Chapter Four

The skies above the ship began to lighten and flushed clouds reflected their rosy hue down onto the sea below.

The sun fought its way through, golden and brilliant as it seemed to rise out of the black depths with phoenix like glory.

The beauty of the day, and the fresh, fragrant breeze, was lost on Nathaniel. Day in, day out, it all seemed the same now, even though the ocean still gave him the childish shudder and thrill of the mysteries it held. Sometimes he thought if he could not see that, his heart and soul would have been lost long ago.

As much as Lloyd loved the sunrise, in images anyway, he'd never rise early enough to see them intentionally, it was also lost on him. His mind was awash with possible solutions, some crazy, some logical, of how to end his plight.

"Tell me," he said at last ""if you find the way to break the curse, will I be free as well? And how long would it take? I mean it has been centuries since pirates existed, at least the kind you are, and yet you're still here. I don't want to be stuck for years."

Nathaniel set the book aside irritably. He should have known the man would want answers, want to delve into every dark crevice. But that didn't lessen the annoyance it created. 

"Most likely. Breaking it would mean the freedom of the crew and I would assume you'd be counted." He pushed an ancient scroll across for the other to see. "As for helping, it depends how good you are at picking up languages. The most recent one I've come across is Latin. You ain't going to understand any of the others, I doubt they even exist in memory anymore."

Lloyd looked down embarrassed "I've never learned how to read Latin, I can probably read a couple of words" he answered, but the words he would identify were the ones that already looked like modern words. He steeled himself, his eyes shimmering with determination. "But I can learn, I'm not a person who sits around on his ass all day. I just want to get back to my friends, see my family."

Nathaniel sat back, giving a small snort.  Family had been a sore point for most of the crew, himself included to some degree. He had never had a what one could call a close relationship with his parents.

He respected their existence and, they had created him. But he owed no more than that. They had borne him to a world of pain and poverty, where one had to scrape the mud from the gentry's heel to earn a few coppers. Was that something to be thankful for?

"It ain't too hard to pick up, ask Thomas." He said with a sigh "As for the family you keep goin' on about, you ain't like us. You might have fallen victim to the ships curse but I don't see any reason why you can't send some word to your family. Letters might work."

"And tell them what?" Lloyd asked bitterly. "That I'm stuck on a ghost ship with Casper the Unfriendly ghost and company? That'd be really convincing."

"Tell 'em what you like, lad," Nathaniel retorted crisply "but if you're going to get an attitude then do it elsewhere. I ain't one who takes kindly to that, even now. Just do whatever duty I give you, without biting back and you'll find me agreeable enough."

"Fine." Lloyd bit back the tirade of malicious venom that burned his tongue. He couldn't abide people speaking down to him, reminding him of his old geography teacher, a pompous man with a handlebar moustache who had thought himself the Lord of the classroom and his students' mere servants.

"Ask Thomas if you need any help, he's a good lad and he'll show you what you need to learn. And where you'll find food supplies and the like."

"I don't want to ask for help," Lloyd grumbled, getting unsteadily to his feet. His head was floating from both stress and hunger, making him feel as though he was watching himself from afar, his body acting alone.

He limped away sullenly, letting the door click shut behind him, still half hoping this was all a dream, that he'd perhaps struck his head and he would soon wake in the cosiness of a hospital room or wherever it had occurred. 

Up on deck the wind sang dismally through the tattered sails, whistling with the seabirds who circled above before heading back towards land.

The sun bled through and glowed on the crest of the waves, creating the image of frothing blood as they broke against the stern.

Lloyd paused and gazed over the desolation for some moments. The sense of inferiority washing over him and feeling more lost than ever.

The growl of his stomach broke his silence and he hurriedly gathered himself, smiling to see the familiar red hair in the corner of his vision.

 "Thomas!" He waved a hand to catch his attention, unable to jog over. "I was looking for you. I was trying to find some food, Nathaniel said you have stuff to eat around here. I haven't got a clue where to look though."

"Kitchen is below deck," Thomas wound up the rope he'd been fixing. "Don't get too excited, it isn't up to much, although we do have fresh produce now, it just appeared, rots and then appears again. None of us need to eat anymore. It seems once the age of death passed us then all natural instincts died as well. Don't stop the others drinking though, some habits never fade."

---

When one thinks of a kitchen, they imagine a sparkling clean, white establish, everything neat and tidy and organised.

If one saw the galley of the Black Hind then they would be vastly disillusioned.

Had John Higgins had cared about his given job at one stage then it certainly did not show; insects crawled and dust clung, the smell of mouldering food and rancid fungus scented the air like a horrific perfume.

Higgins himself seemed immune to it and saw nothing wrong with his workstation or the odour that emanated from it.

He sat quite happily in the humid conditions, his once white apron now yellow with age and lack of care, idly scraping potatoes as he had done all his life.

Thomas made a face as he entered and held his breath as long as he could; it was a futile effort since there was no way he could speak without breathing. Not wanting to open his mouth though in fear of emptying his stomach he cleared his throat, at the sound John looked up, his eyes sunk deep into his skull and almost black with shadow.

"Nice to watch 'em rot," he said in gravelly, bitter tone. "See 'em blacken, turn to decay. Gives you hope."

Lloyd's stomach churned as the gaze fixed on him, hungry and almost envious, as if seeking to suck the life from him. 

"I-I can take over here?" He offered, nodding at the surface. "I worked in a restaurant, at least sort of. You can...do whatever you want if I do?"

John stared at him blankly for a moment before his dried lips peeled back and twisted into a grotesque grin. 

"Please yourself, lad. You're the only one who will need to eat, unless the others decide to pull the flesh from you like the sharks they are." He lurched from where he stood, not a scrap of muscle or fat on him. Some of the men had weathered the curse far better, he had not been one of them. "Good idea to keep a few knives about you."

He reached and ran his gnarled fingers over the glimmering tool, the blade as clean and polished as it had been new, the etching on the handle still as clear.

"Always keep ya' instruments in good order. Never let ya' down in work or otherwise." His smile widened. "Cut a few throats and gutted a few fish with this. Seen a lot of blood. Treat her well, lad!" He clapped Lloyd sharply on the back and almost pitched him forward, laughing manically. "Feed her like you do yourself!"

He pushed back, still chuckling unpleasantly as Lloyd stared after him. He heard Thomas sigh.

"Ignore him, he's a donkey, but a bloodthirsty one. He loved butchering fish and anything with a heartbeat. But he knows better than to do that to anyone on the ship, we have a code of conduct around here."

Thomas moved forward and starting pointing out where everything was, pausing on occasion to think. It had been a while since he had been in here and, whilst little had changed, his memory had lapsed.

"Things fade when not used and replenish themselves, you're fortunate that never ceased," he said, opening a chest set in the corner. Inside raw meat sat in a mess, bleeding into the wood but still edible, the shade keeping it fresh for at least a few days. 

"I wish that happened at home," Lloyd joked weakly, pulling back from the smell of the raw flesh. "It would save a lot of time and hassle."

He took up a strangely warped carrot, turning it over in his hands as he thought of what to do. Despite working where he did, his repertoire of dishes was limited. With what he had, he figured, he could easily make a stew. Until he thought of anything more creative it looked as if soups and stews were going to be his survival.

"Anyway, thanks, I'd work better on my own, I think," he met Thomas's placid gaze with a sad shrug. "It'll give me time to work through my thoughts as well."

Thomas nodded. "You know where I am if you need anything," he slipped through the door. "None of us can ever go far."