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Good Old Bill

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This story starts with a young man sitting at the bar of my pub, one at the seaside called: ‘The Waddling Walrus’. I don’t own it, but I spend so much time there I might as well say I live there.

It’s much more crowded than usual in the pub because the festival of Admiral Azarus will be held tomorrow and people came from far and wide to see it. The young man was one of them. The only difference: he wasn’t here by choice and was telling it to anyone willing to listen, or unwilling.

He had started drinking early and wasn’t completely sober anymore. He didn’t really seem to care whether anyone listened. “I still don’t understand why gramps dragged us all the way here for some tiny festival on the edge of civilisation. The man is ancient, over seventy years old, can hardly walk to the other side of our garden and yet he manages to drags us halfway across the country. Why?”

I sat down next to him and said “Because it’s worth it boy! He is trying to show you something that you will remember for the rest of your life. It will most likely be the most interesting thing you will ever see.”

“Like what? A few stalls with shady goods and drunk men making a fool of themselves? There’s plenty of that in the city as well you know. Oh right, I hear you throw tiny boats into the sea in this festival. Seeing that is not worth dragging your whole family across half the country.”

“Tiny boats? They’re called spirit ships boy, show some respect. Besides if your grandpa had picked any other year you would be completely right. The stalls are rip-offs and quite a few people get drunk in an unpleasant way. But while the launching of the spirit ships is always a sight to see, this year it will be especially grand.” I said.

The lad looked sceptical. “Yes, I heard the king is attending this year and you are going to put up a show of some kind” He said sarcastically.

I shook my head “It’s the other way around kid. Your grandpa chose this year to drag you here for a reason. The same reason that the king will be here. You see, once every fifty years Admiral Azarus himself will show up to the festival.” I said.

The lad managed to look even more skeptical. “You mean a guy in a costume will show up. Admiral Azarus is a myth. He doesn’t exist. He’s a bogeyman used to scare children into good behaviour.” He derided. Yet this time it was just out of sheer ignorance. It was my turn to look at him in derision.

“Anyone who will tell you he is a myth has not been at the spirit festival fifty years ago, and anyone who uses Admiral Azarus to scare children is an idiot because only the dead need fear him. Tell you what boy, you and your family should get a good place to watch the docks tonight. He usually arrives about an hour after sundown. If, after that, you still don’t believe Azarus is real I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow.” I said.

After that I left him to his complaining. I will tell you now; not a word I said was a lie. It really is a sight to see. That night I watched the docks myself. And I wasn’t the only one, I don’t think there have ever been more people in this town than today.

The docks themselves were incredibly crowded. Order was kept by a large contingency of police and the king himself was standing at the front on an erected stage. Any other place with even a slight view of the docks was also filled with people. I was lucky that I knew a place where very few people would be standing, otherwise I may not have been able to see it through the crowd.

It started about an hour and a half after sundown. At first all we could see was a glow on the horizon but soon you could see the outlines of a ship. An old, but grand, sailing ship with three masts and two rows of at least 30 old fashioned cannons on either side.

But even from afar you could see that this was no ordinary ship. It was burning. Flames of at least 3 meters high were dancing on the deck, fire was moving across the masts as if it was eating them, and the sails burned like giant torches.

When the ship moved closer though, you could tell that not only were the flames not doing any damage, it wasn’t even actual fire. In fact, both the flames and the ship itself shifted oddly and were slightly transparent. As if the whole thing was made of mist.

It’s figurehead was carved in the shape of a goddess and at the prow of the ship we could see its name engraved. ‘The Journeyman’. As it got even closer we could see the crew of the ship working to dock the ship. They were as transparent as the ship.

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Needless to say, many people who had never seen this before were very surprised. Many screamed and quite a few even fainted. When the ship arrived and the crew threw the ropes to the dockworkers, men who had been doing this work for years and could work fast and efficient even during storms, some of them completely failed to catch them and one even stood still in awe.

After a while the ship was finally moored and the gangplank was lowered. And there he was, walking of the plank first, the only solid man on the entire ship.

Admiral Azarus.

The stories would have you believe that he is a terrifying looking man. At least 4 meters tall, with a scarred and savage looking face, a long and shaggy beard of the deepest black, and that the ground he walks upon bursts into flame.

The real man was a bit less imposing. He was slightly taller than average, but not exactly tall, his face was like that any other man of around 20ish years old, his ‘beard’ consisted of the normal stubble of a man who dislikes to shave, and the only thing burning in the near vicinity of him was his ship.

But no matter how he looked, the man is a living legend, at least four hundred years old and he just stepped off of a ghost ship. So people were still standing in silence to see what he would do.

But nothing really special happened until he went to see the king. Even the king was speechless for a time but Admiral Azarus greeted him as if he were the son of an old friend. He smiled a wide smile and said, “So you are George’s kid eh? Nice to meet you.”

The king and Admiral Azarus exchanged pleasantries with less ceremony then one would expect with a king. Admiral Azarus wasn’t a man for ceremony. Except, of course, when it came to his job.

When the greetings were done Admiral Azarus faced his ship and took something out of his pocket. It was a small silver bell. Then he spoke towards the sea in a loud and carrying voice “Sailors! I give you permission to leave your ship. Enjoy yourselves until tomorrow. At sunset we will set off once more!”

Then he ringed his bell. A single clear tone, louder than it should have been, echoed over the water and all of a sudden people saw why he was called an Admiral.

Hundreds of smaller ghost ships and a few big ships suddenly populated the harbor. The fleet consisted of ghost ships of all sorts and sizes. Mostly sailing ships but also modern boats with outboard propellers, some simple rowboats and even a few kayaks. All of them were crewed.

The sailors started making their way onto the shore. Most of them floated, others walked on top of the water and a few, usually the more solid looking ghosts, walked from ship to ship until they had made it to the shore.

As you would expect this set of another wave of screaming and fainting, but the ghosts were harmless. In fact, they couldn’t harm anyone if they wanted to. The worst they could do was say some nasty words. Mostly, they were just interested in talking to people though. Especially the ghosts who were familiar with some of the people who had assembled in the town.

As such, a lot of people were crying while talking to the ghosts of deceased family members, friends or lovers. I myself spoke to a few of my old friends. My friends had other people to talk to though, so after a few hours I called it a night and went to sleep.

The next day was chaos. Our little town was already filled to the brim with people and now all the ghosts of the last fifty years had joined us. The festival was going on in full swing, with even ghosts participating in the games. The food stalls smelled amazing but not as amazing as the sheer amount of people in the roads.

It was too much for me, so I merely spent the day in the pub again. My old friends and their living friends joined me there and we spent the whole day talking. I think everyone who met deceased family members or friends would pick that over the grandest of festivals any day.

That evening was the launching of the spirit ships. Not only the docks, but a vast stretch of shore in either direction was filled with people who were carrying models of ships. I had no one to send off so I found my spot again and looked out over the docks.

Admiral Azarus talked to the king some more, but when the sun had set it was time for him to leave. He boarded his ship and in a carrying voice shouted “Sailors! Your day of rest is over. Return to your ships!” When he said this he, once again, took out his bell and rang it.

With this all the ghosts were drawn back towards the ships. Some even mid-sentence. “To all those who will be joining us today. I welcome you to the fleet.” He said. Then, The Journeyman set off.

This was the signal for people to launch the spirit ships. The king launched the first one. A ship for all the spirits that had no one to grieve for them. He had an expertly made model and when he set it afloat a life-sized ghostly copy of the ship appeared on top of it. Together with its crew.

Next were the general populace. Many of them were crying as they said goodbye to their loved ones and launched their own ships.

It was always the most interesting to look at the boats the children made. You see the model isn’t important for spirit ships. It is the spirit you place within it. Kids usually have very crude boats. Some of them hardly more than a block of wood that should have capsized the moment it was let go.

But when the spirits of the ships appear, they are always grand. Because that is what kids imagine when they make their ships. This time as well, the kids’ spirit ships looked fantastical as always. Most of them probably wouldn’t even float if you tried to build them, but with spirits none of that mattered.

I stayed there for another half an hour or so. That was all it took for the ships to disappear along the horizon. The king left as well and so did most of the people.

It caused, what I’m guessing was, the biggest traffic jam in the history of traffic jams.