Crash! The side of the ship erupted, sending shards of timber all over, some digging into Eric’s skin. At least it wasn’t the cannonball digging into his skin, the oarsmen several rows ahead suffered that fate.

“Row blast you, row!” shouted the shipmaster, brushing dust off his uniform. “The pirates will be no better to you lot than to us!” True as those words might have been, it hardly inspired the weary oarsmen. 'Maybe we wouldn’t be so tired,' thought Eric, 'if they’d take the chains off while we row.'

Being shanghaied to toil under the reign of a brutal captain driven mad by the lucrative spice trade was hardly Eric’s career of choice. “I kinda wisht I had made someptin of meself back in school, always wanted ta be un of them schoolmasters,” he had been telling his friend at the tavern that unfortunate night. “But as me marks was so bad, I hada go work out here on the docks ta help me family, my little bruder was always da smart un.” Eric’s friend had stopped listening some time before, on account of the five pints of bitter that had put him into a blissful blackout, but the four pints in Eric had had stopped him from noticing. They chose the wrong pub to drink in that night, and woke up with not only a raging hangover, but also chained below the decks of The Behemoth.

Crunch! Cannon fire tore open another hole some rows behind Eric. The pirates were firing chain shot, trying to take down the mast and incapacitate the ship, but missing. Of course, this was why the Captain employed slave labor in the pits of the ship; in his lust for profits he refused to take shelter during adverse winds, whipping his chained oarsmen into continually maintaining forward momentum. But they also came in handy to give that extra boost of speed during encounters with pirates. Or the law for that matter, they were not particularly fond of The Behemoth.

Shouts came from above the hatch, barely reaching the shipmaster’s ears over the din. Whatever was said, it was obviously upsetting news, as he broke out the whip. “Faster you curs,” he roared, “we need to pull away from their broadside!”

Cannon fire reverberated through the ship, rocking it as The Behemoth’s cannons returned volley. Eric heard the far off guns of the pirate ship fire again. There was a crack above, a long, sickening creak, and a resounding thud as the mast fell like a toppled tree.

“All hands on deck, prepare to resist boarding!” The words echoed down from above, breaking through the cacophony below decks. The shipmaster whipped a few more oarsmen just for good measure before dropping it in favor of his pistol and saber, vaulting up the stairs.

There was some hesitation on the part of the oarsmen. Nobody wanted to keep rowing now that they weren’t being watched, but if the crew survived this pirate attack and noticed that they had stopped moving during the battle, there would be hell to pay. The prospects of seeing the pirates win looked just about as bleak.

Eric continued to row half-heartedly. He had been on this ship for somewhere around two years, but he wasn’t positive as he hadn’t been able to keep track of the passage of time very well. One day blended into the next, broken by the morning gruel, a day of labor, the evening gruel, and a few hours of sleep in the unwholesome quarters of the brig. His tavern friend had been killed in the first couple months when he came down with scurvy and was unable to keep rowing. Rather than making any attempt to care for him, the guards threw him overboard and captured another unwitting tavern patron in the next port. Eric survived this long through working hard enough not to be noticed, but not so hard as to kill himself, and he wasn’t about to change this now.

The cannons had stopped firing and the sounds of battle made their way down the stairs. Guns were fired, blade met blade in great clashes, and men screamed their last as the battle raged above the shackled slaves.

The fight didn’t last too long, but it felt like an eternity for those waiting in their chains. They were apprehensive over just who would come down those stairs and what would happen when they did. They couldn’t expect a pat on the back from their captors for rowing, maybe some whips on the back at best, and at worst an angry captain out to quell his rage with blood. Pirates didn’t exactly have the best reputation either though, so most of the crew leaned towards taking the punishments they knew over dangers unknown.

The sound died down above deck. Shouts were heard in unfamiliar voices. The prisoners could only await their fates. Eric prayed.

Feet started plodding methodically, slowly down the stairs, each thump instilling greater fear into the waiting crowd. Heavy boots appeared, followed by ragged pantaloons, a blood stained shirt, and a scarred face. The pirate emotionlessly surveyed them, and then walked back up the stairs.

Would they just leave them here, chained to the oars, rotting in a ghost ship? Forsaking all inhibition, Eric cried out, but it was useless, the pirate stomped back up the stairs, leaving them in the murky darkness, which had just become infinitely more oppressive. The whole room began to cry out along with Eric, pleading for clemency, for release, for death, for anything but being abandoned.

Soon after, a gang of pirates came down the stairs. The awaiting oarsmen went silent. The original pirate, now equipped with a key, began to open the cuffs of each man. As he did so, the largest one announced, “We’ll be keeping this orderly, now get above decks and line up!”

Eric waited his turn to be released and, watched carefully by the pirates who kept their cutlasses bared, ascended the steps. Light. Real, honest-to-goodness sunlight shone down on him as he neared the hatch leading to the top deck. He had hardly seen the sun since capture. Eric stepped out onto the deck, squinting yet reveling in the pain. It obliterated his fears and washed away his apprehension. He didn’t worry about what the pirates would do to him; he had seen the sun one last time.

There were more pirates on deck, pushing the last of the corpses over board and beginning the process of moving the loot to their ship, which was firmly attached to The Behemoth now. The pirate ship’s double masts soared high above deck, bearing black sails and a blacker flag emblazoned with the skull and crossbones. Just below the bones the pirates had written the name of their ship in white; Suresea. 'Not even as ominous as The Behemoth,' Eric thought, watching as the Captain’s bloated body was shoved into the sea.

The pirates guided them into three files, each stretching the length of the foredeck. They waited.

The pirate captain marched across the hastily erected gangway connecting the ships. There was no mistaking his command of this group. Heavy leather boots rang the timbers as he strode purposefully up to the captured prisoners. Pants that looked salvaged from a wealthy merchant were mostly obscured by the long, black overcoat. Out of the left arm stuck a glimmering, steel hook. He had a long, red beard, and wild hair capped with a black tricorne hat. One eye was missing, covered by a black eye-patch, while his other shone bright blue, surveying and assessing everything it saw in a glance.

He strode up and down the line, his eye peering into each of the captives. Eric looked down when confronted, unable to meet that steely gaze. He stopped his pacing in the center, and cleared his voice. “Me crew has been after this prize for some time now, we knew The Behemoth’s wealth, but we nary know 'at we’d find you lot. It’s best we did.” The prisoners looked at each other, confused.

The pirate captain let out a hearty laugh at the prisoners’ nerves. “Worry yerselves not, each of ye shall be given a fair portion of this ship’s bounty, and free passage to any port ye wish, either with the Suresea or with a friend. Or, ye also be welcome to join me crew permanently. Yer all free men.”

It took a moment for the impact of this statement to sink in, but when it did tears broke out. Eric was dumbfounded, unable to comprehend this act of magnanimity. Speaking for the whole, he stuttered out between sobs, “Who… who… who be you, sir?”

The pirate captain had begun to turn around and march back to his ship, but looked back and regarded Eric. He smiled. “Me crew calls me Robin Hook.”

It seems it doesn’t matter where you go or what you do, sooner or later someone is always going to show up with a smug grin and an impressive beard and try and ruin whatever good thing it is that you’ve got going.
I’ve been living in The Fish for about a year now, just me and Nancy. We both fell overboard from a Greek trade ship during a terrible storm. I was a slave and she was the captains wife. A fairytale.
The rain had been beating down for three days and those of us unlucky enough to be packed into the hold had hardly slept the entire time. I suppose they must have been running out of men on deck because on the fourth day we were all freed from the hold and ordered to help man the ship. We didn’t last long before a huge wave struck portside and washed half the crew overboard.
I don’t know what happened to the rest of the ship but somehow Nancy and me ended up clinging to the same wooden chest. We floated along, fighting for breath against the suffocating rain all through the night until suddenly we were staring straight into the cavernous mouth of the beast. As we swam desperately against the current and the mouth closed around us I was sure we were finished.
When I opened my eyes Nancy was kissing me. At first I thought I was in heaven but when I realised I was alive I couldn’t believe my luck, she’s a very buxom young lady and the sort of girl that would never normally have looked at me twice, even when I still had all my teeth.
”˜We’re alive! We’re alive!’ She was screaming excitedly. I looked around me and realised we were inside the belly of the beast. Safe and sound. Dry as a bone. To top it all off the chest we had been clinging was full to the brim with lanterns and lamp oil. Nancy had lit two lanterns before even awaking me.
Together we decorated the place as best we could. During the days we would wander around The Fish’s stomach looking for anything useful that The Fish might have swallowed. We spent our evenings talking, learning about each other and falling more and more deeply in love. That sort of intense experience makes for a passionate relationship. We ate mostly fish, as you can imagine, but we did our best to keep things interesting. They were the happiest days of my life so far. Much better than when I was a slave.
Obviously I must have been a swine in a past life because almost a year to the day after we first washed up inside The Fish we were burdened with a guest.
”˜Hello?’ We heard the echo throughout the vast stomach we called our home. A man’s voice.
”˜Wait here.’ I told Nancy.
”˜No, I want to see!’ She replied, a little too eagerly for my liking. I picked up one of the lanterns and cautiously sneaked closer to the voice with Nancy behind me.
Suddenly our intruder came into view and as the light from my lantern fell across his body I felt Nancy’s grip around my arm tighten, then release me entirely. The man looked a year or two younger than me but had a long white beard and a solid looking six pack.
”˜Well hello!’ He said, a smirk on his face and his hands on his hips. Nancy giggled.
”˜Hello.’ She answered, blushing.
”˜Don’t answer him Nancy, he might be a demon.’ I snapped.
”˜Well, I see my reputation has preceded me once again.’ He quipped, running his fingers through his beard. Nancy giggled again. I didn’t like this guy.
”˜Who are you and what are you doing here?’
”˜I’m Jonah,’ he replied, ”˜and the last thing I remember is throwing myself overboard from my ship during a storm, sacrificing myself to save the rest of the crew. I swam for my life until suddenly I was swallowed up into darkness. The next thing I knew I was stood here talking to you.’ Everything he said had an air of arrogance about it. I really didn’t like him.
”˜You sacrificed yourself? But why?’ Nancy asked. She was eating it all up.
”˜It was the only way to stop the storm, baby. God spoke to me and told me to go to Nineveh. I said “No way pal, I’m going to Jaffa to get some of those famous cakes!” I went against his will, I’m kind of a maverick like that. You think God’s going to sit back and let me walk all over him? No way. The big guy’s got plans for all of us. He’s not going to rest until I go to Nineveh and that’s why he nearly sank my ship. If I hadn’t thrown myself overboard every Tom, Dick and Harry on board would be fish food just like us.’
”˜Wow! You’re so brave! You’re a hero!’ Nancy ran over, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He pulled her waist into his and kissed her. She kissed him back until she remembered I was there and pulled away, embarrassed.
”˜Seems like if you were a real hero you would never have endangered the crew’s lives in the first place by going against the word of God.’ I felt pretty clever for a man who had just watched the love of his life kiss another man right in front of him.
”˜Whoa, whoa, whoa! I never said I was a hero, buddy. Those were your girlfriend’s words. I said maverick. But now that you mention it, yeah, I suppose I am a hero. Thanks buddy. Now, what do you guys have to eat around here? All I’ve eaten for weeks is fish.’
Two days passed and I got more and more sick of Jonah’s stories. He boasted constantly about how he was a prophet sent by God, how he was a hero. He kept sending me off to fetch more fish from the base of The Fish’s stomach and whenever I returned he and Nancy were both red faced and flustered.
”˜Why don’t you come help me fetch the fish, Jonah’, I would say.
”˜Don’t want to cramp your style, buddy,”˜ He’d respond, ”˜besides, someone’s got to keep on eye on sweet cheeks over here.’
I wanted to kill him but I was scared that if I tried to kill a prophet God might kill me instead, or worse, kill Nancy. The thing that really annoyed me was the way he ran his fingers through his beard. I was sure that beneath that beard he had a scrawny little face. He was just using his beard to make himself seem important. It looked like it had taken ten years to grow.
On the third day I returned from my daily fish hunt to find Jonah asleep in my bed, Nancy nowhere to be seen. Consumed by jealousy, I carefully and quietly snuck towards him carrying one of the lanterns we had strategically placed around the stomach to keep it bright. Laying it next to Jonah as he slept, I gently tucked the end of his beard into the top of the lantern. I backed away quickly as I watched the end of the beard catch fire. Within seconds Jonah’s entire beard was alight and he jumped out of my bed in panic and ran around looking for water. He saw me laughing.
”˜Where’s the water buddy?’ He asked, desperately. ”˜C’mon, where’s the water?’ He ran around looking for water. There was none available. In the belly of The Fish, in the middle of the sea, a man whose beard was on fire could not find a single drop of water to extinguish the flame. I laughed and laughed.
Suddenly The Fish started to rumble. It was like an earthquake running through every part of the stomach. I wondered if The Fish had been swallowed by an even bigger fish or if God himself was reaching into the stomach to cast me into Hell for attacking his prophet. I grabbed onto a fleshy part of the stomach wall and held on with all my strength. I wouldn’t go without a fight. A horrific sound rang out throughout the entire stomach and then Jonah, and many of the other contents of the stomach, were vomited out of The Fish, never to return.
I searched everywhere for Nancy. Eventually, when I found her she was covered head to toe in fish vomit. I helped her get cleaned up and she told me about how God had put her under a spell to be attracted to his prophet Jonah during his three day stay in The Fish. It sounded dubious but now Jonah was gone it didn’t really matter either way so I told her I believed her and we had fish for supper.

I was swimming under the moonlight; not the safest thing to do, perhaps, but sometimes opportunities need to be taken. I lay, floating on my back, watching the stars as my body rose and fell with the swells of the incoming waves. As a shooting star crossed the sky I made a wish, a childish habit never forgotten. I wished that things could stay this way forever.

Just as I was completing the thought, a wave crested slightly too early and crashed down over my face, leaving me treading water sputtering. Don’t want things to stay like THAT forever, I qualified to the long-gone star while thinking ruefully that that’d be just my luck - chaos and destruction when I was aiming for peace and tranquility.

I returned to my floating, but the moment was gone and I was starting to get cold. I rode the next large wave in close enough to the beach that I could stand. A man on the beach held my towel. I hesitated a moment, but he offered it to me so I approached to take it. Wrapping it around me I was surprised at how warm it was - as though it had just come out of the dryer, even though I knew it had not.

“I was worried for you,” the unusually attractive man said while I pondered my towel’s warmth, “it’s not safe to swim alone at night.”

Acknowledging the truth in his words I thanked him for his concern and assured him I had no more such plans. <i>Tonight,</i> I silently amended. The look he gave me suggested he knew about my mental qualification.

“Would you come with me? There’s something I would should you.” The look I gave him made it quite clear I knew his thoughts - and was not impressed. “Not that,” he said with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, “unless…?” he let the question trail unasked and I didn’t deign to respond, “yeah I didn’t think so,” he acknowledged, “I just though you might like to experience the true magic of the night.”

Thinking this was one of the odder pickup lines I’d heard, I had to admit to being intrigued. I had some consideration of the fact that I was a woman, alone, and far from home, but all my instincts screamed that he could be trusted. Funny, they’d never done that with my ex.

He led me down the beach, the white sand soft under my bare feet. He let the waves do the talking - telling the world their story as they rolled over one another to crash on the beach. It was hypnotic, mysterious, and romantic all at once.

I shivered, whether from cold or anticipation I knew not, and followed my guide as he turned off the beach onto a trail only he could see. “We’re almost there,” he assured me when I hesitated. Shortly, we found ourselves at the mouth of a cave from which a strange green glow radiated.

“This,” he told me, “is where the fairies meet to decide which star wishes to grant.” Ok so evidently my sensors were broken. I was so stunned, I had literally no idea how to respond. Fortunately, it seemed I didn’t have to. “Yours is next on the list - do you want to address the council?”

Yeah right, like I was about to go in a strange green cave with some guy talking about fairies. Even if he was incredibly good looking. Except… “My wish?”

“The one about being forever choked by a wave,” he reminded.

“But how…?” I let the question trail off, suddenly doubting everything I’d known. “Just in here?” I asked. He nodded and stepped back; apparently I was to go in alone.

I stepped around a rock to enter the cave, and had to blink a few times to allow my eyes to adjust to the ethereal glow. At first I saw nothing but cave walls; then out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I turned, but nothing was there. I sensed rather than saw movement behind me and spun around again - and still there was nothing. I rapidly began to feel like a fool, but some part of me was ready to believe. Wanted to believe.

“Relax,” it was my guide appearing behind me, unannounced. “Don’t try so hard; let your eyes soften and open your mind to what’s really there.”

While his instructions were impossible to follow literally, I somehow understood what he was saying. Like looking through the beautiful person’s makeup to see the nightmare living inside, I’d always been good at reading people. Well, until tonight that is - nothing in his countenance had triggered my crazy warning signals. Dismissing that thought I tried to consciously apply an unconscious technique. And gradually the cave came to life.

Soon the buzzing that I had put down to distant cicadas started to make sense; I could make out words here and there. And as their language became recognizable, so to, did they. In a rock I could see a face; in the dust, a wing. Until I was surrounded by dozens of the most stunningly beautiful creatures I had ever seen.

They were tiny - none bigger than my thumb; their wings reflected an ethereal light that bounced off the crystalline cave walls. Their bodies were stunning shades of turquoise, emerald, and blazing sapphire.

A melodic whistle sounded almost and I was amazed to see my guide immediately drop to one knee and bow his head. Unsure, I copied his movements, feeling more than slightly foolish.

I lifted my head enough to see what was going on; my guide had his hand out in front of him, cradling a fairy who wore her elegance as comfortably as old pair of pjs. That degree of grace, beauty and power was enthralling. There was another flute song and then surprisingly, my guide spoke.

“She has the sight and the soul, but no knowledge or imagination. And without those, no matter what she could be, she’d never be complete. Now, she can.” He finished simply. I briefly considered being offended at his words, but given the way the night had gone so far, I was about ready to concede he was right.

When the flute started again I let my mind go blank and then brought the song inside to fill the empty space, hoping it would translate itself in the oral equivalent of what my eyes had revealed earlier.

“You have seen and heard,” the fairy queen started, “what will you do with the knowledge you have now?”

I considered carefully, knowing instinctively that my words were critical. “I’ll look at the world differently,” I said simply. It was in the running for understatement of the year, but it was an honest answer. The only honest answer.

The stunning fairy nodded regally, and I exhaled with a huge feeling of relief. “Tonight, by moonlight, you wished on a shooting star. That wish holds power. Do you still wish it true?” she asked. I had the distinct impression that if I said yes, she could make it happen.

“My lady,” I started, feeling foolish yet again as I had absolutely no idea of the correct address for a fairy queen - for her manner certainly bespoke of royalty, “wishes I’d never even imagined have already come true tonight. If anything, all I would wish now, is to be permitted to keep the memory of this night clearly,” and I bowed my head again, feeling instinctively that was the right thing to do.

“A wise wish indeed,” the elegant fairy pronounced as I dared a glance at her, “and one we’re happy to grant. See that you remember your vow,” she told me in a tone I knew to respect. And with a tilt of her head towards the mouth of the cave, I was dismissed.

My guide returned with me to the beach where we’d met a lifetime ago. I had so many questions, but it seemed inexcusably rude to interrupt the waves, so I held my silence.

“Remember,” he told me when we go to the end of the beach, “it’s not safe to swim alone after dark.” And with that, he was gone.