When Fates Collide

The winds were shifting again. Never before had the crew of the Eye-of-Mary seen such a shift in the currents so out of season. “This is the fourth time this month. But this time the sea wasn’t the only thing to change, the winds are becoming dangerous,” Peter, the first-mate, reported.

He motioned up to the small flag keeping track of the direction of the wind tied securely to the crows nest’s railing, it’s bright green color waving frantically as storm-like winds tried to yank it off.

“This trip is just growing more and more absurd,” the captain growled. “First the whales knock us off course with that accursed hole they made, then the storms blow us miles away from our route, and now the tides themselves are turnin’ against us. This voyage is cursed.”

“Forgive me, Captain, but there is no such thing as curses. Fate, perhaps, but not curses.”

“So yer saying we’re fated to get lost at sea, Peter?”

“No, Captain, not at all. Merely saying that perhaps we weren’t meant to go after the criminal.”

“You know we had no choice in comin’ out here. So you can go tell that fate of yers to take a dive with good ’ol Davy Jones.”

“Captain, I didn’t mean any offense. I merely-”

“Captain! The Trinity has been spotted on the leeward side! The Trinity on the leeward side!” a uniformed official interrupted, pointing towards the direction the wind was blowing from.

The captain looked away from the bow of the ship to follow the direction of his finger. Removing his hat he ran his fingers through grey, wind-blown hair to get it out of the way as the dark form of another ship came into view.

“Men, the time’s come. Man the cannons and prepare ta fire,” he ordered.

A group of well dressed men dropped the tasks they were doing and began loading the cannons.

It was now or never.

They’d been chasing this criminal for almost five months now. Honestly, he’d wanted to give up a long time ago, but his honor and pride wouldn’t allow him to. The criminal they were tracking wasn’t even in his section of patrol anymore, but the higher-ups called all hands on deck and ordered anyone within five miles of his last known vicinity to give chase no matter the lengths they would have to go through.

Now, here they were. So close, yet so far from the enemy.

He sprinted back out of his cabin despite his creaky knee but slowed to jog up the ladder and resume control of the wheel to guide them closer to The Trinity. As the two ships grew closer, the captain noticed something odd about the ship. The crew members at the cannons noticed as well and stopped what they were doing to stare in bewilderment as well.

Other than its worn state and bits of irreparable damage spattered across the prow, the ship looked to be completely deserted.

“Captain,” Peter started, stepping up beside him.

“I know,” he growled. “He knew we were coming.”

“The bounty wasn’t a secret, Captain, and the only early warning he could’ve gotten was from spotting us in the distance.”

“I’m aware. But they’re either no longer on The Trinity or they’ve gone below deck for somethin’. We can’t rule out that someone on the ship may’ve alerted him. But it doesn’t make sense why no one would be above deck.”

Peter gave him an odd look before returning his befuddled gaze back to the ship. The captain pondered this for a long moment, oblivious to the first-mate’s glance, while Peter began dutifully watching the other ship.

Pulling out a nautical telescope from his coat pocket, Peter examined the other ship, noting, “The ship is definitely moving. Anchor hasn’t been dropped.”

“Aye,” the captain murmured, cautiously veering the ship closer to the apparent ghost ship.