Cass along with him as he did so. As he approached, Jonathon noticed a fear in Beckett’s face. “Come now Beckett, please tell me yer not afraid of some superstition, are ye?”

  “Aye, sir,” Beckett said, his eyes not leaving the horizon, “that I am. I’ve been awfully supportive this whole time sir, but we’ve encountered sea beasts, cursed objects, and now sirens. Sirens that warn us against our current path. We’ve lost good men every step of the way, and now there’s mention of sea dragons and a storm they call The Jaws of Hell? I’ll follow as you command, Cap’n, but I’d be remiss to not at least urge you to reconsider this path.”

  Jonathon thought he saw a nod from Cassandra, but when he looked over, she remained quiet. “I appreciate your concern, Beckett, but how many tales have you seen squashed to either exaggeration or flat falsehood once you fully examine it? That’s all these tales are: superstition. Nothing more. We’ll take The Spectre, and her treasure, and we’ll sail the remainder of our lives with need of neither gold nor fear of reprisal.”

  Beckett closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Jonathon saw quiet despair and resignation as he said, “Aye, sir. Full sail to the northwest.”

  ~~

  “Care to speak your mind now, Cass?” Jonathon asked later in bed.

  Cass turned on her side and propped herself up on her elbow. “I do, Jon. I didn’t wish to undermine you in front of Beckett and make his fear any worse, but I agree with the man. I think we’d do best to turn back and leave this behind us.”

  Jonathon expected as much but still felt a sense of disbelief as he said, “‘Leave this behind us’?! Are you hearing yourself? We’re literally two days from my lifelong dream! Do you really think we should just turn back now?”

  He could see the care in Cass’s eyes as she said, “I know how this must feel, Jon, but please look at everything that’s happened so far. We’ve been warned by everyone we’ve met along the way that our journey is cursed and that we should stay away. We’ve encountered creatures of myth that have lost us Thayer and the others.”

  “A tribe of superstitious old women and a group of fish people hardly count as ‘being told all along the way,’” Jonathon said defensively. “And sure, we were attacked by that creature, but the rumors existed before we even started on this journey; it’s not like we created them.”

  “No,” she said, “but none of these things began happening until after we found that cursed piece and brought it aboard.

  “I once told you that I believed you to be the kind of man who, if the evidence presented itself to you, would cease pursuit of fairy tales and return to your normal life. That you were not the kind to get caught up in a belief to the point that you become a danger to yourself or others…”

  “I am!” Jonathon said, attempting to reassure her. “But that’s the thing, evidence has presented itself to support that The Spectre is real and that we’re right on the verge of finding her, after a century lost at sea!”

  “And what of the men we’ve lost?” she asked urgently. “And the men we may yet lose? We’re already dangerously low on crew as it is for a return journey. And you heard what the sirens said, ‘what you face may doom you all!’ That sounds pretty dangerous to me, superstition or not.”

  Jonathon tried to smile reassuringly, “Cass, I hear you. I know how it sounds, but think about it, how dangerous is this truly from any of our other ventures? Didn’t we lose men in our raid against that trading vessel? Wouldn’t we have likely lost more had we encountered the larger one? We’re reaching a point in our careers that most would begin to consider us due for death soon ourselves. I don’t see the men we’ve lost as anything out of the ordinary…and like I told Beckett, if we find The Spectre, every man on this ship will be able to retire for the rest of their lives…well, in theory. Most will probably spend it all in a few years and get themselves killed when they try to go back to piracy, but that’s neither really here nor there. Point is, we would be truly free to do whatever we wanted! We’d have no need for money, we’d have the most feared vessel on the waters, and we’d have each other!”

  Cassandra stared at the earnest and admittedly naive look on her captain’s face. He truly believed every word he said. And she couldn’t necessarily argue with him either, he made good points. She laughed to herself and smiled with resignation. If this was the path he chose, she’d stand by him all the way. He’d earned that much. “As you say, Jon,” she whispered as she kissed his brow. “I’ll be with you to the end."