X Marks the Spot (Chapter 1-2)

Candlelight flickered across the aged parchment as a hardened finger paced across the dotted markers, slowly tracking the narrow trail. Where are you? The sullen captain withdrew a compass from his pocket and placed it upon the vellum page, his gaze still locked on the faded lines.
“Cap’n! You’re gonna want to see this!”

With a grumble, the captain rose from his seat. “What is it this time?” he muttered with a scowl before making his way to the door. A grim, musty scent of scorched wood greeted the man before he had completed his journey. He stopped his advance mid-step, twirling on his heels to peer out the cabin window behind him. A blanket of thick black smoke had settled atop the churning sea, engulfing the air around the ship. How did I not notice this?

The captain spun back around and flew to the exit, flinging the door open and thrusting himself into the chaos that had erupted aboard the ship. His crew scuttled about the deck in a frenzy, screaming of ominous omens and bad luck. A group of the men had splinted off from the rest, hoisting themselves over the side of the hull to pull what soot covered trinkets they could reach from the wreckage below.

“Shipwreck cap’n!” A squat man proclaimed, sprinting towards his leader. “Mighty big ‘un too. Looks like they took down a small fleet. There are at least two sloops down there. A frigate, too. Blew ’em right ta pieces, they did.”

Three ships? The bewildered captain stood motionless, observing the wreck in awe.

“The crew is getting nervous, sir. Who’ver blew up these vessels can’t be far. The smoke is still fresh. If they can take down these vessels, what’s stopping them from takin’ down ours?”

Who could have caused this wreckage?

“What do we do, captain?”

“What we do...” A dark figure floating atop the nearby debris caught the captain’s gaze. He rushed to the side of the hull, peering out into the darkness of the hanging cloud. “Benson! My glass!”

“Aye!” the squat man jumped to action, spinning about and darting off to the cabin door. A moment passed before the man leaped back onto the deck, huffing and puffing to catch his breath. “Your glass, sir,” he wheezed, handing the captain a brass spyglass, patinated from years’ worth of work in the harsh environment.

“Man overboard!” A voice wailed from atop the crow’s nest. “Cap’n! I think he’s breathing!”

“Sir, do we take him aboard?” The squat man gasped as the captain extended the metal contraption and brought it to his eye.

The captain quickly searched out his target, locking his sight on a damp mass of cloth, hair, and skin clinging to the charred debris. The mass was relatively still. Only the closest observation could discern a slight bob of the husk inhaling and expelling air.

“Sir?” Benson repeated, looking to his captain for an answer.

“Ay, Benson,” the captain firmly replied, lowering the glass from his eye and snapping it shut. “Bring him aboard. He’ll have our answers...”

-------------------

Diane placed her palm against the chilled glass window, the heat from her hand breaking through the fog of a life now passed. Three years since word reached her ear. Three long years since he was taken from her.

Sails of blue upon red fluttering against the calm breeze caught her gaze. Her fingers tensed and her brow furrowed with each wave the cloth made against the horizon. No. Not three. It’s been far longer than that. The sea may hold her love in her icy grip, but she is not the cruel mistress who robbed her of him.. 

She remembered every second of that fateful day: the hustle and bustle of rambunctious dockworkers unloading their haul; the stark stench of putrid seaweed and the sour taste of salt that filled the air; the way the blazing heat of the midsummer sun scorched the top of the churning waves, leaving an ominous emerald glow atop the horizon. But more importantly, she remembered his face, bristling with excitement for the adventure that lay before him. 

“They’ll have the pirate threat taken care of in no time,” he had said, brimming with pride. “They only need to make examples of those that lead them and the rest will crumble. Once the head of the serpent is severed, the body will wither.”

“And where is this coming from? Why the sudden passion for politics?”

“I don’t know what you speak of,” Edward said with a grumble, shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking the shells from under his feet with each step. 

“You have never spoken of the need to quell piracy in the past,” Diane chuckled, grasping Edward’s arm and pulling him in step with her jolly gait. “Not once have you ever sprouted on about the ‘scourge’ of piracy.”

“They are a scourge,” Edward protested, stopping in his tracks and swinging Diane around to face him. “They are a blight against civility as well as the crown.”

“A blight against civility?” Diane laughed. “If anything, you have been nothing but jealous of them since the moment your ears caught wind of the tales of their exploits.” 

“Jealous? How dare you accuse me of siding with those villainous traitors!”

“Admit it, Edward. Seafaring men pillaging the seas in a grand hunt for treasure. Your mouth waters at the mere thought of the adventures that befall them. You and I both know that you would jump at any chance remotely close to that.”

“An itch for adventure hardly puts one in leagues with pirates.”

“Does it?” Diane spun on her heels, pulling her love to follow. “In either case, that still does not answer why you have grown so fascinated with the politics of it all. What’s it to you about the matters of such things?”

“They are wicked men who deserve nothing but swift justice.”

“And what justice would that be?” Diane asked, looking over her shoulder.

“A short drop with a sudden stop.”

The bitter words forced Diane to stop. Her smile faded, replaced with a contemplative scowl. “What a vile thing to say.”
“Vile? Or noble?”

“Vile,” Diane reiterated, unlatching her arm from his and replacing it with the pair atop her waist. 

“I disagree,” Edward spat, avoiding her disapproving glare and turning his attention to the sea. “I believe it to be noble. Quite noble, in fact. What man of honor wouldn’t agree with that which aligns to the needs of the crown?”

“Aligns with the crown?” Diane’s posture slumped, her hands sliding down her waist and falling to her sides. She cocked her head to the side, her eyes carefully studying her love as her thoughts scrambled to make sense of what he had said. “Where are you?”

“Where am I?” Edward turned, looking at Diane, his face blank from expression. 

“Where are you?” Diane repeated, her gaze softening. “Death to pirates? Aligning with the crown? This isn’t you, Edward! Not the man I know. Where is the man aspiring to see the world? The simple man who didn’t get involved with the pompous rhetoric of politics? Where is the man I love?”

Edward’s shoulders sagged, his chin falling to his chest. He shuffled his feet between thoughts while his cheeks burned to a vermillion hue. “There is more than one way to see the world.”

“Aye.” Diane’s brow arched. “I suppose so. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I enlisted, Diane,” Edward replied, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “I signed the papers this morning.”

The brash knock of knuckle upon wood interrupted Diane’s thoughts. She lowered her hand from the glass and straightened the creases in her dress. “Come in.”

The door squealed open, followed by the quick clips of her father’s cane as he made his way into the room. “Mister Woodes is here. I would very much like you to meet him.”

“I am not interested.” Diane interrupted, returning her attention to the fogged window. 

Her father’s brow furrowed in detest of her daughter’s remark. He leaned heavily on his cane as his hand balled into a fist at his side. “He would very much like a word…”

“I’m not interested.” Diane repeated, brushing the strands of hair from her face. “If you would, please, I would like to be left to my thoughts.”

“He would like a word with you.” The bitter words left her father’s lips in a disgruntled huff. He turned to the man in the doorway, offering a look of apology for his daughter’s behavior. “I do believe you should listen to what he has to say.”

Diane remained silent, shifting uneasily beside the window. She ran her hands along the silk of her dress, each index fidgeting along the woven patterns. 

Her father sighed in detest. He released the firm grip of his fist and hobbled towards his daughter. Placing his arm around her shoulder, he whispered in her ears: “I know you don’t wish for this interaction. I know you want to be left to yourself. But I implore that you heed what he has to say. It is time to move on, dear. I think you’ll be surprised to find that the pair of you share a common past. So please, darling, hear the man out.”
Diane folded her arms and shook off her father’s embrace. She pursed her lips to protest, but realizing the argument had been lost, remained silent. 
Her father shook his head in frustration, turning his attention to Mr. Woodes standing in the doorway. “I apologize for my daughter’s actions.” He offered a half-hearted smile before gesturing for the man to enter. 

Mr. Woodes entered the room in two long strides, taking his place at the front of the chamber before surveying the room and admired his surroundings. He nodded his gratitude to Mr. Seegar before clasping his hands behind his back and waited patiently for the old man to leave. “I suppose now would be a proper time for introductions,” Woodes said as the chamber door clicked shut. “But I take it you are not very fond of introductions.”

A small grin grew on Diane’s face as her cheeks burned pink. She hastily unclasped her arms and ran her left hand through her hair to mask her amusement at the man’s remark.

Mr. Woodes’ eyes beamed at the response, knowing he had succeeded in piquing the woman’s attention. He joined in her game, averting his gaze from the embarrassed woman and directing his attention to the bookcase behind him. He leafed through the titles displayed, his fingers running along the leather bindings until it reached a rather large volume. “I suppose we can forgo that part of the interaction,” he continued as he plucked the book from the shelf and cracked it open. “If I am to be honest, I rather detest them too.”

Diane shifted her stance, turning her head just enough to catch a glimpse of the man in her room. He was a tall man; a confident man. He stood proudly, his two long legs planted firmly on the ground. His posture was perfectly straight, yet it wasn’t uncomfortably forced. He was impeccably dressed and groomed, with his pants pressed flat and his face cut clean. He was a younger man marked with faint lines of wisdom of a man whose youth was fleeting.

“Odd tradition, they are,” he continued, lifting an eye from the book to meet her gaze. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean,” Diane replied, her brooding glare retreating back to the window. 

“They are the furthest from introducing oneself. It’s merely an excuse for men to ramble on and gloat about their conquests. It doesn’t give an inkling of an idea as to what kind of person they are.”

“Of course it does,” Diane scoffed.

“Oh?” Mr. Woodes asked, snapping the book shut. “How so?”

“It’s not the meaning of the words but how they are said,” Diane remarked, pushing herself from the window and spinning to face him. 
“How they’re said?” Woodes quizzed with a grin. “Please explain.” 

“If he gloats proudly and rambles on endlessly, then he is conceited and only cares for himself. If he shrugs off his achievements and passes the conversation off too quickly, then he is weak in confidence and cares too much for the opinions of others.” 

“And if they speak humbly of their conquests but heed the other’s words with intent ears? What of them?”

Diane’s brow arched, her eyes narrowing on the man as she studied him intently. “What is it you want, Mr. Woodes? Why play these games? You have yet to state what it is your intent is. What do you want from me? Who am I to you?”

“Companionship.”

“Companionship?” Diane’s head cocked to the side as her arms crossed once more against her chest. “You know nothing about me. I am naught but a stranger to you.”

“I admit we are strangers,” Mr. Woodes said, replacing the book in the proper place back on the shelf behind him. “But I have learned a great deal about you from your father. More so about your past.”

“My past? What does my past have to do with anything?”

“We share a similar story,” Mr. Woodes explained, his hands retreating into his pockets. “I had a wife once. A beautiful woman; quite clever and beyond intelligent. I dare say she was my better half.” Mr. Woodes’ feet danced back and forth along the floor, his chin inching closer to his chest as he continued on in his prose. “Fever befell her, and needless to say, she didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I still don’t see how that matters to me. I am not interested in wedding a man whom I know so little of.”

“I am not asking for your hand in marriage, but simply for your ear in counsel. A conduit for my thoughts and an advisor to my decisions.” Woodes lifted his gaze from the wooden floorboards and began to pace about the room. “Let me tell you another story. A story that hasn’t quite come to pass. You see, I have been offered governorship of a small island in the East. Perhaps you have heard of it: Roebuck Cove.

“It has been territory of the crown for decades, but has fallen from the queen’s control due to bribery and corruption and has since become the berth place for pirates and illicit trade. Words can’t describe how much money is lost by not dealing with this serious problem. It has become a festering thorn in the queen’s foot; not only are we losing an important trading depot, but it also shows a weak hand to the enemies of the state. 

“I have proposed a plan to take the island back with little to no force. It is quite simple, in fact. We offer pardons to the pirates, bringing them back in favor with the crown. They will go about conducting business on legitimate terms and the goods will continue flowing. It’s the perfect plan.”

“That’s a fine idea, really,” Diane interjected. “But you are barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Woodes. I know very little about politics, let alone of governing, for that matter.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Woodes replied, spinning on his heels. “None of us have a clue what we are doing. If anyone did, they would never sign on for the job. You are a bright woman, Diane. You have proven as much to me in our little interaction. I’ll fill you in on the important bits and you’ll pick up the rest as you go.”

“You aren’t hearing me, Mr. Woodes. I don’t want to govern, nor do I wish to advise. I have no interest in such things. I’m just happy where I am.”

“It’s a fresh start,” Mr. Woodes continued. “A new life in a new world. I think that is precisely what the two of us need. And your father agrees. You don’t have to love the idea. Just consider the opportunity it presents. You never know. You may come to find that you fancy the adventure.”