Chapter 5

  As Jonathon walked aboard Mother’s Myth, he noted the repairs and work that had been completed in such a short amount of time. Gold well spent indeed. Between the dock workers and his Bosun, Dryden Black, Mother’s Myth was already back to full functionality after just a few short days. This was doubly impressive given her size. She was larger than most ships of her design, and its construction had cost Jonathon every coin he had ever earned, but it had been worth it in the end. He took a moment to admire the figurehead: a woman with soft eyes and long, flowing hair. He remembered how happy it had made his mother when he showed it to her for the first time. She never particularly cared for his piracy, often attempting to persuade him into more legitimate businesses, like trade, but he would always respond with the same argument: “Being a trader won’t give me the freedom I need to find The Spectre.” She would always smile at this, silently concede with a graceful nod, and drop the subject. As he wondered whether or not she ever regretted telling him that story, he made his way aft to the captain’s cabin, where his inner circle awaited his arrival.

  As he entered the cabin, five sets of eyes turned and five mouths fell silent as they saw their captain walk in.

  “Crew,” Jonathon said seriously as he made his way to the central table in the back of the room.

  As he took his seat behind the table, a young woman spoke up, “Sir, you requested our presence to discuss this upcoming…‘exploratory voyage’? I assume it has something to do with all of the extra requests you asked each of us last week.”

  Cassie Reeves, his Quartermaster, was lean and beautiful. Her gorgeous orange curls, freckles, and green eyes made up the dominating features of her face. She wasn’t curvy in the same way that women like Scarlett were, but she had enough where it mattered to turn the heads of any she passed.

  Traditionally, it was considered bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship in the first place, let alone a beautiful one like Cass. In fact, if she hadn’t proven how well she could handle herself on so many occasions, he might have worried about having such a beauty aboard his ship. But Jonathon had never been one to subscribe too closely to superstition, and her talents more than compensated for any superstitious concerns she brought with her.

  “Indeed I did, and indeed it does,” Jonathon said. “Please, Cassie, if you would indulge me, answer a question for me. What prey do I seek more than anything else on this planet?”

  Cassie smiled wickedly at him before saying, “From what I hear, a woman named Scarlett, sir.” The rest of the crew erupted in laughter as Jonathon felt his face flush with embarrassment.

  “What?…I?…Scarlett?” was all he could manage before she continued.

  “Apologies, sir. I couldn’t help myself.” Jonathon’s face slowly returned to normal as the room quieted down and she finished answering his question. “I believe the answer you were looking for was The Spectre. Correct?” She paused and rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated groan. “Sir, please don’t tell me we’re going on some wild goose chase in search of that myth? I know you believe it, but not a single soul has reported so much as a sighting of her in over a century.”

  He had expected a reaction like this, but it still stung to see his expectation become reality. “Indeed I do, Cass,” he said confidently, careful not to betray the hesitation he felt about presenting something this ‘silly’ to his crew. “And sure, no one has seen her, but there have been plenty of reports of sailors finding pieces of her or items from her crew over the years…And you don’t have to call me ‘sir’ in these meetings, Cass, you know that. I’m the same age as you for cryin’ out loud!”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” she said with the barest hint of a smile and a quick wink, her eyes guarded. “With all due respect, though, these reported pieces are likely just junk peddled by con artists in the market trying to make quick coin off the driftwood they found washed up on the shore or the errant compass they picked up off an unsuspecting sailor. Besides, if the pieces truly did come from her and pointed the way back to her as the legends say, why has no one found her yet?”

  “Fair,” he responded, risking vulnerability with his inner circle. “You’re not wrong, most of the ‘pieces’ we’ve come across in the past have had the stench of fraud about them. And if the supposed pieces that had been found really did point the way back to their origin, you would think someone would have found the ship by now. But still, I can’t shake this feeling that this lead is worth pursuing. Besides,” he added, forcing confidence back into his speech, “she hasn’t been found yet because no one has been good enough to find her…but we’ll be the first. I received news from one of my sources shortly after docking last week that there is a tribe in The Kihariel Jungle that found a piece of the ship herself!”

  “The Kihariel Jungle?!” exclaimed the man to the left of Cass. Beckett Tristan, the ship’s Navigator, was a middle-aged man with long black hair and a matching beard that almost rivaled Greig’s in size. Of average height and slightly overweight, but muscular, he had sailed the sea more than anyone Jonathon knew. There wasn’t a trade route on The Stern Sea, active or inactive, that he didn’t know. “That’s madness,” he continued. “The people of that jungle don’t communicate with anyone from the outside world. And the only water they have access to are the estuaries that flow into the ocean. How could they possibly have a piece of The Spectre?”

  Unlike most Navigators, Beckett’s knowledge didn’t stop where the ocean met the land; he also had an impressive amount of knowledge about the majority of areas on land near the ocean as well.

  “I admittedly didn’t think about that when I received the tip,” Jonathon confessed. He paused briefly as he hesitated on his course of action before continuing. “But that’s all the more reason to investigate this. Why would something this outlandish have made it to me if there wasn’t some validity to it?”

  Also of average height and a little more than overweight without the muscle, the ship’s Cook, Thayer Shelley, was next to speak. “Cap’n, it may not mean much, but if ye believe this tip to be real, then me and the boys are more’n happy to serve this fine crew and do what we can to support yer dream.”

  A collective groan was heard throughout the cabin. Everyone liked Thayer well enough, but they also knew how appreciative he was of Jonathon for allowing him to stay on after he lost his arm during a raid a couple years back, even if it was only as the Cook. Still, Jonathon always felt a little guilty for the man’s loyalty. It wasn’t uncommon for a man in his situation to be allowed continued service as the Cook, so Jonathon wasn’t sure what it was that inspired such gratitude and loyalty from the man.

  “Thank you, Thayer. Your unyielding loyalty and support never ceases to amaze me,” Jonathon said, grateful to hear at least one affirmative comment regarding his proposed trip, even if it may have been biased. He looked to the remaining two who had yet to weigh in.

  Simultaneously, they said, “What’s this about a ghost, now?”

  Dryden and Ryden Black, the ship’s Bosun and Gunner respectively, and Mother’s Myth’s newest additions to the crew after her previous two retired. Well, one retired: the ship’s prior Boatswain. He was getting on in years and wanted to live out the remainder of his days peacefully across The Stern Sea. They’d thrown him one hell of a party, the kind that left the docks echoing with laughter and songs till dawn. Jonathon had even given the man the whole of his own share from the prior expedition as a way of thanking him for his years of service.

  The ship’s prior Gunner, on the other hand, retired in a somewhat more…explosive manner. His loss was a constant reminder of the danger of being in charge of the ship’s gunpowder…and of stupid ideas like trying to see how far out of a cannon one could be shot one night whilst drunk. The twin brothers were no older than seventeen and inexperienced, not the best traits for men in their positions, but Ryden showed an uncanny knack for explosives and could hit the mast on a sloop two hundred yards out. His brother, Dryden, while not as naturally gifted, proved a quick study, and with the help of Beckett, who was able to provide a decent education on the responsibilities of the boy’s station, he was proving himself to be a competent Bosun despite his age and lack of experience. They were young and eager–too eager sometimes–but Jonathon saw potential in their raw talent. If he could keep them alive long enough, they might just turn into the best damned Bosun and Gunner on the sea.

  “The Spectre,” Jonathon corrected, “is a legendary galleon filled with gold that sails aimlessly out in the sea somewhere, just waiting for its next captain to come and claim it for his own!”

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  “Oh,” Ryden said.

  “And what’s this about a tribe having a piece of her?” Dryden asked.

  “Well,” Jonathon continued with a smile, more than happy to educate and hopefully sway these two to his side, “legend has it that pieces from The Spectre, be they actual parts from the ship, or equipment from one of its former crew, such as compasses, will, in some way, lead the owner of these pieces back to The Spectre herself.”

  “Whoa, that’s like magic!” Ryden said.

  “Could really pick up some tail with the gold from that score, eh, Ry?” Dryden asked.

  “Sure could, Dry. Ladies for days, bro,” Ryden continued.

  “More like ladies for weeks, bro,” Dryden egged.

  “Or ladies for months,” Ryden laughed.

  Jonathon groaned internally. They might be decent at their respective jobs, but put them together, and they became borderline insufferable, seemingly lost in their own world. They continued like this for a few more moments before Jonathon cleared his throat, staunching the flow of adolescent hormones that were filling his cabin. He wondered if he had been this bad at their age or if it was a weird twin thing. “So, I take it that means you boys are interested?”

  “Without a doubt, Cap,” they both exclaimed simultaneously.

  With that, Jonathon turned to his Quartermaster and Navigator. “I know this is a myth to you two. And I’m aware of the likelihood that this doesn’t pan out, but this is why I took up sailing. It’s what’s pushed me to where I am today. I would like to pursue this lead, but I respect you both, and your opinions mean a lot to me. If you don’t support this expedition, I can put it to the side until I hear more concrete evidence.”

  Cassie glanced at Beckett, then back at Jonathon, her expression softening. “What’s the plan, Captain?”

  Jonathon grinned. “Okay,” he said as he unfurled his map onto the table in front of them. “The tribe in question is reportedly near the coast in The Kihariel Jungle, far to the north. As you may have guessed, depending on how deep into the jungle this expedition takes us, we may end up farther north than we usually travel.”

  When raiding, they typically stuck to small villages on the eastern side of The Stern Sea between Gravenfair and Brightstone, hitting different settlements every few months after they had time to rebuild their stores, or they ambushed merchant vessels sailing along the coast from Brightstone to Gravenfair. On occasion, they would stalk the trade routes between Silvercove Harbor and Brightstone for more exotic wares, though these were rarer expeditions as they typically required a longer time commitment. These voyages were particularly profitable however, as there were no trade routes between Silvercove Harbor and Gravenfair. Older stories suggested there used to be trade routes between the two, but some hundred years or so ago, they vanished as tales of krakens and large, tentacled monsters became increasingly prevalent. Since then, all who sailed The Stern Sea tended to avoid that area. Thus, most trade from Silvercove Harbor occurred in Brightstone. And Brightstone, as its namesake implied, coveted all that was shiny. To the point that many of the wares from Silvercove Harbor never made their way down to Gravenfair.

  “The way I see it, we have three options,” Jonathon continued. “The first is to anchor in Brightstone Bay and take one or two of our jolly boats upriver into the jungle. A tribe needs water, and if we travel up the river, we’re bound to come across someone. Even if they’re not the villagers we’re looking for, they can potentially point us in the right direction. The second is to anchor in Brightstone, find a local guide to lead us through the jungle to the nearest village, and make our way from there. The downside is that I worry about how our crew will entertain themselves while being docked in a city like Brightstone unsupervised for however long it will take us. Our third and final option, which is similar to the first, is to sail north past Brightstone, anchor along the coast there, and travel upriver on our jolly boats.” He paused and looked up to ensure everyone was following before continuing. “The way I see it, it’ll take us about two weeks to sail to our anchor point, give or take a few days depending on which option we choose. From there, I suspect another four or five days to find this tribe, another day to acquire the piece, and then four or five days to return to the ship. From there, our true journey will begin, and I have no idea how long we would be gone at that point. Thoughts? Suggestions?”

  The crew sat in silence for a moment, contemplating what Jonathon had laid before them. Cass was the first to speak. “Well,” she began, “as nice as it would be to have an expert guide us straight to one of the tribes, I’m afraid I agree with your concerns about leaving our crew unsupervised in Brightstone. As for the other two options, they’re essentially the same plan, just different starting places, so it doesn’t really matter which we pick.”

  Beckett cleared his throat and spoke up. “I agree with Cassandra’s assessment here.” Jonathon flinched at the use of Cassie’s full name. She hated being called by it, and everyone had picked up on that fact…everyone except Beckett, that is, who could never quite seem to remember, no matter how many times she had screamed at him. As Jonathon glanced in her direction, however, she wasn’t fuming as he had expected her to be. Instead, she just locked eyes with him and rolled her eyes, seemingly having given up on correcting him. “However,” Beckett continued, oblivious to the unspoken exchange that had just occurred, “unless you have a particular gut feeling about option one or option three, I’d personally vote we anchor in Brightstone Bay. It’s closer, so our travel time will be reduced, and the bay will provide calmer waters for us to anchor in. Additionally, I have some knowledge of the rivers in that area. Not much, mind you, but it’s more than I know about the rivers north of Brightstone, which is to say, nothing, I’m afraid.”

  The other three nodded their heads in agreement and Jonathon felt a surge of excitement threaten to break his composure. “Then it seems we have an accord. All in favor of anchoring in Brightstone Bay and sailing upriver into The Kihariel Jungle in search of a tribe possessing a piece of The Spectre, say aye.”

  “Aye,” echoed five voices in unison.

  “Alright then,” he said, a smile beginning to spread across his face, “we’re officially in business. Dryden, I saw the repairs as I came aboard. Is the rest of the ship in as good of shape as her exterior?”

  “Aye, Cap, she’ll sail through whatever you put her through. No leaks or holes on this girl.” Dryden replied

  “Excellent. Ryden,” Jonathon continued, “how are our gunpowder stores?”

  “Solid Cap. Filled her up just yesterday. You need a hole somewhere, I’ll put it there.” The two boys giggled to themselves at the mention of holes and Jonathon sighed internally again.

  “Wonderful. Beckett, anything to report?”

  “None Cap’n. The route up the coast should be relatively simple. One we’ve sailed plenty of times before.”

  “Perfect. Thayer, do you have enough food for us?”

  “I should be able to make it work Cap’n. If needs be, I can always take one of our jollys to Brightstone for supplies.”

  “Good. Let’s try and avoid that though. Make sure we have enough food for six weeks to be on the safe side. That should at least be enough to get us back to Gravenfair to regroup after we obtain the piece.”

  “Aye aye sir.”

  “Cass?” Jonathon asked, turning to his Quartermaster.

  “We’re ready, Captain,” she responded. “I finished the last round of hiring yesterday after we discussed who I’d selected. The men, old and new, have been told to report here tomorrow morning in preparation for sail at first light. Otherwise, ship repairs are done, supplies have been filled and checked, and the crew is ready to go. Come first light, we’ll be set to weigh anchor and hoist sails.”

  “Excellent,” Jonathon said. “In that case, dismissed.”

  “Aye, Captain,” came five voices in response.

  ~~

  The following morning, Jonathon sat at his table, staring at the map and mentally taking stock of everything they would need and whether or not it had all been accounted for. It had, of course, but there wasn’t really much else for him to do at this point. His crew of cutthroats, a mixture of old faces and new, were all working diligently outside to prepare the ship for departure. Soon, they would set sail on an expedition eighteen years in the making.

  He looked up from the map and looked around his cabin. It was a modest cabin, all things considered. It wasn’t the fanciest on the ocean, but it wasn’t lacking by any means. He had his bed and nightstand against the starboard side near the door. Large enough to fit himself and a companion comfortably, he had the top of his mattress and his pillows stuffed with goose down, with simple cotton sheets dyed the color of wine. The port side of his cabin was used for storage—a few barrels and chests of miscellaneous knick-knacks and treasures he had collected over the years. He also had a small shelf where he stored the various books he had collected. Most were related to The Spectre in one way or another, but he had a few on ship anatomy, sailing, and mercantilism as well. These areas made up the two-thirds of his room nearest the bow. The remaining third, towards the aft of the ship, was his workspace, delineated by two equally spaced beams on either side of the room. This space contained his worktable, a few chairs for him and his inner circle, a wardrobe, and a large standing mirror. The walls were decorated with sconces, with a simple chandelier hanging above his worktable.

  It was a comfortable room, one that Jonathon had spent the previous night in. He had considered returning to The Plot and Plaster and The Sleeping Siren to say goodbye to Greig and Scarlett but decided against it, opting instead to spend his last night before departure in his cabin–a common practice, he realized. Perhaps he was always simply too eager to start his journey.

  As he thought this, he noticed the first hint of light on the horizon and quickly made his way outside to join Beckett and Cassie at the helm. After making his final checks, Jonathon gave the word, and Mother’s Myth set sail toward Brightstone Bay.