by Mandy Olina
II
‘See, when I was your age, Tommy, I used to live in a big city by the ocean, down south and to the west. My folks had their home right near the harbor so after school I’d hang around with some other boys around the docks. We didn’t do nothing much, mostly hung around the sailors and asked them to tell us their stories. Now, one day, an old man shows up on the dock. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at the sea and the boats and tears come to his eyes and then he gets on his knees and kisses the wood of the deck. First I thought he must be some crazy old man to kiss that dirty wood that everybody walked on. But, when he got up there was a fire in his eyes. See, Tommy, I realized that either the dock or the sea or the boats or all of them together meant more to that old man than I could ever dream of understanding. So, curious kid that was, instead of running along to play with my friends I went to talk to him just like you started talking to me. I said:
‘Sir, why’d you kiss the dock for?’
And the old man looked at me dead serious and said:
‘Because I left this here dock to go to Willow Island and came back alive to tell the story.’
‘What’s Willow Island?’
‘Son, you don’t know about Willow Island? Hell, when I was your age every kid on the coast dreamed of setting foot on it. It’s a magical island where water runs backwards, up to the sky from the middle of the island and you can catch the largest sea bass you’ve ever laid eyes on. They also say that in those waters there’s one giant green fish, the spirit of the island, that can fulfill any man’s wishes if he catches him. Many have tried, and only I have come back to tell the tale.’
‘You’re a sailor?’
‘Indeed I used to be. I’m old and gray now, but I’ve still got some tricks up my sleeve.’
‘Can you teach me how to be a sailor?’
‘Hehe!’ he laughed. ‘I like you, kid. Yeah, I reckon I could if you’re not one to back down.’
‘Never, sir! I’ll do everything you say if you teach me how to be a sailor!’
So the old man accepted and took me to be his apprentice on his old, worn-out sail boat. The Gray Wolf she was called; and despite her age, she was a mighty fine boat. I remember one time we were caught in a thunderstorm out at sea. The waves hit her so hard from the side she almost laid flat on the surface of the water for what seemed to one of the longest moments of my life. The silence was deafening as she stood tilted. Suddenly there was a blinding light and a roaring thunder, and she erupted back up like she was trying to stab the storm’s heart. The waters calmed down afterwards and we sailed home with the wind.
I learned to pull up the sails and steer her in clear weather and in bad winds and measure our speed and position and navigate with a map. After a couple of years next to the old man, I felt like a real sailor even if I was still no more than a boy. The old man didn’t talk much, but he took an honest liking to me and promised that one day he’d show me the way to Willow Island.
Truth be told, I was happy as a boy could be. I was out at sea all day. My skin was darkened by the sun and my hands were worn from pulling on the ropes and the wood and salt water. My shirts all had holes in them that my mother would sew up. They stopped buying new ones because I just came back home with them all torn and no one but the sun could see me all day long anyways.
So one day, we headed out to sea. Further than usual. We caught a really good wind and the Wolf was just flying. I went up to the crow’s nest to look for land with my spyglass, see if I could spot any. And I didn’t, but I saw a ship up north. Dark and slender. Couldn’t make out the flag. So I yelled out to the old man who said we should go and meet our fellow sailors. Said he’s gonna teach me the courtesies of making acquaintance with another ship out at sea. Something that done properly can save a ship captain’s life, he said. So we went.
We came up really close behind them. I kept my spyglass on their mast, but they weren’t showing any flag. The old man had me move up behind the ship, fill the old cannon with powder and fire it, to signal the meeting.
In a few moments, the ship had started to slowly turn towards us, and suddenly we saw it. The skull and crossed bones of the Nemesis. The last and fiercest pirate ship of the sea. I remember I was so scared, I could feel my heart drumming in my ears. I’d heard stories about the Nemesis. She was built like a great white. Her mast towered threateningly above the water and she parted the waves like she had the sea’s blessing to roam it. Her captain, De Ville, invoked terror into the heart of every seaman I’d ever known. He was said to be four hundred years old and the most cunning, cruel and cut-throat seaman to ever sail the seven seas.
THE PIRATE’S TALE
PPart III
The Nemesis turned toward us and, for a few seconds, there was dead silence. Then the roaring of cannons started. One after the other. Boom! Boom! Boom! I could hear them from all directions and just stood there paralyzed in fear. The old man hadn’t taught me what to do if the ship was attacked. No ship had been attacked in those waters for over 25 years. But through the rumbling, I hear his voice.
‘Load the cannon, kid! We’re not gonna go out standing still, are we?! Let’s see who gets sunk first!’
So I started loading the powder with my bare hands. I stuffed it down the barrel, and as I saw the old man running towards me I lit a match and fired, without a second thought. The blast threw me back a couple of feet and almost knocked me out cold. I lay there for a moment, trying to figure out if I was still alive. I grabbed on to some rope to get back on my feet, just to see if I could still use ’em. My muscles hurt and my heart was pumping in my chest. My head felt two sizes bigger. With my legs shaking I stood up and looked at the Nemesis. I could see the mast swaying, and thought I must be seeing things. But then something happened that I will remember for the rest of my life. The mast swayed one final time and fell down with a loud thump and a giant splash which covered half the deck in water. It pulled the sails down with it, causing them to drag across the deck. I could hear yelling and the realization of what I had done dawned on me. My eyes opened wide, growing to the size of tennis balls, as I stared at the stump left behind. The old man was looking at me, awestruck.
‘Kid! What in God’s name did you do?!’
And me, with my legs still shaking and my voice seizing up, could only put up kind of a smirk and say: ‘I done shot their mast down, sir!’
‘You’re either the luckiest or the darnedest shooter I ever met!
Now stop the damn grinning and load that there cannon again.’ So I started pushing and shoving to aim the cannon for the second time in my life, unable to even understand how I had done it the first time when the thing is so heavy that my hands could barely move it an inch here and there. My mind was roaring with memories of my mom and dad, how they were waiting for me and how I may never come back, my mother crying and yelling that she should have never let me become a sailor.
I almost burst into tears but then, all of a sudden, I was shot off my feet into a pile of ropes nearby. I hear a loud crack, water hits my face and the ship sways and tilts and I feel seasick. I can’t make out anything through the smoke and I yell out for the old man. I covered my eyes with my hands and try to force myself not to cry. I told myself that I had to be strong like a sailor and get up, but I couldn’t get the ropes off my legs. I felt like I was spiraling down a drain and that I would never come back. When I finally had the heart to open my eyes, I looked up and saw it. A giant, dark shadow, sharp like a spear. The bow of the Nemesis. She’d sailed right into us.
I pushed myself up on the ropes and looked around to see the Wolf is almost torn in half. Dark shadows are coming down the ropes and I started to pray that they let me live. Soon enough, one of them grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, dragged me across the deck and shoved me into a sack. I fainted.
THE PIRATE’S TALE
PPart IV
When I woke up... There was no dungeon, no prison, no chains and misery, like I had expected. None of that. I was in a sumptuous shi
p cabin, in a soft warm bed. Next to me stood a large silver tray, filled with food. My stomach *started rumbling, as I realized I was as hungry as a pack of wolves. I started grabbing food off of the tray and eating it with my hands, hoping that nobody would walk in and see me.
But sure enough, someone did. He was tall. But I mean really tall, like he was a man and a half. And he had these big, dark eyes that could see right through you. When he looked at me I could feel my heart jumping up into my throat. But he didn’t look like a pirate. Or at least, not how I imagined pirates. He looked more like a noble man. Like a duke or something. He was dressed in a dark blue frock coat and vest. He was holding an ebony cane with a silver plated handle, engraved with willow leaves.
I had a piece of fish in my hand and crumbs all over the front of my shirt. He looked at me and I felt ashamed, but to my surprise he smiled. Not a cold or disgusted smile either, but a warm, honest, “I like you” smile. So I managed to close my mouth and put down the food.
‘Don’t mind me, just carry on eating. I only wanted to see if you were alright. Do you mind if I sit down next to you? Would you like me to come back when you’re done eating?’
I could not bring myself to say anything.
‘You seem fearful. Please don’t be. You’re safe. No one will