Adrift

by Travis Smith

  He wasted no time beating his hasty retreat. He set off as quickly and quietly as he could back down the hill and to the beach.

  Once he reached the beach again, he felt confident that the creature wasn’t following him, but he again felt vulnerable to the men who were hunting him. Hugging the tree line, The Stranger made his way along the beach farther and farther away from the barony ship he’d seen the night before.

  He walked for most of the day, still squirming and struggling with his shackles. He kept a watchful eye for any signs of life, which most certainly would pose a threat to his mission.

  Late in the afternoon, as the sun was just beginning to set, The Stranger saw something on the shore that broke the monotony of the waves and sand. Taking in one last survey of his surroundings, he broke out in an eager dash toward the object.

  As he got nearer, it became clear that the object was indeed a boat. A boat large enough to brave the seas surrounding the isle but small enough to be captained by one man alone.

  His heart rate quickened as he approached. For the first time, he could actually feel his freedom before him. He could see himself pushing off from the small dock and sailing straight to Reprise to find his wife and son. Shackles on his wrist or not, he would make this work.

  He ran along the pier and leapt onboard the boat. Everything appeared to be in working order. The sails were all intact, the masts still stood, and the hull remained afloat.

  Sorely wishing he’d had the time and means necessary to have collected some fresh water when he had the chance, The Stranger began untying the ropes binding the ship to the pier. He would find food and water the first chance he got, as soon as he was far from this forsaken island.

  He’d nearly finished untying the first tether when a gruff voice spoke from behind him.

  “Well, well, looky who it be.”

  10

  The Stranger turned to see Skuttler hunched grotesquely behind him. The man appeared to be struggling to stand upright from his hands and feet, the crewman whom he so longed to become at battle with the four-legged monster he truly was within. Skuttler held the sword with which he’d managed to escape at arm’s length.

  “I c’d gut ye here ’n’ now, Stranga,” he said.

  The Stranger said nothing. How could he let himself get so close only to be blindsided yet again.

  “Why ye on me boat, chummy?”

  “I did not know you had your own boat,” The Stranger replied.

  “Well I’s gonna use ’er to get off this fuckin’ rock, but now I got somethin’ better in mind.”

  “Dare I ask what deranged thoughts you’ve conjured?”

  “Don’ talk down to ol’ Skuttly, ye prissy prince! We ain’t in yer precious kingdom anymore. An’ what would ye have done to I, were ye on the other side o’ the blade?”

  The Stranger never looked away from Skuttler’s lunatic eyes, which darted ceaselessly in their sockets. “You are as toxic as a parasite and as slimy as a grub worm, and I would revel in the crunch of your skull beneath my heel.”

  Skuttler smiled and flicked his tongue to lick the corner of his mouth. “Aye, I thought as much, but lucky fer ye, I’m a kinder spirit than ye.” At this The Stranger scoffed. “I got ’alf a min’ t’ let ye live another day.”

  “Lower your blade,” The Stranger said. “We’ll see who emerges victorious.”

  “I’ll lower me blade into yer babbie stick ’n’ see who emerges then! Aye, but I think I’ll let ye live awhile longer yet.” Skuttler looked up and down the nearby beach.

  “You think you can just march me back to your captain and he’ll welcome you back to the crew with open arms?” The Stranger asked.

  “That’s exactly what I think! I’d make ye sail me ’n’ this ship far ’n’ away if I thought fer a moment ye wouldn’ sabotage me ever’ chance ye got!” Skuttler spat back. “Even a good slave knows obedience, some’n’ I doubt ye’d ever have.”

  “Obey you?” The Stranger asked. “Sir, I’m afraid you’re correct. That is something I would never do.”

  “Ye’ll obey whatever I say ye’ll obey wiv me cutlass at yer throat!” he shrieked with mounting petulance, digging the point of the blade uncomfortably deep into The Stranger’s soft chin.

  The Stranger resisted an urge to swat the weapon from Skuttler’s stupid hands. Instead, he merely pulled away from the painful tip of the sword. “You’re a plaguing rat, and you’ll die a coward’s death,” he warned emptily.

  “Aye, we’ll see—” Skuttler began, but he hushed as the sounds of voices began coming from the trees. He grabbed The Stranger’s smock and forced him to his knees. “Get down!” he whispered.

  “How many men do you think you can fight off with that fancy cutlass?” The Stranger asked.

  “Keep yer voice down!” Skuttler ordered, not altogether quietly. “I’ll be sure to gut ye like a wild hog ’fore I get in any guff wiv anybody else!”

  Three familiar men emerged from the tree line.

  “Shit!” Skuttler muttered. His tongue was working at his lower lip frantically, and The Stranger could tell he was struggling to keep the sword out and not bring his hands together and worry them.

  “Looks like your men don’t need you after all,” The Stranger said, his amusement at Skuttler’s dismay not quite outweighing his fury at how close he’d come to freedom.

  “Shut yer fuckin’ face!” Skuttler spat. “I swear I’ll kill ye on the spot.”

  “You may only kill me once,” The Stranger replied.

  “Mateys!” Skuttler called, standing up straight at last. His hoarse caveman rasp had transformed yet again. “Fellers, I’m over here! I got ’im!”

  Julian stopped in his tracks and looked toward Skuttler’s voice. He led his two men toward the skiff at a brisk walk and leapt deftly onboard from the pier.

  “I—I found ’im tryin’ t’ flee the isle, Cap’n,” Skuttler said, his resolve fading at the sight of his fun-loving captain’s murderous eyes.

  “Ya two limey bastards think I come to this fuckin’ rock fer a furlough?” he screamed in Skuttler’s face. He pushed the man aside and advanced on The Stranger, still shouting. “Ye think I wanted to spend me day chasin’ yer arses all over the fuckin’ island?” He brought the hilt of his sword—curled within his fist—down upon The Stranger’s unprotected nose. The Stranger fell to his hands with a river of thick blood billowing from both nostrils.

  Skuttler briefly attempted to interject. “Cap’n I never meant to—”

  Julian wheeled on him and rushed him as well, slamming his fist again and again on top of the man’s head as he fell to the ground in a whimpering heap. “An’ jus’ what the everlovin’ fuck do ye expect me t’ do wiv ye now? Take ye back to Reprise?” He ceased punching Skuttler and proceeded to kick the long, thin man in a shrieking ball at his feet. “I warned ye t’ get yer arse outta me sight! It ain’t me own wishes, it’s me orders!”

  “I’m sorry!” Skuttler screamed. “I’m sorry, jus’ let me leave. I only wanted t’ help ye. I only meant t’ help me mates!”

  “Silence yerself fer once in yer useless life. Ye meant t’ help yerself, ’n’ that’s all ye’ve ever done.” He turned and looked at The Stranger. “You. Get the fuck off this boat ’fore I do som’n’ I’ll regret.”

  The Stranger stayed on his knees and stared at Julian in silence. The white-hot bolt of pain in his nose had subsided to a dull throb. He could taste the blood on his lips and in the back of his throat, but none of it sorrowed him more than his defeat. He cursed himself for getting caught yet again, and he fought an urge to rush Captain Julian and impale himself upon the pirate’s sword, putting an end to this misery once and for all.

  But that sole thought clouded his mind and prevailed: I have to find my son.

  Nonetheless, The Stranger did not intend to obey the orders of Captain Julian. He sat stone-faced and silent until Julian swung the back of his hand across the side of The Stranger’s face, slinging watery blo
od across the boat’s deck.

  “Get up ’n’ get off, I said!”

  The Stranger remained silent.

  “Ruddy useless fucking swine!” Julian spat, seizing the shackles on The Stranger’s wrists and yanking him painfully upright by his arms. “An’ ye’s t’ be the fuckin’ king? Rulin’ all the lands with yer sullen insolence? I don’ blame Bernard at all fer doin’ what he do ’n’ settin’ the tides right!” He pushed The Stranger forward and harrumphed as he stumbled over the deck of the boat and back onto the pier.

  Bee-sting and Paulie stopped struggling not to snicker aloud at their ranting captain and drew their swords to hold The Stranger at point.

  “Get me back t’ the ship. I’m sick o’ skipperin’ ’round this fuckin’ rock. Ye two lead me way.”

  “What abou’ Skuttler?” Paulie asked, clearly hoping for a bit more of a show before the long trek back to their ship.

  “What abou’ ’im?” Julian barked back.

  “We jus’ gonna leave ’im here?”

  “Aye! Leave ’im here, ye bumblin’ fool! He ain’t worth the ’eadache, ’n’ I ain’t gonna kill ’im jus’ ’cause Staig don’ like ’im! He always done righ’ by me. Leave ’im fer the island monsters.”

  The crewmen reluctantly turned and marched The Stranger back toward the beach.

  “Now get me back to me boat,” Julian concluded. “If ye lose the pris’ner or get me lost again, I won’ be so kind’earted.”

  11

  Captain Julian grumbled and complained for most of the walk back to his ship. The sun disappeared completely not long after the four set off from the small pier where Skuttler likely still lay wallowing in his self-pity.

  “Ye better not be schemin’ any more getaway tricks, Stranga,” Bee-sting said, prodding him pointedly in the back with his cutlass.

  “I’d need not scheme if any more insects come out to terrorize you,” The Stranger replied.

  “Aye, yuk it up, pretty boy,” he grumbled. “I’d love me a reason t’ stick ye right ’n the neckaroo!”

  “You can’t kill me, and you and I both know it.”

  “Test me.”

  “And let Bernard’s wrath come down upon you personally?” The Stranger asked. “Frankly, I’d leap at the possibility were I able to stick around to watch the fallout.”

  “The Baron don’ even know yer alive! He think we out here chasin’ runaways ’n’ thieves!”

  Captain Julian chimed in moodily, “Oy, quit yer fuckin’ bullyin’ my pris’ner! If one more thing go wrong, I’m takin’ it out on yer fleshy arse!” He turned his sword sideways and slapped Bee-sting across the bottom with the broad side. Beesting jumped but said no more.

  “See? Your dutiful captain wouldn’t forfeit the glory he’s sure to receive from bringing me back to Reprise,” The Stranger jibed.

  “What did I say?” Julian yelled. He rushed The Stranger from behind and seized the back of his hair. “Ain’t nobody said I gotta take ye home in one piece!” he growled into The Stranger’s ear before pushing him face down into the sand.

  “Cap’n, there be our shippy!” Paulie exclaimed.

  The Stranger lifted his head from the sand to see a glow of torchlights in the distance. His beard was caked with dried blood, and the sand stuck to it uncomfortably.

  “Aye, so it be!” Julian agreed. He pulled The Stranger back upright by his hair and marched him swiftly forward. “Come on now, don’ be gettin’ any idears so close to the finish line!”

  12

  Julian didn’t let go of The Stranger’s hair until they had marched up the ramp and boarded the ship to the apparent delight of his full crew. As many as twenty men threw their drinks in the air and hollered their welcome.

  “Lads, we got us a royal guest!” he called to his crew.

  The men cheered and laughed uproariously, though no doubt not understanding the extent of their captain’s statement.

  “We thought ye’d been eated by that beastie we’s been hearin’!” one man said as he leapt from the mast and hurried toward Julian.

  “Don’ even get me started,” Julian replied. “I be mighty pleased ye didn’ turn tail an’ sail off wivout me, boys!”

  The crew applauded again. “Never in life!” one man yelled.

  “Well, set the sails ’n’ round me up enough ale t’ kill a lumberjack!” Julian continued. “We be fuckin’ off tonight!”

  The men all cheered once more and began scurrying about to complete their preparations.

  “Paulie, take the pris’ner to his quarters, me boy. I’m goin’ to me chamber t’ have a fuckin’ nap!”

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n!” Paulie put his sword away and took The Stranger by the arm to lead him toward a dark staircase to the lower deck of the ship.

  The Stranger thought minutely that he could best the mangy pirate in officer’s dress, but ultimately that would get him nowhere. He would sit and bide his time on the voyage back to Reprise. The circumstances were nowhere near ideal, but the ship was sailing him home again. If the pirates left him alone for long enough, perhaps he could find a way to escape the shackles so that he may actually stand a chance against Bernard when the time came.

  “Here we are, yer highness! Special lodgings, just fer ye!” Paulie said as he used a large key to unlock a heavy wooden door. “Who the fuck is this?” he said, kicking a man who was slumped against the wall in the room.

  The man’s hands were bound behind his back, and his neck was craned impossibly as he slept. A black hole atop his long beard, the man’s mouth let out a loud snore as his body was jostled.

  “Another drunken runaway on this forsaken isle?” Paulie asked The Stranger, who merely stared at the wall. “Well, guess ye’ll ’ave some comp’ny ’til we figger out what to do wiv ’im.” He pushed The Stranger gruffly toward the wall and backed out of the room cautiously.

  The Stranger stood and listened to the heavy door slam shut and the lock click into place behind him. He sighed and sat against the wall across from the other occupant. He started when he looked up to find the man not sleeping at all, but beaming a familiar grin at him from across the room with his unbound hands in his lap.

  “Long time, no see, Stranger!” John Tompkins exclaimed merrily. “Ya ready to get outta here?”

  The Cave:

  Part 4

  The Stranger continued for a time in silence, struggling to forget the face of the squat troll who whispered dark secrets throughout the soundless cave.

  He wandered aimlessly along the cave’s endless corridor, taking note of little in the dark, monotonous environment. He continued forward, deeper and deeper into the cave, with no sense of purpose or direction.

  At last a voice broke him from his apathetic trance. “Where are you going, son?”

  The Stranger turned to find his mother, Diana Vaga, standing directly behind him. “Mother?” he began.

  Her hands were clasped over her belly, and she stared at her son in tearful woe. “How have you gotten yourself here?” she asked.

  “Mother,” The Stranger repeated, a dreadful lump rising in his throat, “I know not how I came to be here. What is this place?” He fell to his knees at her feet and leaned forward into her like a small child seeking solace.

  His body continued forward until he reached out and caught his fall at the last moment. When he looked up, his mother was gone.

  “No!” he cried, his voice echoing throughout the cave. He turned back around to find her morose figure standing behind him anew. Now he noticed her transparency. In the dim, sourceless light, The Stranger thought he could nearly see through his mother’s body.

  A single tear spilled from her eye. “Look what you’ve done to yourself, my son,” she whispered.

  “I miss you, mother,” The Stranger wept. He bothered not suppressing his sorrow, and instead let his grief flow forth. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You let him kill me,” she spoke. She removed her hands from her midriff and revealed a gaping, bl
oody hole in her gut.

  “No …” The Stranger sobbed in a choked whisper.

  “You let him kill me and take your—”

  “No!” he yelled.

  His mother vanished. In her place stood his father Robert. The man’s neck was sliced fully through. Fresh blood still poured from the wound, but it did not hinder his voice.

  “You let Bernard do this to us,” Robert said sternly, in a tone which The Stranger had never heard from his father’s mouth.

  “Father, I’m so sorry,” he wept on his knees.

  “Your wife and son are gone. They remain that wicked man’s prize for what you let him do to us.”

  The Stranger reached out a shaky hand and placed it upon his father’s boot. It fell through the apparition and landed lamely on the cold stone below.

  “You failed your family then, and you have failed them now,” Robert continued.

  “Please, stop,” The Stranger begged.

  “You will suffer an eternity in this blackness.”

  “No!” he pleaded. “I will find my son. I will find Laura.”

  “You will never see your son again.”

  A resounding crash shook the cave. Dense fog rose from the ground as an expansive rift appeared between The Stranger and his father’s ghost.

  “Do not speak so,” The Stranger implored, ignoring the clamor within the earth.

  “That life is over. Your son is gone, and it is all your fault!”

  “No!” The Stranger repeated, thick fog continually rising from the fissure between his legs.

  The fog continued to rise until it clouded the entire chamber and The Stranger wondered remotely if he may suffocate. At last the mist dissipated and revealed a jagged, stony wall where Robert Vaga’s visage had stood a moment before.