Day before last we made port in the Grenadines, of all places. The crew and me probably raided half the ships in that harbor. It was a surprised I didn’t see a wanted poster with me face on it somewhere on those docks. Still, this crusty ole’ dog kept his head down, avoiding eye contact as my life depended on it.
I said me goodbyes to the crew—strange how a bunch of merchant whalers came to feel like something close to mates. The skipper, in his rough way, handed me a few doubloons for my work. Even offered another night’s stay aboard the ship while it was at dock. I declined his gracious offer, I knew this wasn’t where I was meant to linger.
I took what gold jewelry I had left—save for the Captain’s old challenge coin—and bartered it for enough coin to book passage bound East. That challenge coin stays with me. It’s the last piece of him I’ve got, and it’s worth more than all the treasure in the world.
During those long, restless nights aboard the whaler, I had time to to examine the Captain’s old navigation kit.
Ole’ Bill always had a way of finding his course like he was born to the sea. He would stand at the helm compass in hand, speaking ever so quietly so nary a soul could hear his words. I used to think it was just his gut, but now I’m wondering if there’s something more to this compass and old spyglass. There are times when the waters are calm, and the air is still, I can HEAR that rusty compass singing to me, like a seashell, songs of the ocean.
Land’s on the horizon now—Bayview Bluff. Shouldn’t be long before we make port. Skalebreaker fled towards the sunset that haunting day. If there’s anyone who knows where the beast makes its lair, I’ll find them there.
