Hey guys,
It’s been so long since my last post, (another damn year!), but I’ve finally managed to finish the first draft of a novel! It’s utter garbage at the moment and needs a lot of work, it’s definitely kept me busy!
I’ve finished the prologue and it’d be great to hear any thoughts or feedback you might have on it, hopefully I’ll be posting a bit more consistently in the future.
Cheers,
Jevan
ABOARD “THE SWIFT”
May 1st 1788
Quarter Past Eight in the Evening
The old ship groaned and creaked, but no matter how much it grumbled, it survived all the fury the ocean had to throw at it. Waves thundered and crashed upon it, seemingly ceaseless in the wake of the storm, but still the old vessel grumbled through.
Although the grizzled ship could take it, Mathias was struggling.
He’d sailed the seas for most of his life, the vast untamable ocean had served as his surrogate father and the fickle, wild wind as his mother. There were many lessons in his life taught to him by his strong parents, some more harshly enforced than others.
For example, when the winds arose from seemingly nowhere, arriving swiftly and bringing the wrath of the tides with it, a few men not tied on a line had been swept from the deck, cast off into the twisting depths to be buried in the cold embrace of the deep.
Mathias had learnt the importance of not just wearing a line, but the importance of underestimating the seas and by extension, the people travelling them.
When a cabin boy had been caught stealing, the Captain had broken his fingers. The boy had died not long after from an infection. Mathias learnt the importance of not just stealing from the ship, but the importance of not getting caught.
The most important lesson however, was a simple one indeed.
When the great eye of the sea watches, keep a blade, a flame and your wits close.
“Sea legs struggling Matty?” The young man across from him asked, a grin somehow fixed on his irritatingly handsome face despite the horrendous rocking and swaying of the ship under their feet. Mathias felt his eyes narrow as the man spoke, every syllable that came out of the man’s mouth making him grit his teeth in irritation and narrow his eyes in anger.
“Bugger off Martens, you scraggly little upstart.” Mathias snarled, trying to ignore the little bastard and focus more on keeping what little remained of his pathetic excuse of a breakfast inside of his stomach. “Talk to me like that again and I’ll take the wind out of your damned sails, you can be sure of that!” He had to shout to make himself heard over the ship’s groaning and as a result, his verbal assault lacked the conviction and threat that he had intended.
“What?!” The still-grinning Martens asked, cocking his head in confusion.
“I said…” Mathias began to speak again, but the ship once more drowned him out.
“I can’t hear a damned thing you’re saying man!” Martens shouted, laughing.
Anger, not blood flowed through his veins at that precise moment. It seared his bones and blazed through his body like a poison. He wanted nothing more than to rip that stupid grin of his stupid little face.
“Calm yourself Matty, he’s only trying to put you at ease!” Henry shouted, a gentle, diplomatic smile accompanying his words. He was always the intermediary every time there was a conflict on the small, floating world they called “The Swift”, because everyone liked Henry. Everyone got along with Henry. Everyone could talk to Henry.
That only made Mathias resent him. His caring words had the opposite effect, with each careful, kind phrase reeking of condescension and pity. Mathias wanted neither.
“Do I look like I need to be put at ease?!” Mathias roared, the veins practically bulging out of his head. He pointed his finger at Martens like a pistol. “I’ve spent more days at sea than this little bastard has had hot dinners, so don’t tell me I need to be put at ease!”
“Oooooh! Careful now Matty, don’t pop a blood vessel!” Martens said sarcastically, still smiling that infuriating smile. Mathias couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He let go of the beam above him and started towards the cocky brat, with violence burning in his dark brown eyes.
“RIGHT! I’m going to tear your damn-”
At that moment, Mathias completely lost control of his stomach, vomiting heavily onto the deck, falling to his knees from the sudden shock to his system.
He couldn’t hear the mocking laughter of Martens, nor could he hear Henry’s attempts of pacification.
All he could hear was the muffled sound of waves pounding against the ship.
May 8th 1788
?
Mathias.
He did not know how long he had walked for, or where he had walked. All he knew was that his boots were getting worn, with the battered leather over his left foot starting to tear.
A cave of darkness surrounded him, with a dull red light from an unknown source illuminating a tall piece of black glass in front of him. It was the only thing he could see. He found himself marvelling at its size, its stature. Never before had he seen a thing as odd as this.
He giggled to himself at the sight and he ran his bloodied fingers over it. A soft surprise gripped him when his fingers came away sticky, as though the glass was coated in tar.
Cut the rope.
The voices echoed around him like a thousand whispers, but he didn’t care. They didn’t scare him any more.
Disgusting fickle snake.
A happy warmth kindled inside of him as he plunged his hand into the sticky glass.
May 1st 1788
One O’ Clock in the Morning
With a sudden start, he shot awake, dripping with sweat and breathing as though he had been climbing the rigging for an hour. The watch bell’s distant ring could still be heard clearly despite the many layers of wood and men that separated him from it. The rest of the sailors began to arise, groggy at first, but quickly moving into action upon hearing the daunting call of the bell.
“To arms men! To arms!” A faraway, but authoritative call sounded from the top deck. His eyes flew around the room, searching for a landscape that wasn’t there, attempting to find a peace that didn’t exist, there was only a turmoil within his mind.
“Come on Matty, up you get! Top deck, let’s go!” Henry shouted, scrambling to his feet. Even Martens usual comments were absent in the flurry of hurried movement to the top. Shaking the fuzzy thoughts from his head, he joined the other disorganised sailors to their frantic journey to the deck above.
Amidst the pushing, pulling, shoving and grumbling he finally reached the top, to find all of the sailors looking over the side of the ship in horror.
He pushed men aside roughly, cursing them and staring down any who offered him any resistance. Eventually, after tearing many sailors away, he could finally see what they were all staring at.
An eye.
A bright green, unblinking eye shining from underneath the still seas, illuminating the nearby water like a giant lantern.
It did not belong to a beast, or any kind of vessel, it shone impossibly from the water, like a painting from a nightmare best forgotten.
A single drop of the deepest red he had ever seen shone flatly from the centre of its pupil.
“God above…” A sailor mumbled, the words falling out of his mouth like smoke tumbling from a doused flame.
“It’s watching! The eye is watching!” Another shrieked, his voice high pitched and trembling with fear.
“Lord protect us. I was hoping…” Henry stopped, unable to carry on. His jaw set in place firmly, his eyes never leaving the ominous omen shining from the ocean below.
Matthias said nothing, for he needed no words to express himself. He did not feel the fear, like many of the others did, nor did he feel dread building up inside of his stomach.
He was calm.
He turned to face Martens and not even the sight of terror on the boy’s face could awaken any kind of emotion from inside of him. Leaning forward, so that they were as close as lovers, he whispered in the lad’s ear.
“The eye watches.”
Martens quickly dragged his eyes away from the unbelievable sight in the water and met Mathais’ icy, empty gaze. Marten’s lip began to tremble.
That made Mathias feel something.
A delicious pleasure.
May 4th 1788
Nine O’ Clock in the Morning
The roaring laughter from the men seemed to fill the entire cabin. Heavy, pure laughs that came deep from within, untroubled and unaffected by the daunting sight of the eye just a few mere days before. The drink had flowed, as it was some stupid occasion. A birthday or a celebration of some kind, Mathias didn’t care. It was something the men had all convinced themselves worth celebrating so they didn’t have to remember what was coming.
Henry gave him a nudge, which broke him from his dark thoughts.
“What do you think eh? He might be a gobshite, but by god he can tell a joke can’t he?” Henry said, a warm smile on his lips.
Mathias looked up from his drink, to see Martens bowing dramatically and laughing along with the rest of the men.
It was all so easy for him.
It made Mathias’ teeth clench and his scalp itch when he saw the young man cheering amongst the other sailors. They all loved him, adored him. He had heard them talking amongst themselves, when they thought nobody was around. Only words of praise and admiration.
But Mathias knew.
He saw through the charade.
“He’s an arrogant little bastard, he thinks he’s ten men.” Mathias practically spat the words out, each one dripping with venom.
Henry’s shoulders slumped in a weary resignation, his eyes wondering for a moment as he carefully constructed what he thought was the correct response in his mind.
“He’s not that bad Matty. He’s green, but he’s a good lad… I’ve not heard the men laugh like this since…well…forever! You have to admit, he’s brought us all closer together.”
Mathias grunted and returned to staring into his drink, the low candlelight showing his own reflection in his cup.
A frown was fixed so firmly to his face that he would be a different man altogether if he wore any other expression. He wondered to himself what they were all so happy about, being stuck in this cramped floating vessel in the heart of the ocean.
A flicker of movement caught his eye from within his cup, a flash of something so slight it could have been his imagination. For a fraction of a second, he could have sworn his reflection had aged. A grey, wiry beard replacing his short brown one for an instant. For that split second, wrinkles covered him utterly, his skin hanging loose in some places, but pulled tight as a knot in others.
Mathias.
The laughter made him look up again and to his dismay, he found the men once again applauding his enemy, showering him with yet more cheers.
It was enough.
Mathias stood up, knocking his stool over loudly, shattering the air of frivolity within the cabin in an instant. He met every single one of their gazes. Some looked at him in fear, others with hate, but none of them said a word.
“You think it’s a joke don’t you! Something to brag about when we hit land, something to tell all the pretty girls about when you’re buying them drinks?” Mathias shouted to them all.
He spat onto the deck at his feet.
“Mark my words. When it comes, it’ll come with a force you’ve never seen. You lads who have seen the eye before should know better. It’ll come and you’ll wish you never set foot upon this ship.”
Henry arose from beside him, attempting to put a hand on his arm, but Mathias pushed it away sharply, spilling some of his drink in the process.
“Take your damn hands off me.” He snarled, walking away from them all, making his way to the top deck. Anger and despair clouded his thoughts and rage coursed through his body like lightning. His lone footsteps on the wood rang throughout the cabin, now empty of life and devoid of laughter.
May 8th 1788
One O’ Clock in the Morning
He found himself alone, out at sea.
The rowboat he was in bucked and rocked under the rough waves as though it was fighting the ocean with every blast of its force. He looked around, seeing The Swift getting carried further and further away, it too rocking and rolling under the storm’s wrath. Dim lights shone from the vessel and Mathias thought he could see his fellow sailors clambering around the top deck in confusion.
“This is a dream…This must be a dream!” He spoke to himself desperately, casting his eyes around in a frantic search, trying to understand where he was. His breath was heavy, coming in great gasps and no matter how hard he tried, the air would not fill his lungs.
A great wave rocked his little boat and made him grasp the edge like a vice in order to stay inside. As soon as his hands touched the side however, he noticed they were wet and slippery.
He raised his right hand to his face and even with the smallest shred of moonlight he could see.
It was not water on his hands.
It was not oil.
It was blood.
Fresh blood.
He screamed, but the sound was lost amidst the roar of the sea’s spray.
May 6th 1788
Midday
“You ever seen a sky this cast over?” Henry asked them both, but he was so infatuated with the weather, he could have asked it to himself.
“The weather’s fickle… One minute sunny skies, the next pouring rain.” Martens agreed calmly, with a knowledge he didn’t necessarily possess. He too watched the horizon.
“How would you possibly know?” Mathias hissed the question out with such disdain he practically spat the words from his mouth, as though they would boil his tongue if they stayed in there a moment longer.
“I’ve sailed before.” Martens said defensively, turning to look Mathias in the eyes.
Matthias could see many things in those bright blue eyes. He could see a life mollycoddled, by a loving family safe at shore. He could see a spark of adventure that twinkled whenever Martens spoke. But above all, Mathias could see, clear as day, that this boy had never known hardship. Everything was a game to him, the world was his oyster, his own personal playground.
“You’ve never seen the eye though, have you boy?” Mathias asked quietly, still locking his eyes with the young lad.
“Well I-”
“I can tell just by looking at you.”
Martens began to speak, but was cut short by Mathias’ eyes, which were as sharp as razors.
“You haven’t seen the terrible things that it brings, when the sea is all around with no land in sight. You haven’t seen what men do when faced with such horrors and dread. You haven’t known terror until you’ve seen it in person, no stories or tales can prepare you for what will come. You’ve no way of knowing if it’ll be the eye’s soldiers clambering aboard in the dead of night, or a ghost of a voice you’ve never known beckoning you into the deep with tones so pure, you’d have sworn it was God’s voice himself.”
Mathais took a step closer to the troubled lad.
“The great eye of the sea watches and you must be watching too.”
He let the words linger in the air for a moment, before turning away and returning to the rigging he was attempting to un-knot. Martens watched him for a few heartbeats. Leaning over, he softly spoke to Henry, keeping his eyes on Mathias all the while.
“Is it really that bad Henry?”
“I won’t lie to you lad, it’s dark times once the eye has made itself known.”
A quiet set upon them for a few moments. A silence full of unasked questions.
“What have you seen?”
“It’s hard to talk about.” Henry still stared at the foggy waters. “Everyone has seen something different… they’re things you try to forget.”
Martens looked over, to begin his eager questioning anew, but he was stopped before he could utter another word. The skies in front of them grew darker with thick, heavy clouds. Martens watched them travel at an unnatural pace, swirling from the horizon as if they moved a thousand times faster than they should have.
“Henry?” He asked, his voice quiet.
Thunder roared in the distance. Lightning began to crackle and arc, flickering brightly through the dark clouds in the sky.
“Alarm! Every man to post! Light! Get the lanterns lit! ” Henry tore his eyes from the sea and roared to the men aboard the ship, with steel in his eyes and iron in his jaw.
At once, the sailors of The Swift sprang into action. The watch bell clanged and rattled. The men shouted and ran. The officers bellowed commands. All the while the sky turned from grey to the darkest of black, the sun all but eclipsed by the clouds.
Everyone stood at their respective posts aboard the vessel while the officers scanned the darkness through their eyeglasses, but the darkness had grown even further. It was as though they were in the thickest of night, even though it was noon, there was not a single star in the sky.
It was at that moment, Mathias heard the voice.
A voice coming from seemingly everywhere and nowhere. It was as though it was tickling his ears, inside of his head, yet echoing all around.
We see you.
He spun, searching for the source, but he found nothing but his fellow sailors standing in the dim, flickering light of the lanterns, looking at him oddly.
Mathias.
“Matty!”
Matthias flinched as Henry spoke and he snapped his head to face him.
“Are you alright?” Henry asked, his tongue thick and heavy with concern.
“I’m fine.” Matthias snapped.
All around him, men stood searching.
Watching.
They clung to the lantern’s light like a newborn clings to its mother’s skirts. There was silence, but not the normal type of silence aboard The Swift. Even in its quietest moments, the old ship creaked and groaned, with the waves lapping at its hull and the wind playfully ruffling its sails, but in this moment, not a sound could be heard.
Then, the most horrendous voice permeated through the air, as deep as a thousand cracking bricks and as high pitched as hundred knives squealing against a hundred porcelain plates.
WE
SEE
YOU
The sailors cried out in terror, whirling around desperately in a vain attempt to find the owners of the voice. Every syllable could be felt in their chests, pounding into their bodies like shockwaves from a cannon firing.
“Steady!” Henry shouted. “Steady!”
Matthias was faintly aware of Martens yelping in fright, but only very faintly in the back of his mind. It was as though he was watching a dream through a cloudy mirror. He could barely hear Henry’s calls of reassurance. He felt no fear, only a strange calm. Every fibre of his being was focused on something in the shadows. His eyes had seen a flicker of movement in the darkness.
He could hear sobbing, but not from any of the men, it was a woman’s delicate tones.
There was a rustle of leather as Henry drew his pistol from his holster, accompanied by a definitive click as he pulled the hammer back with his thumb. Carefully, he began to walk towards the crying, taking one slow step at a time. The other men huddled back, offering no resistance when he took the lantern from them.
Slowly, the dim light illuminated the figure.
A pale woman, dressed in filthy rags and soaked from head to toe in seawater. She lay on the deck, with her head in her hands crying, each breath she took coming in heavy distraught sobs. Her long hair was sodden, with water dripping off onto the deck in a steady rhythm.
“God above, it’s a girl! Is she alright?!” Martens asked.
Henry held the pistol up with his fingers outstretched, signalling him to stop talking.
“My George…my sweet George…” The crying woman moaned. Her hands were still firmly covering her face.
A sailor huddled by the others suddenly looked up, the fear fading from his face to be replaced by disbelief.
“That…no…it can’t be…Katie?” He had a lost and worried look as he spoke the words, as though he was about to be the victim of a cruel joke.
“George…” The woman moaned again. “They came, George… They wanted their money…but we could not pay…I told them you would be back here soon…why did you leave George? Why did you leave us?”
There was so much sadness and sorrow in her voice that it made Henry want to comfort her.
But he knew better.
“George, it’s just a trick. It’s the eye playing with you.” He warned, once again holding his pistol in front of him.
“But we paid the debts…I don’t understand!” George said hysterically. He started to walk towards the girl.
“We are cold now George…we have no home…”
“Step back George, it’s a damned trick!” Henry shouted.
“But we paid! Oh god Katie what has happened?” George was breathing heavily now, tears welling up in his eyes.
“George! Step back!” Henry shouted again.
But George carried on walking, oblivious to Henry’s warnings, overcome by his emotions.
“You said you wouldn’t gamble…”
“I didn’t! I stopped! We paid the debt!”
At that moment, George had stepped up alongside Henry and in that very same moment, the woman shrieked. It was a piercing screech which made all the sailors yell at the sudden sound. It drilled into their souls with its sickening wail. Henry’s heart pounded inside of his chest like a drum, but his hands were steady.
The woman lowered her hands finally to reveal the most horrifying sight Martens had ever seen.
Mouths covered her face, filled with rows of sharp pointy teeth.
She had no nose, no eyes, just a smooth face filled with red, sore mouths.
As George screamed, the woman lunged at him.
The gunshot rang out, deafeningly loud.
The faceless creature slumped back into the shadows, her black blood sprayed on the deck.
George had fallen backwards, still screaming.
Smoke curled around the barrel of Henry’s pistol.
It was still for a few seconds, with George still screaming and Henry still standing motionless amidst the gunsmoke. Eventually, now sure that the monstrous creature was dead, Henry jammed his pistol into the holdster and immediately turned to the traumatised George.
“It’s not real George! It’s not real. Just the eye. It’s just the eye.”
All the while Henry talked to the man, trying desperately to reassure the broken sailor, Matthias was still staring into the darkness. The face, the twisted mass of ghoulish features haunted him. Not because of the horror of it all, not because of the wrongness of it all, but because of the familiarity of it all.
Somewhere long ago, a memory, distant and once dormant, now smouldered in the back of his mind. Even though the foul creature was no more, its face disappearing in an explosion of black ink, he could see it still. The gaping, dripping mouths full of jagged, jumbled, needle-like teeth.
He blinked, but he could still see it. He turned away, but he could still see it.
A sudden flicker of wind caught the sails slightly, making the fabric ripple with a dull crack. With that small sound breaking the silence, the rest of the ship finally began living again, with sailors rushing over to help and with the other crew talking and moving.
But Mathais still stared at the deck. He had felt no fear, disgust or horror when he had glimpsed the creature. He was numb to it all, filled with a gentle peace.
Mathias.
He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and savouring the smell of the salty air. He let it wash over him, savouring the serenity that flooded his body. It was as if all of his problems faded away, all of the worries and troubles on his mind easing out into the air.
He took another breath, only this time, a small gust of wind blew his hair and buffeted his face.
Henry stopped his comforting in an instant, quickly snapping onto Mathias.
“Did you feel that?”
Both of them looked up, hearing the sails suddenly cracking and snapping, much harsher than before. The canvas billowed out in a flash, filled by an unseen gale that surged from nowhere. The ship instantly swayed under the force of the weather, the sailors buckling and stumbling from the sudden shock.
“Orders sir!” Henry shouted.
The nearby officer could do nothing more but stare at the sails. A young boy, not yet a man.
“Lines men! To your lines!” Henry roared.
May 8th 1788
Half Past One in the Morning
His little rowboat washed ashore, the wood creaking, almost like it was sighing with relief. He had rowed for what felt like an eternity, but he didn’t question it, nor try to understand why.
He knows the eye watches.
Deep down, he knows nothing in these waters will harm him.
The shore was covered in black gravel, with small pebbles of white dotted all over. It wasn’t until his boots touched the shale with a dull clink, he realised it was not gravel, but obsidian.
He picked one of the stones up and held it in his hand, savoring the sensation of the smooth shard on his sticky, bloodied hands. A tempest ran through his head, a storm of thoughts whistling through his mind. Every time he tried to grasp at one and keep it clear, two more would erupt into being, ruining his concentration.
You killed him.
They both deserved it.
I SEE YOU.
You are where you belong.
“Be quiet!” He shouted out into the darkness, but nothing answered.
He clenched his hands tight, trying to shut out the voices, yet still they flooded his head.
More hot dinners than he’s had days sailing.
SLICE THE ROPE.
SLICE HIS THROAT.
With a roar, his hands tightened on the stone like a vice and in doing so, he felt a stab of pain as the sharp obsidian cut his flesh. He gasped, and for a moment all of the voices stopped. He could think again.
For a few moments he stood there, motionless.
Unmoving.
Still.
Then, with a disturbing calm, he knelt down and picked up one of the white pebbles, only to find that it was not a rock, or a mineral of some kind.
It was bone.
May 7th 1788
Six O’ Clock in the Evening
The storm had blown itself out eventually, fading into nothingness almost as quickly as it had appeared. For hours they struggled, battling the fierce waves and whipping ropes, fighting to wrestle the ship back under control from the feverous fury of the sea.
They were at rest, tired and weary, not just in body, but mind. The more experienced sailors, the veteran’s of the eye, were coping with solid jaws and steely gazes, but some of the freshest men were looking haggard. The strings of their minds stretched tight and rattled by each troublesome visage that the eye brought them.
Matthias wondered how long it would be before those strings began to fray.
He wondered if his own strings were beginning to fray.
May 7th 1788
Eleven O’ Clock in the Evening
“I’ve got you Matty up you get!” Martens grunted as he picked Mathias off of the deck. The ferocious waves still continued to smash into The Swift relentlessly, casting cold sea spray over them all, making them gasp at the sudden shock to the senses.
Once again, from nowhere, another fierce storm had erupted. It had arrived with no warning only half an hour ago and it was clear the men were panicking.
Mathias growled and pushed the young man backwards, making him wobble and struggle on the water ridden floor.
“What do you think you’re doing?! I’m trying to help you, you stupid arsehole!” Martens snapped, nearly tumbling again in the wash of towering waves that smashed into the ship.
“I don’t need help, especially from a little bastard like you!” Mathias roared.
Before any of them could retort, another titanic wave thundered into the side, drenching them all again. The lanterns rolled and swayed violently in the chaos, casting flickering shadows over them. Mathias saw the light illuminate Marten’s face for a fraction of a second and he was pleased to see that behind the anger, the young sailor was terrified.
Mathias gave out a hollow laugh that had a sharp edge. The kind of laugh that cuts deep at a man. His eyes were wide, even amidst the sprays of water that covered them.
“This is just the start boy! Look!” He shouted with a dark smile, pointing over the deck to the next mammoth wave forming in the distance. Thunder boomed through the night, with a crack of lightning roaring overhead. It made Martens flinch. Mathias didn’t.
“Get to your lines men! Hurry! Brace for the next wave!” Henry shouted over the ocean, waving his arms to the centre of the deck. The other sailors began to echo his order, all of them clambering over to the solid furnishings of the ship, where their lines were tied.
Amidst the shouting, the confusion and the chaos aboard the ship, Mathias felt his breathing calm. Amongst the terror of the sailors, deep within the crashing waves, Mathias felt a weight lift off his shoulders. A great peace washed over him and he felt a smile creep over his face, he almost giggled from the sensation.
“Matty! What are you… doing?”
He could see Martens talking, he watched his lips move and speak, but he could hear nothing but the crash and spray of the waves. Sea water cascaded all around them, he was drenched from head to toe, but he couldn’t feel the cold chill of the liquid.
Only a gentle warmth.
With a titanic crash, the giant wave thundered into the ship, rocking them as if the hand of god himself had reached down to sink the vessel. Water obscured his vision utterly and for a second he was surrounded by darkness.
Serenity.
May 7th 1788
Midnight
Mathias was strapping down some supplies in the bottom of the ship, in utter, solemn, silence he heard footsteps approaching. He gave a small grunt as he tightened the last strap and he turned to face the owner of the steps.
Henry stood there, an odd look on his face. His concern was illuminated by the lantern’s gentle glow.
“What?” Mathias asked bluntly. Before Henry could talk, Mathias flinched sharply, twitching his neck over at an unheard sound. His eyes were wild, with his pupils practically shaking.
There was a moment, a brief moment that Mathias missed, where he could have seen Henry harden. His muscles tensed, ever so slightly, his jaw tightened and his eyes grew dark.
“They’re having a drink up top…for Martens and the others.”
Mathias nodded sharply and turned back around to the supplies.
“It’s a terrible shame, for all of them, but even worse for a lad like him to be taken so young.” Henry said, utterly serious, locking eyes with Mathias.
Mathias nodded again.
“You were near him when he went. Did you see it when it happened?”
Mathias sighed heavily, his big shoulders sagging. “There was nothing that could be done. You know what it can be like…when the eye strikes. One minute he was there, next he was gone. The others were the same.”
Henry nodded slowly. “Their lines tore?”
“Aye.”
Henry stared at Mathias, his gaze burrowing through his very soul.
He knows.
Mathias twitched.
He knows what?
What you did.
Mathias flinched again, his eyes darting around briefly before returning to Henry.
“You alright?” Henry asked, not a single bit of care in his voice. He spoke like he was interrogating a prisoner.
Mathias nodded again and silence hung in the air between them for a few moments.
“You didn’t like Martens much did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Mathias paused.
Because he was a bastard.
A disgusting, fickle, snake.
You should have cut his throat, the ocean was too good for that worm.
Oh god, what have I done?
“I just didn’t.” Mathias said.
“Why?” Henry asked again, his face was stone, he sought answers.
He knows.
“I… God, I don’t know…” Mathias started to speak, but he faltered, his mouth moving, but no words came out.
“You killed him didn’t you?”
Those words were like a knife between his ribs, driving all the air from him. “What?” He replied in disbelief, confusion all over his narrowing eyes.
Henry said nothing and continued to stare.
“Look, I didn’t like that lad and he may have needed some sense slapping into him, but I wouldn’t wish him dead!”
Henry was deadly quiet, his eyes as hard as iron. Without another word, he pulled something out from behind his back.
A piece of rope.
A rush of memories suddenly thundered through him and in an instant he was back on the deck of the ship amidst the storm. He couldn’t hear anything but his own ragged heartbeat, but he could see everything as clear as day.
May 7th 1788
Eleven O’ Clock in the Evening
He saw himself standing on the deck and he saw Martens only a few feet away from him. The lad’s eyes were wide with terror and his mouth was shouting, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying.
He saw himself stride over, untroubled by the barrage of waves with a wide, crazed grin stretched across his face. It was a smile of dark intentions.
“What am I…no…” He mumbled to himself, unable to tear his eyes from the scene.
He saw himself laugh a cruel laugh, jagged and brittle as he drew his knife from his belt. The confusion and fear in the young sailor’s eyes made him feel physically ill, his stomach twisting and turning. His own eyes were unblinking, wide and crazed.
“No no no…”
His knife severed through the rope attaching Marten to the deck easily, like a scythe through wheat.
As the giant wave crashed upon them, he saw himself grasp Marten’s shirt tightly and throw him over to the edge of the deck.
The screams were lost amidst the storm.
Only the sea could he hear.
May 7th 1788
Midnight
He found himself back in the bowels of the ship, with tears in his eyes. His breath quickened as he looked down.
The rope was not torn, or frayed.
It had been cut neatly.
“Oh god…oh god what have I done?!” He exclaimed, his anguish tones turning into a wail, his hands rising to cover his face.
“You son of a whore!” Henry growled, murder burning brightly in his eyes.
“Please! God Henry, I didn’t do it! I swear, it was the eye!”
Henry snarled and punched him in the jaw, sending Mathias to the ground in an ungraceful fall.
“You filth! He was one of the purest things on board this damned ship, he did nothing but make men smile and you killed him! And for what, cause he made fun of you?! Cause he joked with you?!”
“Please Henry…Oh god…I didn’t mean for any of it…” Mathias sobbed, tears streaming down his face now, his breath coming in hurried gasps.
“Stay down you bastard, I’m getting the Captain… You’ll hang for what you’ve done!” There was so much anger in every syllable, Henry could have choked on the words.
He turned around and shouted, directing his voice up the stairs.
“Send for the Captain!”
You will hang for this.
Oh god.
You know what you have to do.
Please no.
THE EYE WATCHES.
As Henry breathed in to shout once more, he found all the air escaping him, refusing to make a sound. He coughed. He turned to see Mathias facing him, his eyes bloodshot and streaming with tears, but completely calm. He wasn’t breathing raggedly any longer.
In his hands was a knife.
A bloody knife.
Henry coughed again, blood covering his hand. He tried to breathe, but he began to choke. Mathias watched him with cold, unblinking eyes. Henry put his hand on his neck, only to find blood pulsing from it. Panic and pain seized him suddenly, sending an electrifying bolt of pure terror through his bones. Every hair on his body stood on end and he could hear his heartbeat hammering in his ears. He made for the stairs, only to be firmly grabbed by Mathias.
The knife plunged in again.
And again.
And again.
May 7th 1788
Quarter Past Midnight
“Hello? Who’s down there?” George shouted down the steps. He could see no further than the first four steps. The darkness was so thick down in the bowels of the ship. He waited a moment, but got no reply. Just as he was about to shout again however, a voice sounded from below.
“It’s Mathias.”
“What are you doing down there? Is everything alright, I heard you shout for the Captain?”
There was a pause.
“All good down here, just tightening the rest of the supplies down, I think a few shook loose in the last storm.”
“Ahh, do you need a hand?”
“No, no! I’ve just finished… I’ll be up in a moment.”
George nodded to himself and began to walk off, when he cocked his head in confusion.
“What did you need the Captain for?”
There was another pause.
“I wanted to know who was the lowlife who secured these things in the first place, they’ve done a terrible job. I was…overreacting…it’s all fine now.”
“Well… alright, we’re in the mess deck when you’re done.”
May 8th 1788
?
Mathias.
He heard the voice of many people long forgotten, coming from seemingly everywhere and also nowhere. Both inside of his ears and echoing through his surroundings.
A sea of dead trees surrounded him, their branches juddering slightly in a gentle wind. He was not burdened by reason or thought, in fact there were no thoughts in his mind altogether.
Just a simple, unquestioning peace.
A deep red sunset peeked out from the distant horizon, casting long stretched shadows from the graveyard of trees.
He looked at his hands, to find they were covered in old blood.
Once again, he found his head empty of questions, seeking no answers.
We see you.
Slowly and oddly untroubled, he looked for the source of the voices, but could find nothing amidst the towering, jagged copse all around him. Perhaps more strange than the whereabouts of the mysterious whispers, was the fact that he no longer cared about finding their origin any more.
He cared about nothing here.
THE EYE WATCHES.
Teller of Some Tales 