Calming the Tides

The Missonary

UGH! this chapter was such a PAIN to write! I hope its not as much of a pain to read :/

E N J O Y !

The Missionary

For the most part, Barbossa was enjoying a very pirate adventure that had all the benefits of royalty. The only downside was the lack of Rum. He got to drink wine at lunch and dinner, but it was not customary to drink whenever he wanted to, like he had as a pirate. So Barbossa found that his favorite time of the day now, was when it was time for lunch or dinner.

Because of this, he often enjoyed his lunch alone, and disliked being disturbed.

Barbossa poured himself a glass of wine, and picked up and apple slice with his fork. He popped it into his mouth and chewed with his mouth closed.

As he was eating, he heard someone approach him from behind.

“Sir,” said Groves.

Barbossa set down the fork with a sigh.

“Aye?”

“Captain. Sir. I am unhappy to report rumors, sir, among the crew as to our destination,” Groves said.

Without turning around, Barbossa said, “Shut your trap and make way.”

Groves didn’t speak, but he remained standing there, intruding on Barbossa’s lunch. Barbossa really disliked having his lunch interrupted, but he knew that he would never be able to eat in peace unless he took care of the problem at hand.

He lugged his peg-leg off the chair where he had been resting it, and stood up, grabbing his crutch to help him stand.

“That’s the way of it, then?” Barbossa asked, turning to face Groves.

“No disrespect… Sir,” said Groves, clearly not meaning it.

He still viewed Barbossa as a pirate. Barbossa discovered he didn’t blame him. After all, he still considered himself a bit of a pirate.

“What do the men fear?” Barbossa asked and Groves looked slightly uncomfortable. “Say it. Speak the words.”

“Whitecap Bay,” said Groves.

“Aye, Whitecap Bay!” said Barbossa and he limped over to the railing to look out on the crew that was assembled on the deck. “Every worthless seaman fears the name, and rightly so, though few know why or dare to ask.”

“Be the stories true?” asked Gibbs.

“Listen that your voice should quiver like a fiddle string!” Barbossa chided him. “Say what robs you of your staunch heart, Gibbs, or forever leave it to the whiter fields of fancy.”

“Mermaids, Captain?” said Gibbs.

Barbossa looked at Gibbs and, for just a moment, their eyes met and he knew they were both thinking the same thing.

Barbossa and Gibbs had only ever met one mermaid, and she was as kind as she was beautiful—which is really saying something—but the mermaids of legend, the ones that were not so fortunate as to grow up on land with a loving father, were said to be cruel, heartless creatures.

“Aye,” Barbossa confirmed, “mermaids. Sea ghouls, devilfish… dreadful in hunger for flesh of man. Mermaid waters… that be our path. Cling to your soul, Gibbs, as mermaids be given to take the rest… to the bone.”

The men all shivered and many of them muttered with fear.

“Steady! Steady, men!” called Groves. “Find your courage, or be ready to purpose your fear!”