His world was enveloped by darkness.
In his chest, his heart thumped against his ribs at a quick pace. The inability to see anything combined with the sounds of soft creaks and moans of the wood fueled his anxiety. Each and every second that passed had him wound up more tightly. In the darkness, every sound was magnified. His imagination ran wild in the absence of light.
He was hiding from the pirate crew of the notorious Captain Grimm, and every noise filled his head with visions of his potential capture. The sea jostled the Jewel in a gentle fashion. Before things had gotten bad, the steady rise and fall of the ship had been comforting. Now, down in the darkness, it was a source of terror as each move threatened his precarious sense of balance. Each move elicited new groans from the aged wood of the ship that filled his head with worries that the ship would sink somehow.
Lawson could hear pirates stomping around the cabin above him. Muffled sounds of conversation filtered down through the wood that made up the ceiling of his hiding spot, their words muted beyond clarity. I hope Dad is okay. He tried pressing his ear against the wood to make out the words being said, to no avail.
The darkness was absolute. All he could do was sit. Wait. Alone, with nothing but his thoughts, fears, worries, and the fact that his entire world had been killed or destroyed in the past few days to keep him company.
It was too much. Moisture welled in his eyes as the pressure in his chest increased to the point that it threatened to escape as a sob. He doubled over in the smuggling space and pulled his knees to his chest. A loud sob escaped his lips, so he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the rest of them.
Images of his mother’s body flashed through his mind. She must have died thinking I hate her. He thought of his father, of the fate he had likely met at the hands of his foes. If those pirates captured him, there’s no telling what they’re doing to him… With nothing but his wicked thoughts to keep him company, time seemed to grind on. Before he knew it, he drifted off into a deep sleep, exhausted from the emotional trauma.
----------------------------------------
He was torn from his slumber by a booming sound that left his ears ringing and buzzing. All he could hear was a high pitched whine. He opened his eyes to pitch black. What was that? He pressed his ear to the ceiling once more, but he wasn’t able to hear anything over that buzzing sound. He felt movement in the boat itself. A sudden shift that was so powerful he was thrown from his feet, rolling backward.
As he came to a stop, he felt moisture on his arm. That was odd. The ship should be watertight, shouldn’t it? He groped around in the darkness, his hand eventually finding a small puddle. It almost seems to be… Is it getting deeper? He wrapped his free hand around his wrist to mark the water level, then pulled his hand away and waited for a hundred heartbeats. He placed his hand in the same spot and found the water had definitely raised, covering both hands now.
His hearing was starting to come back. He could hear a trickling sound that accompanied the rising water level. Maybe there were some barrels down here that broke? He sniffed. Salt filled his nostrils. More than it had on the deck. He cupped his hand and brought some of the rising liquid to his lips. Saltwater. Just how far did I roll? He recalled the sensation. It felt like he’d turned over about seven times. That meant the hatch would be about seven paces back the other way.
He rose to his feet, his body hunched over in the cramped space, and took a few steps forward, his hands feeling along the ceiling of the small compartment for a groove that would indicate the hatch. He found it just where he’d expected. He pressed an ear against the wood to try and hear any muffled indications that the ship was still occupied. Nothing. Only the soft trickle of water into his compartment. Seems like they’ve left. Time to get out.
He pressed his hands against the hatch and gave a shove with all his strength. It didn’t budge. He gave it another try, this time crouching down before jumping up to try and ram his shoulder into the wood. Nothing. Suddenly, the ship seemed to heave again, and he was sent tumbling back into the water. This time he tumbled until his entire body was submerged.
He came up sputtering. In the darkness, he couldn’t see how deep the water was, but he could tell the level had risen considerably. The ship seemed to be moving erratically, angled in a way that wasn’t cohesive with the design of the crawl space. There was sea water in the compartment. He crawled out of the water and sat on the angled floor.
It… It’s sinking. He realized. It felt as though the dark space was closing in all around him, suffocating him as surely as the rising water would. His heart pounded in his chest. His breathing came short, shallow, rapid, lungs struggling to fill with air. He reached up to grab at his chest, his arm trembling mightily. He thought calming thoughts and tried to force himself to relax.
It wasn’t working. The water level continued to rise, the cold liquid coming into contact with his back. Oh… if it’s sinking, then I need to do something or else I’ll die...It was a terrifying thought, but it was the kind of thought that gave him strength. Purpose.
He felt around the ceiling for the trapdoor once more. He found the groove of the wood and tried to dig into it with his fingers, his nails scratching and trying to gain purchase on the small crevasse. There was a sudden, sharp pain as one of his nails bent too far and broke in the gap. He winced and brought his hand down to his mouth, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue as he sucked on the wound.
He fumbled around in his pockets, feeling around for something that might help him. He brushed against a piece of wood. Useless. Or was it? As his fingers explored further, he realized it was just what he needed. His pocket knife.
He pulled it from his pocket and pulled the blade from between the wood, a soft ‘click’ sounded as it locked into place. He brought the blade to the gap between the trapdoor and the rest of the wood and began to pry at it with his tool. The sound of rising water never ceased as he worked at the door.
The door wasn’t moving as he tried to pry it open. He couldn’t feel the lock, but he could tell it was stronger than his blade. Throwing subtlety to the wind, he pulled the knife back and slammed it against the wood of the door, a chunk of wood bouncing off his arm as it fell to the floor. He pulled back and jammed the knife against the door again, another large chunk falling free, but unfortunately for Law the vibrations knocked the blade from his hand.
He heard it fall to the floor and slide down, a soft ‘plunk!’ as it wound up in the water. You have GOT to be kidding me! I don’t have time for this! Frustration was starting to overtake his anxious state. He crawled down to the water with as much speed as possible, plunging down into the liquid to feel around for his knife. It was getting deeper and deeper. He had to hold his breath as he fumbled around for the blade.
Pain bloomed in his palm as the blade sliced through his skin. He wrapped his fingers around the blade and came up with it in his hand, drawing in a breath and shaking his head to clear the saltwater from his eyes. He hurried back to the spot below the trap door, his steps splashing all the way there. He switched the knife from his injured right hand over to his left and then worked the blade against the door again. His arm shook as he began to ram his knife up against the wood.
He tried to keep hitting the same spot to whittle away at the barrier, but in the darkness he couldn’t really tell how successful he was. Chips of wood rained down on him even as the water level grew higher, up to his ankles, then his knees. As the water rose, his stabs grew more and more frantic. He could feel the blood surging through his veins, pounding in his ears, his heart beating against his ribs with such force that it threatened to burst from his very chest.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
He managed to break through the door as the water reached his waist. It was just a small hole, but it was enough to give him hope. There was a beam of light, orange-tinted, shining down through the hole. It was faint enough that it didn’t offer much illumination, but to his eyes that were so adjusted to the darkness, the beam was blinding. Inspiring. The light seemed to do as much inside his heart as it did inside the compartment, battling the shadows until they were driven away.
He began to chip away at thew wood, working with haste to widen the opening as the water level grew higher and higher. He could see it rising as the light reflected against the murky blackness that threatened to overtake him. He could feel heat coming through the hole, the warmth comforting as cold water rose to cover more and more of his body.
The opening widened rapidly, but the water level seemed to rise just as fast. By the time he could fit his hand through the hole, there was water coming up to his chest. He grew more frantic in his motions, chipping away at the wood. His hand was practically a blur in the light, the orange glow glinting off of his blade. Panic. “Help!” He called through the gap. He lost control of his breathing, his vision fading out, his chest tightening painfully as if someone was squeezing his insides.
Water reached his shoulders. He snapped out of his panic and continued to work at the hole, but with his arm partially submerged he couldn't attack it with the same strength. He began to saw at the opening instead, saw dust raining down on him as his blade cut through the wood. It isn’t going to be enough. He tried to put that thought out of his head, working as swiftly as he could. His arm pistoned in and out of the water, splashes carrying salt towards his face and eyes, making him sputter.
The water was to his neck. Then his chin. He gave up on his knife, swimming up to the hole and screaming, “HELP!” He yelled until his voice was hoarse. He could feel moisture welling up in his eyes as he realized just how grim things were. Reaching through the gap, he groped with desperation for anything that could help him. The water was up to his nose now, forcing him to withdraw his arm so that he could press his mouth to the opening and draw in a gasping breath.
Water overtook him. He reached through the hole again, feeling blindly for something, anything that could help. The ship shifted, tilting mightily, the water rushing in a different direction. He resisted with his arm through the hole, but the air was burning in his lungs. His sight began to fade to black. Lungs screamed at him to exhale and take a breath, regardless of the fact that there was nothing but water to fill them. I don’t want to die… He rammed his body at the opening, trying to force his way through. He brought his lips up to it, but the water had already risen high enough that he could no longer find air.
Just when all hope was lost, the ship rocked again, and the sound of a muffled thump was carried to his ears. The door swung open, and with his arm still in the hole, it dragged him free of the hold. He broke through the water into the air and exhaled with a sputtering cough before he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Sweet, sweet air filled his lungs. It tasted of salt, oil, and smoke, but it was the sweetest thing he’d ever had. The room was so bright that it left him feeling almost blind. He blinked and brought a hand up to his eyes to shield them from the excess light as they adjusted.
He removed his arm from the hole and looked around the cabin. It was angled in a way that struck him as unnatural. In the back of the cabin, near the button that opened the trap door, he could see the corpse of the mountainous man his father had killed. There were two other corpses that belonged to men he didn’t recognize there, cut to ribbons. He could see there was an orange glow coming from the deck outside.
Law moved over to the corpses, searching for anything useful. He found a large cutlass and hefted it in his left hand, giving it one or two test swipes. Just in case anyone’s still here. One of the men had a large piece of rope wrapped around his shoulder, which Law picked up and wrapped around his own shoulder, trying to ignore the wet feeling of the blood that had soaked into the rough fabric.
He walked through the door. The deck was ripped in half in some locations, jagged pieces aflame and jutting up from the deck. Loud groans and creaking sounds emanated from the fissure in the boat as the wood that was still together protested the increased strain. He scanned the deck for any signs of life, but the only people he saw had been killed in the battle. He didn’t see his father’s corpse, nor that of the captain, but he didn’t dare to hope that they may have survived amid the fiery inferno.
Another loud creak sounded and his eyes returned to the growing split in the deck. That won’t hold for long. What do I do? Are there any rowboats? He ran to the near side of the deck, peering over the side and seeing only ropes hanging free. Moving to the right side, he found that it was also void of the little dinghies that were used to go ashore when a port wasn’t available.
He cursed. Through the haze of the smoke, he could see Captain Grimm’s ship as it sailed away. His eyes straining, he just managed to read ‘The Fall of Seas’ written on the back of the ship as it continued on into the horizon. The name burned into his mind. He never saw the face of the man who had robbed him of so much, but he would never forget him. One day, he’d have his revenge.
One thing was certain: He couldn’t stay on the ship and wait for it to burn. Law ran back into the cabin and looked for anything that seemed like it would float. A large wooden chest hinted at buoyancy, its polished wood suggesting that it would be able to keep water out. When he tried to slide it, it didn’t budge. He ran from the room and looked at the hatch that led down into the lower levels of the ship. There was a rather large corpse splayed there.
He fought down his disgust and crouched down beside the man. He seemed to be a pirate, his unkempt appearance not matching any of the crew of the Jewel that Law had met. He set his cutlass down. Slipping his hands beneath the man’s stomach, he bit back a gag as the man’s mouth lolled opened in as he moved him, the smell of death and rot escaping his mouth.
Law gritted his teeth and heaved with his legs. The corpse started to roll the opposite way, but something in Law’s leg protested at the weight and he lost his drive. The corpse rolled back to face him, the pirate’s mouth open wide in a mocking grin, sightless eyes staring at him. He gave another strong heave, and this time the corpse rolled free of the hatch.
The victory didn’t bring him any elation. He lifted the hatch open and peered down into the dark hold, beams of light piercing the darkness and revealing water sloshing freely inside. He clambered down the steps and into the water, his eyes straining against the darkness to search for a barrel or crate that looked seaworthy. He was up to his knees in water. He saw a shadowy shape bobbing up and down in the darkness and splashed over to it. As he grew closer he could make out the tell-tale cylindrical shape of a barrel and a small smile graced his lips. He could see dozens, perhaps hundreds more floating there. He might find a way to survive this nightmare.
He grabbed one of the barrels and guided it over to the stairs as the water level continued to rise. By the time he made it to the stairs, he was waist deep in water. Have to hurry. He thought, dragging the barrel up the stairs one at a time. When he finally managed to haul the barrel onto the deck of the ship, orange flames hungrily engulfing more of the ship with each and every moment, he knew he didn’t have any time to waste. He grabbed his stolen cutlass and set to work prying the lid from the barrel. The pressure made his hand, cut open from the knife, ache, but he gritted his teeth and dealt with the pain with a quiet hiss.
With a loud crack, the seal broke and the lid flipped free. Law peered into the barrel and saw it was full of black powder. His brain started to work overtime as he considered the sight of the black powder, the rapidly growing flames, the fact that the ship was already half sunk. His heart felt as though it dropped through the pit of his stomach. Working at a frantic pace, he tilted the barrel over to empty it of powder. The ship shifted as he poured out the powder, and his wet fingers didn’t have a great grip on the barrel, which escaped his grasp and rolled into the fire.
The sound of an explosion. Fragments turned to shrapnel pelted the ship and hit several of the corpses. Law was lucky enough to go unscathed, but his potential ride out was gone. Worse, the explosion seemed to have torn a bigger hole in the deck, sending fiery planks down into the hold below.
Where hundreds of barrels of gunpowder floated ominously. A massive explosion deafened Law, heat and light filling his eyes before everything went black.
----------------------------------------
The sun beat down on the white sand of the beach. Waves lapped against the skin of a man who was lying face down at the tideline as the sea receded. A soft and gentle breeze blew in from the sea, broad-leafed sea grape bushes rustling as they were blown into one another. Birds chirped cheerful songs to one another, crabs of all shapes and sizes scuttling along through the sand. Palm trees lined the beach just a few meters removed from the tideline, coconuts laden with milk hanging in the trees.
The figure was still enough that the animals on the beach didn’t react to his presence. His body was tinged red, his clothes soaked, saturated with salt water, singed and torn. His skin was bruised and battered. Suddenly, he drew in a deep breath and raised his head, hand coming up to brush sand away from his eyes.
Law was awake.