Seas of Affliction

The spray of the sea dusted my face as I watched the first cast of light come over the sky above me. My hands itched to cast off, to sail off into the distance and away from the devil clawing up my shoulder to shame me once more. I had been waiting for this day since the events that had imprisoned me on this land that had slowly been suffocating me with each passing day.

I didn’t always detest staying in places for periods of time. In fact, I use to look forward to it. To coming home, to the atmosphere of Minski Bay that was just different enough from any other places on my travels to pull me back in again and again, to have my feet on something that wouldn’t break beneath me until one day it did.

No longer was Minski Bay a destination of refuge but a realm of my own personal hell and disgrace. The place where 138 men will forever wander aimless and confused, floating amongst the currents that had pulled them under from their fiery deaths. And twenty-two others who might not ever leave the chairs that they sit in, unable to shake the feeling of the heavy saltwater filling their lungs.

Sometimes I can still feel the flames licking at my heels, taunting me of my mistakes and wrongdoings, just begging for me to misstep one more time into their red tipped grasp.

Oh, the days that the people I once called friends now can't look me in the eye as they pass me on the street. Those days compared to the day that I captain a ship again? I yearn, beg for this day to begin.
The other days though. The type of days where pig’s blood would be smear on my doorstep as a reminder for the blood I had spilled or the pings of rocks children throw at me in the open, hearing from their parents that a murderer walks the streets free. Those types of days won’t be left on the shore. No, they will be that devil clawing up my spine and into my brain to stir it around once more, it's talons leave the scars behind that wake me at night raked in sweat.

I feared that I would never be able to sail again, to captain a ship no matter the kind. I'm only here as man looking for a little mercy. I can be as small and dispensable as they need me to be. All I'll ever be is that man that drank too much, that cared too little, that couldn't gather himself together enough to do what he was suppose to do. To be the protector of his crew, to steer them out of danger. The man that I am did not if those heroics. All he did was throw them into danger and guided into death. It is no wonder that I find myself alone, waiting to see if someone is going to join me across the sea. There was only one thought that sided itself as another reason as to why no men had volunteered yet. My destination.

Tangia the great melting pot of trade, of thieves, of freebooters, of dishonorable people with the likes of me. It was also a place of cheap trade and earned money. A collection of any and all illegal things that one could come up with, all the black market things you could smuggle in. This is where I'm going, a halfway point for an exchange. Of what that exchange is, this is information I’m still missing. I was called upon for this trip, told the departure date, and where to go. All of it is enough to keep any volunteering men away and in their homes. My only choice would be to sail and dock at Peoria, a small island town only 45 miles away from where I stand, and scrap some crew members off the bottom of the bars and taverns that make up practically the entire island. An underlying part of me knew I wasn’t going anywhere alone, not with the size of this ship, not when it usually held a large crew.

“Theo.” A voice broke me from my deep thinking and I turned, surprised to see an old acquaintance, Burke Puestain, eyeing the fleut ship as he approached with a heavy limp. “Getting ready to sail off?”

“After a visit from the mayor.” I trailed a hand on the railing as I met him halfway down the main deck. “Afterwards, it’s looking like a solo trip.”

“Mayor sending you off on some wrapped up trade? Sounds like he’s just trying to be rid of you.” It was an obvious possibility.

I shrugged, my shoulders feeling much heavier than they were as they settled. “If that is the case, at least I’m being sent off with a ship and most of my sanity.”

Burke nodded thoughtfully. “Do you have a mind to take a poor old dockworker with you?”

“And have you tarnish your reputation as the nice fellow with the limp? Sounds rather risky, Burke.” Part of me was jesting, another part being honest.

“Ah,” he waved off. “If a man isn’t allowed to stew and learn in his mistakes, then what worth would he ever be able to amount to again besides a shell of regrets?”

I swallowed hard, shaking my head. “What I did is outside the boundaries of a mistake. It was a travesty. Hell, I’m lucky I wasn’t hanged for my foolishness.”

“It’s been two years, Theo. You’ve punished yourself enough, as has the rest of the town. You apologized for your actions, offered yourself up for whatever punishment they could’ve thrown at you. And besides, if anything else, I’ve got nothing better to do that I haven’t already done with the forty-nine years of my life.”

“I can’t stop you, I suppose.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I would enjoy not being alone here, Peoria can be overwhelming more often than not, but the first trick is just getting there.”

“Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a plan then, eh?” Burke walked himself up to the foaksul, taking a look at the Dutch ship. “Does she have a name?”

“Not that I know of.” I was never told if the ship had a name.

“In time then, we’ll name her right.” He patted the foremast and I sensed that this was nostalgic for him and only a slight, confusing nightmare for me.

“In time.” I agreed, looking at how unprepared things were for when the mayor would visit before we cast off. “We got some work to do before anything though, I’m afraid.”

Burke smiled broadly. “Well, shall we get started?”