A Torch to Light the Way

One day, long ago, there was a boy who lived in the lakeside village of Coriander. This boy, you, was the son of the local fisherman. Every evening you would be sent out to collect Shad as bait for fishing that night. You would walk around the lake with his net and baskets, slowly amassing a collection of Shad and then return home. Then at night your father would set up the boat, baskets, net, rod, and a bright torch on the bow. This light would often attract bugs and fish, which often helped his nightly catch.

One night the your father did not return from his fishing trip. The boat had gently washed ashore nearby, torch snuffed out and soaked as though dunked in water, and the boat full of fresh fish. The town searched for him for 5 days and nights, some on the banks and others searching the lake, but the found no sign of the fisherman. With no body to bury, they did what they could and gave him an honorable funeral by boat, In which a boat with valued possessions, flowers, and meats was set alight on the water.

After several weeks, the townsfolk thought to send the you on a fishing trip with the knowledge your father had passed down. So that night, you were set out on the lake, torch, baskets, and rod. With your father's knowledge, you managed to catch a fair number of fish, each going into the enclosed net on the sides of the boat. After some hours, the fish in the nets began to swim together, pulling your boat across the lake. You were dumbstruck, as your father had never told you of this event. As your boat slowly moved across the water, a mist settled around you. Your only light being from the torch which was slowly dying, growing dimmer by the hour. After several hours, the torch growing ever dimmer, the mist rose revealing the clearest night sky you ever saw. However the fish in your nets were not through with you, as they began to push and tug violently at your small boat, eventually causing it to capsize.

Moments passed, moments that seemed like minutes and hours but couldn't have been more than seconds. You had tumbled out of the boat, crashing and entangling onto one of the fish nets. As you struggled to break free, drowning all the while, you eventually managed to cut the net apart and free yourself. After swimming to the surface, you made your way to the boat, clinging to the side and now upright bottom to stay afloat. Hours passed and you eventually fell asleep from exhaustion, when you awoke he had been slapped awake by a gruff looking man in clothing that almost looked sun bleached.

"Ay the lads alive! I told ye he was breathin'!"

The gruff man yells out around him.

The man then yanks you to your feet, barely managing to stand on his own. After a moment, you realize you're standing on a much larger boat than your own, a ship larger than you've ever seen. Another man, this one seeming just as unstable on his feet, stumbles over to you.

"Ah see, I told ye the boy was gon' make it, Darmin!" He says, smacking Darmin, the gruff man, on the back.

"But sir I-" stumbles Darmin in protest.

"No buts!" The "sir" cuts him off, "this boy here needs a little explanation." His speech stumbling over the last word. "Welcome aboard boy, this is the Ebony Crown, the swiftest ship that ever did sail, and im Captain Farcuer Vinton, at your service." He gives a very wobbly bow, catching his hat as it falls off and placing it back on his head.

"Ah I apologize, this is Darmin" he says, patting the gruff man on the back. "He's our night watchman. He caught sight of you at the sight of dawn, just as his shift was ending, along with your capsized vessel," he points over at your small boat lying on the deck of the ship. "Now we didn't quite catch your name now did we?"

As you go to open your mouth, you find that you can't quite remember your name, the exhaustion likely being the cause. "I-I can't quite recall." you say, hoping not to anger them.

"Ah that's alright lad, most who capsize forget one thing or 'nother." Darmin says, patting you on the shoulder. "What should we call 'Im cap'n?" He looks back over to Farcuer.

"Hmm, well I suppose we'll have to figure out a nickname one way or another. How 'bout Pitch, short for Pitchpole which, judging by your boat is the only logical way it could've capsized last night given how calm the water was." Farcuer gives you a big toothy grin and ruffles your hair. "Do you at least remember your age mate?"

"I'm 13 winters old, or at least that's what my father told me." You say, doing your best to sound tougher.

"13 winters you say? Only main-lander's use that kind of phrase." Farcuer takes a moment to consider things, "And where did you say your father was?" He says taking a knee in front of you.

"My father died recently, he was out fishing for the village but we think he drowned while on the lake... We never found him." You say, a twinge of emotional pain hitting you.

Farcuer takes his hat off and for the first time looks dead serious. "I'm truly sorry for your loss, we'll keep you on the ship for as long as you wish, on one condition." He stands up, putting his hat back on. "You will spend the later half of your days with me until Darmin awakes for his night shift. Then you will accompany him on his shifts, your bunk will be just below his and you shall eat at dusk and daybreak with the rest of the night crew. Do we have a deal?" He says, holding out a dirty and multi ringed hand.

You take a moment to contemplate your position. You're clearly in the middle of the ocean, your village is gods know where, and regardless you don't have much to return to.

"Deal." You say and shake Farcuer's hand.

"Wonderful! Now if you'll follow Darmin here below deck, he has half the evening off since he chose to rescue you." Farcuer says and nods towards Darmin "I unfortunately have some business to attend to. I shall see you at dusk when you begin your first night shift." Farcuer nods and proceeds to stumble his way back to his quarters.

"Well" Darmin says, giving his hands a clap, "let me show you to our bunks. I don't know about you but I'm tired and not particularly used to the morning sun." He pats you on the back and proceeds to open a nearby hatch and climb down. The hinges nearly rusted through, as it creaks and slams open you get a strong smell of fish and black powder, with a hint of citrus.

As you follow Darmin down the ladder, you find yourself on a rather crampt deck, filled with cannonballs, cannons, and black powder barrels. "Don't mind the cannons, they're all strapped down so they don't roll about and break things." Darmin says, and proceeds down the nearby stairs.

Upon the second deck landing, you see several stocks of food and mismatched chests with names carved into them, as well as a small galley and tables. Upon further inspection you see that one chest has "Darmin" carved into the lid.

As Darmin continues downward, you see the storage deck, and a deck full of bunks and hammocks. Finally you reach the 5th deck down, which has its own closed door and a sign that reads "Quiet or we shoot!" in big knife scratched letters.

"This is the night crew's deck, theres only a few of us but we don't sleep the best, so try to be extra quiet down here before the afternoon." Darmin says and gently opens the door. Inside you see 8 bunks with only 6 of them containing people, all of which have various guns strapped to their sides and swords hung on the wall. Darmin then proceeds to lead you to the empty bunk then gives you a nod and points to the lower bunk, while he climbs on top and rolls towards the wall.

As soon as your head hits the pillow, you drift into a much needed sleep, the waves rocking in just a way that you never roll at all. As you wake up, you see Darmin sitting next to the bed holding a bucket. You sit up and almost ask him what its for, but no sooner does he grab your hair and pull you towards the bucket, than you begin to vomit your guts up.

"I could tell you don't have your sea legs yet, and it can be hard on the stomach." Darmin says with a laugh, "Now come on kid, we've got work to do."