Okay mates, I have a treat for you!
I was really eager to finish this chapter (mainly because of what is explained in it, and because the next few chapters are going to be huge and action packed.), so I got to work today, and was able to finish it! I hope you all are able to enjoy it - think of it as a gift right before Lady Gaga's new album is released
So, without further adieu, I give thee....
Ledger of The Deep
The next few days were on the verge of being both exciting, and perilous. Every minute the pair looked over their shoulders, across the back of the ship, to see if they were being followed. In between chores around the ship, they each would try to reassure the other that they would survive, but neither of them was completely convinced. This was the first time either of them had been completely on their own, and it sent a shockwave of both fear and exhilaration through both of them as they paused, watching a questionable merchant ship sail past them a few miles in the distance. They learned to stand on their toes, and every time the ship creaked, they nearly jolted in to a run.
Maria had told John that she knew of a man by the name of Hernan Jaenada in Cadiz who would be able to help them, and possibly shed light on the situation they were caught in. She remembers meeting him when she was younger, and before her father's wickedness really burned her skin. He was the head of an out-of-touch branch of the Spanish nobility, believed to have gone rogue from the crown a long while ago, yet still managing to stay away from any imperial or military trouble. He had sparked a rivalry with Avaricia, and was positive that if anybody could help them, he could.
It was a rough time handling the ship all to themselves, seeing as how they had only learned through watching from the corner of their eyes. Still, having watched ships go in and out of ports all his life, John had a good grasp of it, and kept the ship out of many binds. Every day that passed, he became more and more protective over the ship, like it hadn't yet fully clicked in his head that it was his. Instead, the thought slowly progressed in to his head with each rise of the sun, and his sense of accomplishment grew with it.
About a week in to their venture, Maria brought up a subject John hadn't even thought about. It happened as John was standing at the helm, gliding the ship through the easy Spanish winds. "You know," she called from the deck of the ship, "it would be a smart idea to rename the ship."
John was in awe of the idea. He knew the ship was his, and it may be dangerous to keep the name, but also knew renaming a ship was like enchanting it with a curse. "I'm not sure... I'd feel like it'd just be a further burden."
"Relax," Maria reassured him. "I know of a way."
The next time they reached port, a small fishing village somewhere on the Northwestern tip of Spain, Maria grabbed a bucket of paint left out on the dock and began to get to work. She instructed John to go find any logs or journals of Rutherford's, or any of the crew mates’s for that matter, and discard them in to the sea. Meanwhile, she began painting over any carving or painting of the ship's name. "We need to wipe the ship out of the Ledger of the Deep, unless you want Poseidon to come hunting for us." she told him.
Once all previous records of the ship were discarded, Maria removed the main board from the back of the ship and placed it on top of a few crates on the small wood dock. "Well, Captain, what shall we name it?"
John took a few minutes to ponder the name of the ship. He had always been fond of the old ship name, but he was even fonder of the new subject of his eye - Maria. Every moment he was around her, he felt consumed in her swaying, graceful presence, like the scent of her sea-washed hair created a high for him.
John grabbed the paint brush, and slowly and delicately created the name of choice. Each stroke had to be perfect, or else it would not do proper justice to it - but when he was finished, he was confident in his work. He and Maria both smiled at the new name of the ship, as they held up the board to get a better look at it in the light.
Once they were ready, Maria grabbed a bottle of champagne from the hull of the ship and met with John at the base of the dock. She went through the entire chant necessary in the ceremony, closing her eyes and holding John's hand as she recited it in an eerily beautiful tone, speaking as mystically as the Oracle at Delphi. She poured half of the bottle in to the ocean, East to West, and then she and John took two heavy swigs of the bottle. It was an odd taste for John, who had never had alcohol before, but he planned to assimilate to it.
Another bottle in hand, Maria recited the second half of the chant, this time replacing the old name of the ship with its new one. She then poured one glass for John, and one for her, and poured the rest in to the ocean, from West to East. After that, she addressed each of the gods of the winds, tossing a little champagne in each of their directions, as though the wind would lap it up like their eternal tongues.
At the completion of the ceremony, John happily revealed the new name on the back of the ship, for all to see. Maria lightly kissed him on the cheek as they walked back onboard the ship, the Maria Darkskull's name glittering in its red paint.
It was just a few days before reaching their destination that they made stop in a small port town to rest. However, an old Spanish crone, who proudly called himself the Harbor Master, pestered the two as soon as they stepped on to the dock to stretch their legs. Maria translated to John that the old man, screaming by his bad hearing, not asked, but demanded what ship John captained.
"I'm Captain of the Maria Darkskull, sir." John told him, to which Maria translated to him.
However, the old man was poor at comprehending their answer. "¿Qué?!" he roared every time they tried to answer. Finally, Maria violently screamed the name of the ship in his face, but the poor man still didn't hear it completely right.
"CAPITÁN DELMARIA DARKSKULL?" he yelled in question. He began to laugh, commenting how silly the name was, but Maria simply chose to ignore him, disgruntled by his lack of comprehension. John, however, thought over the name as they proceeded down in to the marketplace. He liked the sound of it.
1
May 16th, 1702
Cadiz, Spain
5:50 PM
There was a heavy downpour that drenched the late afternoon, coating it in a rough mist in between the bombardment of water droplets. The rain patted heavily against the gigantic stone dock of the city, which rose up like a great winding hill, far and long away from the bay, to the walled gates of the port. From within, it's magnificent towers, mansions and palaces alike were hidden behind a fog only the likes of the gods themselves could see through, as the rain violently clashed against the stained-glass windows. Waves ten, maybe twenty feet high rose up and smashed in to the long, jagged cliff from which the city on top of, though not themselves reaching the great buildings.
The many plazas of the city, filled with outstanding gothic cathedrals and halls, were flooded with about half an inch of water, pattering up and around as fisherman, merchants, and couriers ran every which way. Even in such a torrential storm did the town still thrive, it's rich heart beating like that on an unhampered giant. In these times, what was one of the centers of the modern world was soon to be transformed in to one of its primal stages, a showcase of economic, political, and military might.
John and Maria sprinted down off the ship as they finished tying down everything, using a few clothes left behind on the ship to protect their heads. Paying no mind to the Spanish guards that hurried them along, they began to sprint up the large stone structure, around it's weaving corners as they nearly slipped between the wetness and the incline. They scurried as giant waves tried to jump over the side of the path, just nearly sweeping them off their feet. If it wasn't for Maria, John would have walked through the rain peacefully - he enjoyed the rain hitting against him.
As they reached the top of the dock, they marveled at the large stone archway that greeted them. At its highest point on the arch, it had to have reached at least thirty feet, towering over the two Spanish soldiers who stood on either side. Two lanterns that sat halfway up its columns illuminated the wide wooden gate, wide open to allow them to walk in to the courtyard before them. It was a small cobblestone square, the palace wrapping tightly around it. In the center was a small fountain, being overflowed by the onslaught of rain. The pair hurried around it, and went right up to the two guards who stood under the little overhang of a small wooden door leading in to the building. "Detener, ¿que van allí?" one of the guards asked, both of them blocking the door by creating an "X" shape with their bayonets.
"Yo soy la hija de la Garcia de Avaricia. Tengo que hablar con Hernan." Maria yelled over roar of the rain. The two guards looked at each other, then stepped aside and opened up the doors, hurrying them inside away from the storm.
Dripping wet from the rain, John and Maria looked down the long, chambered corridor of the building. It was long, with small walls jutting in to separate the parts of the hall, yet no doors were used, allowing them to vaguely see the end of it. The floor, flat and smooth (to the point it was almost slippery) had small black tiles that ran down the middle, like a singular line continuous through each chamber. A wall of windows ran along the left side of the room, flashing the stain-glass depictions of saints every time lightning cracked its whip outside.
As they slowly began to step down the room, the door all the way down the corridor slammed open, and down came it a tall, angry Spanish man. He was tall, a black long coat with golden buckles running down it. He wore a thick black vest, behind it sitting a dark dress shirt, a few buttons undone. As he came closer, John could make out the top of a tattoo, but he was more interested in the glare he was being given than the man's chest. He was a sharp-looking man, a small mustache and goatee on his face. Atop his head, sat a strange hat - it was wide brimmed, black, with a bird's father sticking out the top of the hat.
He slammed his feet as he stopped right in front of the two. He began to yell at them in Spanish, throwing his arms up and jumping his eyes between both of them. John couldn't understand a word of the blunt cursing, but he felt automatically intimidated. It was only when he calmed when Maria held up her hand, and told him who she was.
"...María?" He said, his jaw dropping in awe. "Oh, ¡pobre niña! Vamos, vamos!" he cried to her, ushering the two of them as he jogged back down the corridor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The room they stood in was just a small room with a single, expansive glass window that looked out over the waters that sat beneath the cliffs of the port. The waves clashed high and mighty as the dark night began to roll in on the port, the winds only becoming stronger and the rain only falling harder. The only thing different from before was the escape of the fog, which now let John see down the coast of the city. Buildings of stone hid behind walls just before the edge of the drop off, trying to hide from weary eyes. Yet the tops of the buildings themselves poked over the walls, and when they did, they were magnificent - domes, spires, and towers alike poked up from the grand feats of the port.
They all looked out the window, staring out to the blank darkness that was the Atlantic. Hernan, who fought through an extremely heavy, fiery Spanish accent when he spoke in English, listened intently as Maria explained what had led them here. She told him of the ambush at the pirate cave, the standoff in the mansion, and their hijacking of the British ship. With each word, Hernan just stood there and nodded, taking in every word.
He turned to John when she was done. "You stole a British ship?" he smirked. "I wish one of my men could do that." He chuckled as he turned back to the mirror.
"We were hoping you could explain to us why Garcia had such interests in the waters he ventures - and, more in particular, why he ordered his men to attack my home." John gritted his teeth a little. The mere thought that Garcia wanted his father killed made him want to snap.
"Ah, yes." Hernan took a very deep breath. "I have known Avaricia for many years - longer than how long you've lived - as both a friend and enemy. I've seen him collaborate nearly every little devious idea of his, and one could say I've studied his inner workings. He's very much an interesting man, to say the least.
"Garcia.... seems to be after a certain object in your father's possession. I myself know this because Garcia has met with your father on numerous occasions to work out certain negotiations and trade deals, many of which are much farther than the extent of the law. But this one time, the one in question, your father did not allow Avaricia to have what he wanted - and I believe I know why.
"You see, my son," Hernan took a quick sip of wine from his glass. "Your father came in to the prospect of earning a very high-valued item on the black market, so pricey that nobody even knew it existed. Your father, by some stretch of the imagination, recovered a journal from the Draque himself - Sir Francis Drake."
John's eyes widened, the thought of his father hiding such a prize from him. "The journal of Sir Francis Drake!? The navigator?"
"And the pirate. The scars he caused to this city can still be seen in the rocks of Cadiz." Hernan pointed out, his voice turning a little cold as he panned his eyes over the coast of the city. "Regardless, your father found it. Avaricia wanted it, but he couldn't get it."
"So what happened the journal?" Maria asked.
Hernan smiled. "Balnette may have turned sour against Garcia - but he could still confide in me." Jaenada reached in to his coat, and pulled out of it a small, black, waterlogged journal. Slowly, he handed it over to John.
Shaking, John took it in his hands. Etched in on the leather cover of the book was carved the name "Francis Drake," so steadily it looked as though it had been imprinted in to the book. He flipped through the book, the pages incredibly tanned and thin. The ink on them was slightly running, but still readable, each stroke of the cursive so quick, yet fine and precise. Each page had a different feature to it - a drawing, a map, a course, and so forth. John felt as though he could read this book to eternity, and still never completely finish it.
Just as Jaenada prepared to speak again, he was startled by the loud bang of a cannon. He ran up to the window, trying to see where it came from, and saw a terrible sight. Off on the horizon, an armada of white-sailed ships, perhaps a hundred of them, loomed towards the city, a few already unloading their cannons on the walls of the city.
"Damn Englishmen...." Jaenada growled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Big things to come, mates! Be sure to rate and review!
Thanks for reading!
