The Tower at Sea

The scheme of Joseph Taylor

For a few days more, my fellows and I enjoyed the languid existence I have described, unaware of a growing number of dissenters among our ranks. Joseph was a sly man of sharp tongue, and turned my friends back on me for some time before he was near ready to make his move, all without alerting me in the slightest. For we who had taken a liking to our carefree if predictable life, there was at first no sign of trouble save for the odd absence we may notice concerning the conspirators. Through the drink induced fog that filled so much of our days, we could see not a thing out of place, and all was right with the world. It was only later that we could see our own folly.

It had been a week and three day, I would guess, since we had left port, that the first signs of trouble reared their head. ‘twas, for the most part, in the way he would speak, but also in the shifting of his eyes. At all times Joseph and I would talk for hours, laugh like children, and never have a real fight. This was not so now. He looked at me with hard eyes, and would not speak unless I pressed him. I supposed the long days at sea had been trying on his mood. I was still blind by youth’s foolishness. Luckily for their poor captain, the others were faster to see his ruse for what it was. In coming days, several of my fellows came to me , warily warning me of the foulness that was in the air, I, for the most part, took it all rather lightly.

The air took a strange sort of weight aboard the Marry Ellan from then on, and I alone had not been effected. I drank hardily into the night while my crewmen eyed each other like wolves. None were trusting or free spirited by I, eternally the fool. I was playing into Joseph’s hands, never for a moment realizing it. I never was a match for him in matters of the mind, and this was no different. In a matter of days, he had turned my fellows on each other, and the once peaceful atmosphere was thick and tense, with me the last to see it.

The act itself came in the earlier hours of the night. I had been with those few fellows still so inclined, drinking in the Galley of the ship, when from upon the deck game a great noise, at first a loud sound like a hammer blow, then a scream, followed by general ruckus. My partners each leapt to the knife block, and armed themselves before quitting the galley, while I myself took a bit of time to stumble forth up the stairs and into the awful scene above. What I saw was a hideous brawl beyond words. About the deck was a great red mess, and here and there a body slumped by the rails. Amidst the uproar stood Joseph, holding a pistol, surrounded by a small group of those men I once called my friends.

For several moments, I was not able to except the scene as true. How ridiculous it was, to see my friends, all crudely armed with spare anchors, lengths of wood, and the like, so vehemently rending and beating each other. I was unable to make any sort of sound, which is just as well, as I cannot say if I would have laughed or screamed. My disbelief came to it’s end, however, as a shot rang out through the din, and whizzed with speed to the right of my ear. I knew then to scream, and to stumble back upon the door, staring forward at Joseph, who raised his gun for a second shot. I dashed to the rtight and looked for cover, only to slip upon the slick blood that coated the deck. All about, my men fought and screamed, all taking on ghastly cuts and bruises. Already a number of them had been laid down, dead or dying, with wounds too gruesome to behold. I tried to struggle to my feet, but one man, his name escapes me, bore down on me, wielding a anchor in two hands, as if it were a club.

Without a thought, I sent up a leg, and dealt a blow to his stomach, sending him off balance. He stumbled, then fell, the anchor twisting in his grip. It flew, and caught the leg of another sailor, who at that time was engaged in a battle with Joseph. With a sickening snap, the fellow’s leg gave way, and he fell to a knee. I saw, as I struggled to my feet, a smile grace the face of my old friend. Tried to look away as he held the man down and placed the pistol to his forehead, but I was fixated. With that familiar hammer blow sound, the trigger was pulled, and the man hit the deck with a muted thud, his skull, blood, and other various minutia painted the deck. In a moment, all other sound and color vanished from my view. I saw only the fiend who had once been my friend, Joseph Taylor. The demon was laughing.

There is, for every man, a limit of torment which he may endure. Beyond this limit, no being may retain his sanity. Seeing what was now before me, I felt then that my limit had been reached. Reason and rationality . At that moment, took their leave of me. I rose, hardly aware of my actions, and flung myself into the fray, toward Joseph. He saw me coming, I could tell, as he took aim, and put a bullet in my left shoulder. I grunted in pain, but inertia carried me forward. I slammed into Joseph, and wrestled him against the railing. With my right arm I struggled for his weapon, while with my whole body I tried to throw him over. I had nearly won, but my adversary threw a knee into my ribs, and took advantage of me. He threw me to the ground, and put the pistol to my head. Thought, in that moment, that I would most certainly die. I closed my eyes, and waited for the end to come. It never did. Instead a shout rang out, from The demon before me, in words I scarcely heard through a painful haze.

“My fellows,” he shouted the crewmen, who I heard now had ceased to battle. “We have won the day!” A cheer went up as he spoke, and disgust formed in my gut.”Let us act not as beasts. Take these poor, lowly excuses for men, and lock them away in the galley. We have no need for bloodshed among friends. Make no mistake, these fine boys we killed here were, and remain our friends. We worry on these matters later, but now, my lads, gather them and lock them up!” In that moment, I and my few remaining fellows were seized, and found ourselves locked away.