Bill followed the pipe smoking man down the cobblestone street of Tuckamore Bay. As he looked around, he noticed that it was unusually quiet. Not a single light could be seen in the village, save for the street lights near Tucker's General Store and the Community Center.
When the man passed the Community Center, he turned down the small road that led to the village's cemetery.
"Figures," Bill sighed, as he started down the short path the carried him to the main cemetery.
The man walked past all the headstones and started walking up the small hill, that was directly behind the main cemetery.
There he stopped and stood silently, puffing on his pipe.
Bill walked to his side.
"I assume there is a reason we are here?"
The man pointed to a small mound a few feet from where they stood.
Bill's mind flashed to a scene in a Christmas Carol.
"My headstone is not going to suddenly appear there is it?"
The man chuckled.
"No William."
"Am I going to be visited by three spirits or something?"
"Three spirits?"
Bill shook his head.
"Never mind. But why are we here?"
"There is someone here you need to meet."
Bill looked around.
"Who?"
When he turned back, the pipe smoking man was gone.
"Just great. Now what am I supposed to do?"
For a moment, Bill thought about walking back to his house and crawling into the big, warm, comfortable bed, but he decided against it and instead, lit a cigarette and sat on the grass, near the mound, on the small hill.
"I am going to have this smoke and when I am finished, I am going back to my house," Bill commented aloud, to anyone who might be listening.
The only response he got was the sound of waves hitting the shoreline.
Bill finished the cigarette in silence and after snuffing it out on his heel, he stood up and stretched.
"This was a waste of time."
Bill took a couple steps down the hill, when a voice made him stop.
"You are going the wrong way, young Williams."
Bill took a deep breath and turned.
Another spirit was standing on the hill, next to the small mound.
There was a familiarity about him, but Bill could not exactly put his finger on it.
"And who might you be?"
"Just a friend."
"Seems I have more friends here than I thought."
"I do believe that you do, young Williams."
Bill took a step back up the hill.
"They call me Bill."
He offered his hand to the Spirit. He wasn't;t sure why, other than it was a natural reaction when meeting someone new.
"And who might you be."
The man took Bill's hand, smiling.
"Like I said, young William, I am a friend."
Bill felt a sudden surge going through him.
"What the fuck?"
Bill looked around.
"What the fuck is this?"
"This, young Williams, is the Emily Rose."
Emily Rose
Bill looked around. He was on a sailing ship of some sort and from the rise and fall of the deck, below his feet, it was obviously on the ocean.
The darkness around then gradually turned to light and Bill could see, that indeed, they were on the open sea. All around him, sailors, dressed in raggedy clothes were hustling around doing their assigned duties.
They seemed oblivious to the two new visitors.
"They can't see us?"
"That would be a fair assumption, young Bill."
"But where are we? What the fuck is going on?"
Bill was scared and excited, at the same time.
"As I said, we are on the Cartwell Merchant Company's ship, the Emily Rose, bound for the port of Boston."
Bill walked to the railing of the ship and looked across the water, at the rugged coastline.
He was about to comment on the coastline, when another voice spoke for him.
"Why have we deviated from our course? This is not the port of Boston."
Bill turned to see two men talking.
"You?" Bill barked.
He walked toward the men, one of which was the first spirit he had encountered.
He stood near the man.
"What the fuck have you gotten me into? Where am I? What am I doing here?"
"He cannot hear you, young Bill."
Bill walked back to the other spirit.
"Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on? I am beginning to freak out, just a little bit, here."
The spirit smiled.
"I don't quite understand the phrases you are speaking, young Bill, but I have to assume that you are a slight bit confused and perhaps a little uneasy about your current situation."
"That would be putting it mildly," Bill snapped back at him.
"I am not complaining, but unlike you, I am not used to be dragged from my home and end up on some old sailing ship, God knows where, with a whole bunch of people and spirits that I do not know.
Yea, you could say I am a little uneasy.
Truth is, I am a whole lot fucking uneasy," Bill yelled.
"And I would really like a few answers."
"I believe that is only fair," the spirit agreed.
"That is mighty accommodating of you," Bill snapped back, sarcastically.
"As I informed you earlier, young Bill, you are on the Emily Rose. A merchant ship commissioned by the Elder of Tuckamore County, Issac Matthew Dove, that gentleman over there by the railing."
"He was the spirit that woke me," Bill informed the other spirit.
"Indeed he was," the spirit continued, "and right now he is questioning the so-called Captain, a scoundrel named Webster, who took control of the Emily Rose by unscrupulous measures."
Bill continued to stare at the spirit named Issac Dove.
"Dove? Tuckamore County?"
It was as though a hundred lights came on in his head at once.
"Is he the founder of Tuckamore Bay?"
The spirit nodded.
"Indeed he is. Issac Dove is the founder of Tuckamore Bay."
"But you said this boat was bound for Boston?"
"Indeed it was, young Bill, but by a series of fateful events, the course of the Emily Rose was quickly changed. That unscrupulous Webster chap had other plans for Issac Dove and the families of Tuckamore Bay.
It seems that Webster found out about the gold and valuables that the residents of Tuckamore County had brought aboard the Rose and he was determined to have those riches for himself and his crew. And the only way that would be possible would be to relieve the ship of the residents of Tuckamore County."
"So this Issac Dove brought me to you so you could show me the history of Tuckamore Bay?"
"In a way, young Bill, but that is not the only reason you are here."
"Then what?"
The spirit pointed to a teenager, sitting not far from them, peeling potatoes.
Bill walked toward the teenager. He stood near him, staring at him.
"He looks like you," Bill commented.
The spirit smiled.
"Indeed he does, young Bill. That is because he is me. At least, he is a younger me, when I was the cabin boy of the Emily Rose."
Bill continued to stare at the young man. Besides looking like the older spirit, there was something more familiar about him.
"Who is he?"
The spirit smiled.
"His name is Silas."
"I don't understand. Why would he interest me?"
Suddenly a rough voice echoed across the deck.
"Cabin boy?"
Silas did not move. He seemed to be daydreaming.
"Williams," the voice yelled again.
The boy jumped to his feet, dropping the knife and potato.
"Be right there, Captain Webster."
Bill watched as the cabin boy ran to Webster.
Webster slapped the young man across the head.
"When I yells to you, boy, you best be running to me."
"Yes Captain. Sorry Captain."
Webster slapped the young man again.
"Now escort Mr. Dove back to the underbelly of the ship."
Silas took Issac Dove by the arm.
"Come Sir. Its best that you return to the others."
They were just about to go below deck, when Webster yelled again.
"And Williams?"
"Yes Captain."
"Bring me that young Johnstone woman. The one with the black hair."
"Yes Captain."
Silas looked up at Issac Dove.
"I am sorry Sir, but ..."
Issac Dove nodded.
"I understand, my son."
Bill turned to the spirit of Silas Williams.
He couldn't speak.
"That is why I have brought you here, young Williams."
Silas Williams