The sun rose on a glassy sea, and Black Heart and his crew faced their forty-third day becalmed and without the sight of land and little hope of wind. The canvas above hung limp, dry as the weary eyes of the lookout perched high atop the main mast. The sea’s surface was silken with nary a ripple, and beneath the surface the sea was dark with foreboding. It was here that Black Heart felt most at home. He leaned against the railing and gazed at the horizon to the west. His faithful first mate, Slither, stood nearby leaning against the wheel housing, looking bored. He had not wanted to take this voyage – all the mystic signs had said he shouldn’t. But the silvery tongue of Black Heart had worked it’s magic, and besides, Black Heart had threatened to harm him if he didn’t come.

Slither stood three feet two at his tallest, and nearly two feet wide. His eyes were dark, grey to most observers, but when he became angry they flashed with fires of green. He had a mean streak, ruthless and unfeeling, as cold as death. His job as first mate was to be at Black Heart’s beck and call, but he delighted in his other job, putting people to the plank, and he always relished the capture of a vessel on the high seas, for this gave him many opportunities to feed his enjoyment.

This voyage had thus far not been memorable for Black Heart or Slither, for they had captured only one of the king’s brigantines on the high seas. Setting it to the torch had been the high point thus far. Too, Black Heart in a gesture of benign mercy had spared the lives of the crewmen and put them into life boats and set them adrift, all the while knowing there was little chance they would survive on the open seas. Only the ship’s captain had been taken on board and placed in irons in the hold. But in a fit of rage when the captain refused to renounce his allegiance to the king, Black Heart gave Slither the order to put the man to the plank, which he did. Just before he asked the honor-bound captain to mount the platform erected on the forecastle, Slither fired a shot from his trusty pistol into the deck at the captain’s feet. Startled, the captain jumped, and Slither roared with laughter, after which he put the man to the plank. Throughout this his eyes burned a fiery green.

Below decks the hands had to scurry to patch the hole where the shot fired by Slither had passed through the deck and pierced the side of the ship. It left a neat round opening, which immediately began leaking a trickle of seawater into the bilge area. The hands below deck dreaded the capture of ships on the high seas, because Slither always fired his pistol into the decks, and there were numerous holes in the weathered hull as a result. While the crew repaired the damage as best they could, the holes continued to leak letting in the sea.

The men had learned early on not to complain about Slither’s eccentricities – Joseph the Bold once had reported the leaks to Slither, and later to Black Heart, believing they would heed his warning that the ship was in jeopardy of sinking, but he was put to the plank for his troubles. So no one complained after that about the leaks, and with every ship captured, and every man put to the plank, they quietly patched the holes in the ship’s hull. Clearly this was self-serving and understandable behavior for the weary men. To the last man they hoped for an early end to this voyage.

On the sixtieth day becalmed, the sun rose on a glassy sea, and Black Heart looked out to the western horizon. He had been awake since the first watch, and strode the decks of his trusty ship under the starry heavens. The lavender colors just before sunrise gave way to amber, and gradually to the bright blue-white of the searing morning sun.

Slither stumbled out onto the deck shielding his eyes. It was quiet, and the canvas above still did not whisper or talk with the wind. Slither yelled up to the watch in the crow’s nest atop the main mast – “Have there been any sightings since second watch?” No answer. Slither called again. Still no answer.

Black Heart squinted up through the broad expanse of lifeless canvas, but could not see the watchman. Slither yelled for the second mate to climb to the crow’s nest and awaken the watch. No answer there. He stormed to the hatch to the crew’s quarters and his words echoed down below, but still there was no reply. He turned slowly and eyed the decks fore and aft, and up at the wheelhouse, but no one could be seen. He yelled again for the second mate, but to no avail – no one was stirring anywhere in sight.

Black Heart ordered Slither to check below decks, in the sleeping quarters, and in the galley, and then report back. Slither went off at a run. Black Heart could hear Slither’s harsh voice calling the names of various of the crew, but there were no answering voices. Eventually, Slither returned, his face ashen, his demeanor shaken. “There’s no one on board, captain…” A quick search on deck found all the lifeboats gone. A search of the storeroom and the galley found most of the food gone as well. “Damn,” said Slither. “Damn,” said Black Heart.

That afternoon Black Heart told Slither he sensed that something was wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Slither shook his head and said he, too, felt something was wrong. Silence hung like a pall over everything. Slither walked around the deck in the growing darkness – he looked up at the rigging, at the three masts, and around the empty decks. He stood aft near the wheel, and looked around him. Still puzzled, he looked out at the horizon, and his heart stopped for several beats. The decks were listing to starboard! “But that can’t be!” Slither whispered half to himself. He looked up at the sails, but they remained lifeless in the darkness, for there was still no wind.

Slither instinctively knew what was happening, and in horror he raced down the stairs, and down the hatch to the crew’s quarters. Before he reached the bottom of the ladder, he could hear the sound of trickling water, and the murmur of water sloshing in the bottom of the ship. He held his lantern high and surveyed the bilge area. What he feared was true – water was trickling into the ship through dozens of holes in the ship’s hull. Joseph the Bold had been right all along. “Damn!” said Slither. And right behind him on the ladder, “Damn!” said Black Heart…

Gordon H. Nagai

December 1, 2014