The Red Tide

Another deafening boom echoed over the starboard side of the ship, once again violently shaking the vessel, nearly bringing Tiberius the Red to his knees. He stroked his beard worriedly as he looked around at his beloved ship and crew. Smoke billowed into the sky as flames were ineffectively being doused on the starboard side. The aft mast was cracked and could fall at any moment. A gaping hole split the port side at nearly mid ship. The tall Captain wondered how deep it ran and if She was taking on water.

Men ran to and fro, every one of them intent and showing no panic, yet he knew what had to be going through their heads. Not one of them hesitated in their tasks, which each of them performed without instruction. They were all good sailors and would serve their Captain until the end. He had chosen them well and wondered exactly what he had done to deserve such loyalty as he had from them. Another thunderous explosion, this one trailing smoke as one of his own cannons returned fire. Tiberius stormed into his quarters to think a moment without the distractions of watching his ship being torn apart.

After years of conquest he was beginning to wonder if he was finally going to suffer his first defeat. Of course, for the world’s most infamous pirate Captain, the first defeat would also mean the last. Gazing at his hawk-nosed face in a gold-trimmed mirror, Tiberius looked into his own sharp, blue eyes. He had let himself get cocky and now it was going to cost him his ship and his crew. Yet, he wondered how they could have figured out his strategy. It was infallible, or so he thought. Perhaps he had just underestimated his opponent.

The attack had been swift and brutal. The Queen’s Royal Navy had used his tactics against him. He had prepared the Red Tide and her crew for an easy victory once again. The last few targets had not even had a chance to fire back before being overtaken. Striking at first light, in the thick fog of the bay, his man in the crow’s nest had not even seen the three ships that surrounded the Red Tide as she rounded the tall rocks that jutted out from the sea. The two warships guarding the target were surprise enough, but when he had started to take hits from behind, he knew this was the end.

With his bright red hair hanging long over his shoulders, Tiberius found the answer to his survival as he spotted the map of the coastline behind him. He had chosen this as his place of ambush for a reason. The waters were too rough, the weather too unpredictable and the coastline too rocky for much exploration, yet it was nestled just off of a major trade route. He had carefully mapped out the entire territory himself years ago and knew every inch of the Bay of the Damned.

As Captain Tiberius Maximas Avery the 3rd, otherwise known as Tiberius the Red, darted up the stairs and out the double door entryway of his private quarters, his long black overcoat trailing behind him, a knew confidence was within him. He lifted his chin to the sky and swore an oath to a deity he had long ago stopped caring about “Ye shall nae have me today, oh ye miserable God! Ye can rot on yer damn golden throne, ye bastard! I repeat, ye shall nae have me today!!”

For a moment the crew of the Red Tide ceased their activity, probably wondering if their Captain had gone mad. “We shall walk away from this men! The Red Tide will nae see the bottom of this ocean fer some time yet! Nae move it afore ye prove me wrong!” Drawing his cutlass and holding it as high as he could, Tiberius knew the resolution of at least surviving this attack was clear on his face. “Now go, go, go and do as ye all know how to do. Show the Queen she cannae bring us down! Show that foolish God that He cannae say when we fall! Full sail, full sail!”

Like a tidal wave, his voice carried over the deck, bringing new life and renewed hope to his crew. They all, like him, had no doubt that they would one day perish at sea in some glorious fashion, only know they all knew that it wouldn’t be yet. “Today we shall run, boys, but tomorrow we shall return!” he screamed at the Queen’s fleet that had been sent to see to his demise.

With his crew unfurling all the sails, the captain rushed up to steerage. He could feel the wind at his face as the Red Tide started to pick up speed. Taking the wheel of the vessel, Tiberius was grateful for the red leather gloves he wore, as the tar-covered wheel pitched with another booming impact. He held on tight as She tried to swing free of Her course and the wheel shuddered in his grip. Even damaged as She was, he was confident that the Red Tide could outrun nearly at ship at sea when at full sail. He wondered if it was madness or desperation that led him to command running at full sail in the most deadly coastline in the world.

After nearly missing several cliffsides and massive rocks jutting from the water, The Red was starting to question his judgment, but his resolve never faltered. The map of the bay, penned by his own hand with his own quill, was thoroughly impressed into his memory. He could see every inlet, every cave, every rock that stood in his way and he weaved around each obstacle with unmatched skill.

His efforts to escape were working; the Queen’s was falling behind. Tiberius couldn’t hear any more cannons firing. He hoped it was because they had lost their attackers. He turned the wheel hard to the port side, ready to make entry into the first of many hidden caves beneath the cliffs that sheltered the bay. To his surprise, a massive ship was waiting there, forbidding entry. A cannonball soared overhead, narrowly missing the Red Tide. Whoever was leading this fleet was good.

Too good.

The Captain changed his direction as quickly as he could, hoping he still had time to save his ship and crew. The next cave was not far. He wondered if that was blocked, too.

It was.

Tiberius the Red was growing anxious. He’d had his own stolen fleet steadily patrolling the Bay of the Damned to prevent just this from happening. How the Queen’s Royal Navy could have made it so far into his territory without it being known to him was a mystery. He had heard rumors of a new Admiral in the Queen’s Navy, but had never suspected the man would be this cunning or could possibly know this much.

Every source he sought for escape was blocked. His own fleet was oddly missing. They should have warned him the moment an enemy ship entered the bay. Yet, there had been no warning and now he was forced to seek out the last chance of survival for himself and his men. He had told his men that they would not perish today and he had never lied to them. He didn’t plan on starting now.

There was one cave that had not been blocked. Oddly, that cave was not marked on his map and he didn’t remember it from his explorations. He had dismissed it immediately, though, because it was too short for the ship’s mast to clear, and possibly too narrow to navigate through. Now, it seemed it was his only choice. Perhaps this new Admiral was his better, after all.

With mad intent, the Captain turned the wheel, heading back for the one cave he was unsure of. The flames were growing thick and he could barely see through the smoke. The Red Tide was not as responsive in its steering as it should have been and seemed to be tilting slightly to the starboard side. Undoubtedly he was now taking on water. Tiberius knew that if entering the last cave that offered them the possibility of escape wasn’t going to kill them, then the Red Tide would certainly become just another sunken ship in the Bay of the Damned.

With every bit of effort that he had, the Captain made straight for the cave. Time seemed to slow as he approached it, and he remembered why it hadn’t made it onto the map. An eerie feeling drifted over him as he neared it. An ominous feeling. The same feeling that had made him skip this cave so many years ago when plotting out the coastline so long ago.

His instinct told him to turn back, to take death at sea, and Captain Tiberius Avery the 3rd always trusted his instinct. Yet, he could not allow himself to break the promise to his crew and the cave provided the only hope of survival now. Straightening his back, the Captain stood almost a foot taller than any other man on the ship as he prepared for what he dreaded was certain death. More than dying, he feared that any who may survive would remember him not for his glorious days of leading them to fortune and infamy, but for breaking his word and letting his crew down. For killing them all after filling them with hope. He cursed at the irony that the foul God above had thrown at him.

Gathering up his last reserves of courage and will, Tiberius spoke once again to his men, not even sure they could hear him amidst the roaring of the wind and the chaos his ship had been thrown into. “Brace yerselves men, fer we enter into the mouth of the Devil”

He held tight to the wheel, his eyes focused ahead, seeing the cave approach ever so slowly. Time, it seemed, was nearly stopping for him as it neared. Ever so slowly everything moved, yet he knew the ship was still at full speed and the crew moving with the swiftness of those caught between life and death.

His doubts about the cave not being tall enough were gaining an unwelcome certainty as he drew closer. The mast would have no hope of fitting under the stone archway and the sense of dread grew heavier. He wondered if the crew felt it, too. From the looks on their faces and the way that they all stared ahead, he guessed they did. He only hoped they had enough faith in him to hold steady and try to survive until the end, whatever the outcome.


It wasn’t until the ship was nearly into the cave that he noticed the dinghy floating in the foggy water. Although large enough for many more, only seven men were in it. One of them stood, holding his hat to his chest as the Red Tide passed in front of the much smaller vessel. The man wore a long, red overcoat, with markings of a high officer of the Queen’s Navy. It was only as the mast crashed into stone that he realized he was looking at the Admiral of the Queen’s Royal Navy. The man stared back up at him as time stood still, his blue eyes gazing up at Tiberius with a look the Captain couldn’t quite place. Was it sadness? Regret? Compassion?

Tiberius had no doubt that if he survived that look would haunt him forever. Despite the mystery surrounding this new Admiral of the Queen’s Royal Navy, Tiberius felt an odd familiarity in the seemingly eternal moment that he looked upon his clean-cut face framed by white curls – the disgusting fashion mandatory for the Queen’s Officers. He knew he had seen the man before, he just wasn’t quite sure where.

His momentary reflection was cut off as time came roaring back to its terrifyingly full speed and the bone-chilling sound of cracking wood pounded in his head. The Red Tide pitched and pounded in the water. His steering had been right on, but he had to fight the wheel, as the clearance was too narrow to guess at on either side. He wondered if it was feet or inches that had kept the ship from becoming stuck or utterly torn apart.

As it was, it mattered little. The mast snapped as the ship sped into the cave, cracking and breaking apart. Down it came, towards the rear of the ship, directly towards the steerage. The Captain’s instinct had been true once again. He had to dive out of the way to avoid being crushed as the top of the mast came down, crashing into the wheel and tearing apart more of his beloved ship. With the wheel now destroyed, the Red Tide was at the mercy of wind, water and stone.

Tiberius the Red felt his heart break as his one true love, the Red Tide, was torn apart. It was tossed about in the water, crashing into the side of the cave, cracking and splintering yet more wood. Pieces of burning debris fell to the water, while yet more flames caught sails and wood and set Her even more ablaze.

Men were dying all around the Captain. Those that didn’t fall into the water were crushed or impaled on debris and several even burned to their deaths. Their Captain had failed them. Tiberius the Red had led his crew to believe they would live and then led them to their deaths.

Staggering about among the turbulent wreaking of the vessel, Tiberius struggled to find his way to the front of the ship. He would at least let those who still lived see that he stood tall and give them courage as they died. It was the least he could do.

At last, he made it to what remained of the Red Tide’s bow. The bare-breasted woman he had carved there was still in one piece, as though She were his sole sanctuary. An exact, if oversized, image of the only woman to ever have won his heart, that carving was all he could cling to through the thunderous wreckage of his ship.

At last, he felt himself sinking as what was left of her began to fall into the murky waters of the cave, could feel the cold sea grip his legs and pull him under as the great lady called the Red Tide died. Salty water filled his lungs as the Captain stayed true to his kind and went down with his ship, a terrible blackness overcoming him.

* * *

The old Admiral watched in terror as the Red Tide went down, Her Captain bravely scrambling to give his crew the courage to face their deaths until he sank with his vessel into the blackness of the cave. The Red Tide was dying and Her crew with Her. Oddly, though, only silence echoed from within the cave while the ship was being torn apart.

He had waited nearly twenty years for this moment, to finally have an answer. He could wait no longer. The Admiral commanded those with him to take the dinghy into the cave so he could see at last the wreckage of the Red Tide.

The light of day was only just beginning to burn off the fog outside the cave, but within it was still far too dark to see, even without the thick mist that dampened his clothes. He wondered why he could smell no smoke from the burning debris and see no wreckage. Had the ship sunken entirely beneath the water?

Even the lanterns they had lit barely cut through the darkness that seemed to envelop them completely. Deeper and deeper into the cave they went, floating on waters that were oddly calm, save for the disturbance of their oars. The Admiral was trying to see something, anything that would give him a sign of where the Red Tide lay, where Her crew had perished.

The cave was barely wide enough for the sailing ship to have made it through, yet it seemed to have disappeared into the blackness completely. Losing hope that he would at last have the answer he sought, the old man fell to his knees in the center of the small boat, his head hanging low. He wondered if there had been any reason at all for what had happened or if it had been simply some mad joke by vengeful Gods.

Still, he commanded his oarsmen – the few Officers of his fleet that he could actually trust with the truth of who he really was – to carry onward into the cavern. He had to know what had happened to them. He had to know for certain what he had done. He had to know that the last twenty years of his life had not been wasted.

As the small boat made its way to where the much larger vessel had disappeared beneath the surface, the Admiral began to feel something strange. His hair stood up on end. Chills ran down his back. His ears started ringing. Something was about to happen, he was sure of it.

The smoke had faded, but the fog was growing thicker. The Admiral could barely see the two men in front of him in the boat. He stood, squinting, trying to see something, anything. But there was nothing to see other than milky, white fog. Like a cloud, it had come over them and now held them in its grasp.

He could hear the men around him, questioning each other and him about the sudden haze. It was unnaturally heavy and had come on them almost instantly from nothing more than a light mist. He wondered how it had been misting underneath tons of rock and stone. The old man was nearly ready to give up entirely and turn back, leaving his questions unanswered. Yet, he knew he had to continue on. He had been promised the answer. He had to know why. He couldn’t believe that he had simply killed them all for naught.

The thought brought a profound realization to the old Admiral. Speaking with barely more than a whisper, he ordered his oarsmen to cease their work. He would not let yet another crew perish along with him. He knew what had to be done. He stepped forward, slowly making his way to the bow of the small dinghy.

“Men, turn your oars, head back the way you came from. I will not sacrifice your lives. I have sacrificed too many already.” With those few words, the Admiral continued his walk forward, stepping beyond the front of the boat and falling into the water. He was surprised at how warm it was. He waited only a moment to make sure that his order was obeyed before he swam onward, to where the fog only grew thicker.

Alone, he swam. No longer an Admiral of a Navy he despised. A former Captain of a loyal crew, alone in a fog thicker than he had ever known before. He did not know how long he swam. Only that he swam until his entire body ached and burned.

Still, the fog blanketed him, blinding him from even seeing his arms as they moved weakly through the too-warm water. His uniform was far too heavy for him to manage to stay above the water for long. He was weakening quickly. He thought he was swimming in circles. His breathing was growing heavy. He was too old to survive much more. At least if he did not have his answers, he would finally be at rest with his ship.

At last, his old body gave out and he lost consciousness, sinking into the deep blue of the cavern river. Several times as he drifted downward, he regained some conscious thought, but each time it was quick and fleeting. Then, all thought was lost to him as his body fell into the blackness of the depths.

* * *

It took the old man a moment to realize that he had not died. A sickly, tormented feeling inside him was a familiar one. He had felt it twenty years earlier when he had found himself on the shores of an unfamiliar land. This time, however, he welcomed it, for he knew he would finally have his answers.

“Captain…” A voice to his right spoke, urging him to awakening. His First Mate’s voice was the most welcome sound he had heard in over a decade. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the man. “Captain, wake up. The dawn is near.”

The old man tried to push his body upright, but dizziness overtook him. He lay down, staring at a wooden ceiling that he recognized all too well. He hadn’t seen it since that fateful day and had given up ever seeing it again, save under the blanket of the unforgiving waters of the cavern.

He was staring at the ceiling of his chamber within The Red Tide. Captain Tiberius the Red was reunited with the only thing he had ever truly loved. He was once again with his ship and crew. He wondered if the last twenty years had been nothing more than a dream. A terrible dream.

He remembered waking after thinking he had been dead. He had somehow drifted onto the shores of a faraway land. There, he had found shelter in a temple dedicated to the Sea Gods that few, other than those whose lives were lived at sea, remembered. No clergymen still practiced there, but worshippers had cared for him and nursed him back to health. He had never revealed to them who he truly was and they had never questioned. They had been good people, those people of the sea.

Before long, he had realized that somehow, something about the world that he thought he’d known just wasn’t right. When he had been found by the folk at the sea temple, he had been found twenty years before the sinking of his ship. Over the course of the next few months he had suffered from several visions. The forgotten Sea Gods had given him a task, though he knew not why. He had been given a task that he hadn’t been sure, at the time, that he could accomplish.

Yet accomplish it, he did. The once famous pirate had managed to join with the Royal Navy of a Queen that he despised. It had not taken him long to race through the ranks and eventually found himself Captain of the Queen’s own flagship. It had been odd, becoming such a renowned figure, living a lie of a life. He had been a pirate at heart, forced into hunting down his own kind. Years of knowledge had given him an advantage and it was in discussing his strategies of capturing pirates that the Queen had made him an Admiral.

She had been confident that he could end their “scourge” altogether and he had, indeed, done so. Only a few real pirate threats remained. Most were easily defeated. He had saved the greatest pirate for last, however. Tiberius the Red, the most feared and infamous pirate the seas had ever known. Thus, it had been with haunting memory of that day that the old Admiral had set his trap and forced the pirate – forced himself – into the cave.

Now, having wakened with his crew surrounding him and his ship whole, the fearsome old pirate was back, aged twenty years after living the same years twice. He could not explain how such a thing was possible, only that the task the forgotten Sea Gods had given to him now was complete.

“Are you ok, Captain?” the First Mate asked, “you said to wake you early.” As the dizziness passed and Tiberius at last managed to pull himself up, he felt his strength returning. More strength than he’d had in many years. He sat up and looked out the small window at his bedside. His reflection startled him. He was not old as he had expected himself to be. He was no older than the day his ship had sunk to the bottom of a cavern that had been blessed by the Gods of the Sea.

“Captain?”

In answer, the Captain simply grinned at his First Mate. Leaping from his bed, he welcomed his rejuvenated vigor. “Daggart,” he spoke, “today be a good day!” Get the men ready, I want all of them swine atop the deck ‘afore I get there!” With his command, the First Mate nodded and left the Captain’s Chamber. Tiberius the Red took a moment then to do something he hadn’t done in twenty years, twice over.

He prayed.

Once his meditation was complete, he took the walk to the outside, opening doors to the salty-sweet smell of the sea and the glorious misty air. It was still dark and the fog still hung heavily over the water, but he could see that his loyal crew had all been gathered as he had asked. Today, he had been given a second chance. Today, things would be different.

“Men, I want ta thank ye all fer the loyalty that ye’ve shown me o’er the years. Today, we are nae gonna raid and pillage.” At that, the men let out a solemn sigh, near to disappointment. “Don’t ye worry, though, mateys! Fer today, we will nae plunder a thing, but today we celebrate! Today, we remember! Fer we are sailors in a vast ocean, all of us. But we are nae alone. And we are nae lost. And we are nae forsaken!” He grinned as he spoke, knowing at last that the Gods were smiling down upon him.

“Today men, we celebrate our lives as pirates. Today, we thank those who honor us with their bounty. Today, we honor the Gods of the Sea!” He emphasized the last, knowing that the forgotten Gods would be forgotten no longer.

All day, the crew celebrated and roared a hundred oaths to the Sea Gods and their many blessings. The Captain watched them proudly, yet distantly. He knew that he had lived another life and had somehow come full circle. He had awakened the very morning that his ship and crew should have been destroyed. Yet, the Gods of the Sea had given him another chance. As he wondered if the Queen’s new Admiral was a spitting image of himself. He proudly hoped he’d never find out and swore to let not a day go by without asking the blessing of those who had been forgotten.