The Legend of Harley Rose: Part 5

As the fiery ghost of Harley Rose burned under the pale moon, swimming in the air and locked to the ship by the ruby shackle, the Widow Maker approached a cloud of fog deep in the ocean. Harley Rose was drifting towards it, like a compass that always pointed true-Caraloque. Captain Montana followed her path, keeping the ship in the middle of her chase.

Knox and Lincoln stood on the deck and continued to watch the flaming ghost writhe above the brazier, grimacing occasionally from the damned screams that emitted from her voice. Knox leaned over to Lincoln, “Matey.”

Lincoln broke out of his trance and turned towards his friend. “Aye.”

“This be the greatest tale we’ll ever tell, mate.”

“Aye,” Lincoln agreed, still processing the reality of it all.

“And there’s no better mate I’d rather share it with than you, Lincoln,” Knox slapped Lincoln’s back with pride.

Lincoln tried to smile but guilt swept over him. “I almost steered us away from this. I almost ruined our chance to plunder all the lost treasures.”

“But you didn’t,” Knox smiled.

“But I almost did.”

“But you didn’t, mate.” Knox paused. “Consider it part of the drama, aye! When we bring back chests of the world’s greatest treasures – and we’ve got a hundred bottles of rum, sitting on stacks of gold – in our olden days, mate, we’ll look back at how close we were to losing it all.”

“Aye,” Lincoln smiled fondly.

“If only she wouldn’t scream so damn loud!” Knox suddenly burst out in anger. “Arggh!” He flung a closed fist towards Harley Rose. Harley Rose drifted starboard, the Widow Maker followed.

“We’re nearing Caraloque, gentlemen!” Captain Montana announced from the helm. “Once we leave this fog… only she knows what awaits.” Lincoln looked overboard at the foggy waters, trying to see how impaired the fog made his vision. Montana looked over at him. “Gent,” he called out.

Lincoln turned back, seeing the captain called for him. “Yes, Captain?” Montana didn’t respond. He kept his eyes on Harley Rose. Lincoln came up to him at the wheel. “Yes, Captain?” he repeated quieter.

“I heard you were wondering if it was all true,” Montana said in a low voice. Lincoln put his head down in shame. “If ghosts were real.”

“You heard that?”

“I hear everything. I also heard you were thinking about taking a small ship to Snake Island and digging up my treasure.”

“Captain, I’m sorry, I—”

“Forget about it,” the captain stopped him. He glanced at Lincoln and then looked straight ahead.

Lincoln waited, expecting a harsher punishment. “You’re not going to throw me overboard?”

“Unlike that mongrel Samson, you were willing to listen to old Stanley. You were willing to give your captain a second chance. And that made the difference for me.”

Lincoln put his hand behind his head, taken back by his grace. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Of course, I was right about it all. You just had to be patient, gent.” Montana winked at Lincoln. “I never said I wasn’t crazy. I also never said I didn’t care. I’ve been sailing the seas for more than a decade now, and I’ve got a good eye on who to trust. I trusted you for a reason, gent.”

“I won’t let you down again,” Lincoln said with determination.

Montana smirked confidently. “Now then! Let’s ready ourselves to face the dead, shall we?”

The Widow Maker emerged through the fog and enter into a haven of still waters where a grimy cave swallowed the water into its mouth. Coral and seaweed clung the side of the rocky sides, and on the sands were washed up skeletons and bloated corpses. They had found the grotto on the island of Caraloque.

Boxer dropped the anchor, which brought the Widow Maker to a halt. The crew hopped in the small ship tethered starboard and Boxer lowered them slowly into the water from the Widow Maker. Montana tipped his hat to Boxer.

Captain Montana, Lincoln, Knox, and Stanley rowed to shore; heavy mist hung in the air like steam. When the small boat reached shore, they stepped onto soft sand, like snow, with their boots sinking deeper than it normally should. Montana saw a skeleton down the bank. He noticed it had a particular necklace mangled around the ribs. Montana removed his hat and placed it over his heart.

Lincoln noticed the scene. “Did you know him?”

“An old drinking mate,” Montana said solemnly. He placed his three pointed hat back on his head and walked into the grotto.

When the men stepped deeper in the grotto, they saw stalagmites and stalactites jutting within the rocky cave, like passing teeth inside the mouth of a monster. They heard the soft sounds of a waterfall behind a slimy rock that covered their path, forcing them around. As Montana lead the way they turned the corner and saw a cavern with a waterfall over small pools of water that puddled in rocky concaves. But all throughout the grotto were dozens and dozens and dozens of treasure chests, overflowing with infinite riches and perfect jewels that spilled out onto the rocky floor. All the lost treasures of the world were in front of their very eyes. At the back was a trench that held the water, opening back into the sea. And in front of the waterfall was a figure, a man, sitting on a piece of stone tablet that arched back, like a throne.

Montana got nearer. He saw the man was slender and dauntingly tall, and his skin had pruned into a purple and pale mush, with barnacles scattered upon his body. He had clothes that were tattered and faded from centuries of use. He held a long trident at his side. The man’s long beard and hair were gently floating above him, waving side to side, each hair moving on its own, as if submerged in water, eternally drowned. The man slowly turned his leathered neck and looked at Montana. He slammed the end of the trident down on the rock five times. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! BOOM! The final slam echoed against the walls. Slowly, blackened ash started to swarm through the air in trails like comets. As they got closer, the men could hear bloody cries of the damned pleading from within the ashen comets.

The drowned man with the trident walked slowly towards the men, stopping at a distance. Montana cocked his head and let out an aggravated sigh. “Well…”

The drowned man opened his mouth to speak; his voice was curdled with water, which slid down his long beard as he spoke. “Montana Ross.”

Montana gave a pearly white smile. “Hello, Davy Jones.”

Lincoln looked at Knox in fright. Knox nodded regretfully. “Aye, mate. Harley Rose, the daughter of Davy Jones.”

Davy Jones took a step closer to Montana. “You found the grotto, child,” his voice gurgled with water, as he constantly dripped wet.

“Took a bit of guidance. Your daughter led the way.”

“She tried to coax your buried treasure from you, did she?”

“Well, that’s not entirely true. It was this gent here,” he pointed at Lincoln accusingly. “He’s the one who had a lovely night with her, drinking themselves silly.” Lincoln shook his head, begging him to stop.

“And so you’ve come all this way, for the treasures she’s stolen,” Davy Jones assumed.

“Aye,” Montana smiled boastfully.

Davy Jones held up his withered hands and displayed the ashen comets that filled the room. He closed his fists quickly, wrapped them around his trident, and then slammed it hard against the stony ground. The comets swarmed around the room, then bolted into the trench under the waterfall. “For every year you have lived, Montana Ross, I have lived one hundred. And for every life you have taken, I have taken one thousand. And for every prayer you have said, I have cursed you thousands upon thousands of times.” The ground began to shake as the small puddles of water in the stone, filled with gold, bubbled with hot water. “You will die by my trident, Montana Ross, just as every man you have ever known has, and a million more will.” A hand clawed out of the trench behind Davy Jones, gripping the side of the stone. It pulled out a drowned man, with dead white eyes, and sunken flesh. Another hand gripped the side of the stone and pulled itself out. From within the trench, an army of drowned men flooded the room, armed with swords. They began pacing towards the men.

Knox, Lincoln, and Stanley unsheathed the swords. Lincoln nudged Montana. “Alright, Captain. Which theories have you heard about killing the damned, then?”

Montana paused. “I haven’t.” They all turned to look at him. Montana unsheathed his rapier.

The gurgled cry of the army of the damned roared in the grotto. They charged the four men; Davy Jones standing in the middle and pointing his trident at them.

The four men split up, running along the side. The first horde of the drowned chased after Knox and Lincoln. Lincoln ducked under a swing and sliced the drowned’s stomach, spinning around and stabbing the next. Knox blocked an upward swing that crashed into his sword, he pushed the drowned away and stood back to back with Lincoln. Another drowned lunged at Knox, who blocked to sword and pierced his chest. It dropped to the wet floor, releasing a curdled sigh.

The other horde ran after Stanley and Montana. Stanley stayed behind Montana and fought them one at a time trying to keep up with the waves of the drowned. Montana stayed swift – and incoming swing swiped by the face of Montana, who grabbed the drowned’s arm and stabbed the drowned behind it, then used the drowned he held as a shield from another lunged strike. He spun around and sliced into the drowned’s neck, then pushed the drowned he used as a shield into a group of them. He picked up Stanley and helped him run to gain separation.

Knox and Lincoln cut through a wave of the drowned, working together as a team to duck under each other’s swing to kill incoming drowned’s. They saw Montana and Stanley running up a slope for higher ground. Lincoln dodged to his left and bashed the drowned’s head with his sword handle, stabbing him on the ground. They sprinted away, leaping over a few slain bodies.

As they caught up to Montana and Stanley, Davy Jones raised his trident in the air and slammed it on the ground. Ashen comets escaped from the bodies and dove down into the trenches. Hands gripped out of the trench and climbed out dozens and dozens of more drowned soldiers.

“How many are down there?” Lincoln shouted.

“I’d rather not find out!” Montana shouted back.

“We have to do something, then!”

Stanley wrestled with a drowned, which slobbered hanging seaweed on his face. Stanley fell back onto a chest. He looked to his left and saw on the pile of gold he fell on was Black Bart’s diamond crucifix. He grabbed it and held it up with both hands against the drowned. “Get back!” he cried in his harsh whisper. The drowned stopped for a moment. Stanley couldn’t believe it. Then the drowned slapped the crucifix out of his hand and roared, lifting his sword in the air.

A rapier passed through the drowned and pulled out the back. It collapsed to the ground. “They’re not religious, gent!” Montana informed, extended his hand to help him up. “Plus, they’re already damned so they’ve got nothing to lose.” Stanley grabbed Montana’s hand and pulled himself up.

Lincoln sliced the neck of a drowned, spun into a drowned and punched it with his elbow before stabbing it in the back, then dodged a swipe and kicked the drowned off the slope. Davy Jones lifted his trident and slammed it against the stone. The ash comets of the damned souls escaped from those same drowned Lincoln just killed and swam down into the trench.

Lincoln turned back towards Montana. “Captain! It’s the trident!”

Montana stuck his rapier through two drowned at once. He kicked them off and looked down at Davy Jones. “Aye!” Montana shouted. He held up his flintlock gun. “I’ve got one shot in this, gent! I have to make it count!”

“We’ll help!” Lincoln jumped off the slope and stood face to face with Davy Jones. Davy Jones turned his head sharply at Lincoln and took a fighting stance towards him, holding his trident low. Lincoln gripped his sword tightly. Davy Jones took a step towards him, then another, beginning his charge at Lincoln. Lincoln held up his sword and charged back, shouting. They locked weapons; Lincoln realized how much taller Davy Jones was then he, as he looked down with milky eyes at Lincoln.

Davy Jones thrust Lincoln away, Lincoln collided in a wall. Davy Jones took strides towards Lincoln when a rock suddenly struck Davy Jones in the head. He stopped running and turned to see Knox holding a second stone in his hand. He hurled it at Davy Jones, who swung his trident and knocked the rock out of the air. He turned to face Knox and ran after him. Knox planted his heel in the ground and held up the block from the powerful swing. Knox’s arms shook as Davy Jones pushed down harder, the tip of the trident nearing his neck.

Suddenly, Davy Jones screamed and cried out in the grotto. Lincoln’s sword has passed through his torso. Lincoln withdrew it and watched Davy Jones yell. Knox took his sword and swung it downwards to finish the blow when Davy Jones grabbed Knox by the throat. He lifted him up and cast him into Lincoln. Ten drowned soldiers swarmed after the Lincoln and Knox, lying on the ground.

Captain Montana leapt down in between Lincoln and Knox and the swarm of the drowned. They were the only ten left.

Montana locked swords with a drowned soldier. Montana suddenly looked closer at him. “Captain John Loggins?” The drowned titled his head. “I heard you drank a little too much and fell off a lighthouse. Guess you didn't tell Harley about your treasure and she pushed you?” The drowned screamed. “Sorry to hear that, gent.” Montana circled his sword around, disarming the drowned man and stabbed him in the heart.

Montana looked back and saw Davy Jones raise his trident in the air. “Stanley!” Montana shouted. Stanley stood on the top of the slope and picked a rock and threw it at Davy Jones. It missed him. Davy Jones slammed the trident on the stone.

Montana swiped across the stomach of a drowned and kicked back another. Lincoln and Knox jumped to their feet and finished the last of the ten alongside him. The souls left the corpses and flew through the air and into the trench.

The four men surrounded Davy Jones. He looked at each of the men. Death was in his eyes. Lincoln spotted the drowned soldiers climbing out of the trench. Stanley ran towards the trench and began stabbing the climbing drowned soldiers, falling back into the abyss.

Davy Jones swung his trident at Montana, who leaned all the way back, nearly touching the floor with his back, and shot up. The trident swung around and connected with Knox’s sword. The impact broke Knox’s balance and he stumbled to the side. Davy Jones held up the trident to strike Knox in the back. Lincoln rushed forward and stopped the incoming attack, saving Knox.

Montana took out his gun and aimed it Davy Jones. Knox and Lincoln continued to circle around him, dodging and fighting around the eternally drowned king. He couldn’t find a clear shot. He holstered the flintlock.

Davy Jones shoved the back end of the trident into Knox’s stomach, sending him against the wall behind him, and then linked his trident into Lincoln’s sword. Davy Jones flung his sword over his shoulder and cast it against the far wall. Montana raced over and struck his rapier against Davy Jones's trident. Davy Jones thrust Montana back. He turned to face Montana and rushed him. Montana ran up the slope and blocked each swing of the trident, ducking and jumping in between his own attacks. At the top of the rocky slope, Davy Jones pinned Montana against the side of the slope, pushing him closer to the edge. Davy Jones swung hard from above and clashed into Montana’s rapier, knocking him to the floor. He pointed his trident at Montana’s heart and slammed it down. Montana caught his rapier in between the points and held it with all his might. He shook, clenching his teeth. The trident grew nearer and nearer to his body. It began to cut into his chest. Montana yelled as blood drew while he tried to resist.

A sword shot through Davy Jones’s torso. And then another stab. Lincoln had stabbed Davy Jones again, now pulling back for third strike – he lunged his sword forward when Davy Jones grabbed Lincoln by the arm and pulled him to the side. He lifted the trident above Lincoln for the final blow.

A rock slammed against Davy Jones’s temple. Knox hurled a second rock, which connected with Davy Jones’s nose. Davy Jones yelled a gargled roar and jumped down off the slope. He charged Knox and swung three times into his sword – Clash! Clash! Clash! The blows brought Knox to his knees. Davy Jones kicked Knox away, he crashed into the wall.

Davy Jones gripped his trident and aimed it at Knox to throw it at him when another sword cut across his back. Davy Jones spun around and saw old Stanley wielding his weapon. Davy Jones swiped the trident and knocked the sword out of Stanley’s hands. Stanley stumbled onto the stony floor. Davy Jones stood over Stanley and lifted his trident in the air. He brought it down, stabbing Stanley in the stomach. Blood burst from his weak mouth and dripped off the corner of his lips onto a pile of gold where he lay. Davy Jones removed the bloody trident from Stanley’s stomach.

He turned around to face the other remaining men when he heard a harsh whisper. “You…” Davy Jones looked back at the dying old Stanley. “You… may have killed a thousand men… but there is only… one… Captain Montana.” Stanley smiled faintly as his face turned pale. He exhaled, looking up, and breathing his last breath.

Captain Montana rolled over and held his bloody chest, standing up, his face growing red with intense rage. Lincoln stumbled back onto his feet and grabbed his sword off the ground. Knox picked himself up and walked towards Davy Jones. They circled around him, wielding their swords, stepping on coins and treasure and back on stony ground, as Davy Jones stood still and watched the men surround him. He gripped his trident tightly.

Montana sprinted towards Davy Jones, who lunged his trident after him, but Montana slid under Davy Jones and shot up and swung his rapier – but Davy Jones spun around and blocked it. Knox and Lincoln charged from either side and attacked; Knox went low and Lincoln went high. Davy Jones knelt low and swiped the trident in a circle over the floor. It knocked all three of them over. Montana jumped up onto his feet and leapt in the air at Davy Jones, holding his rapier down for a driving blow while screaming. Davy Jones took his trident with both hands and hit Montana out of the air and slammed him against the wall.

Davy Jones turned to Lincoln and held up the trident and brought it down on him. Lincoln blocked it, bringing him to one knee as he grunted to hold up back Davy Jones. Davy Jones suddenly swiped his trident in the air and swept Lincoln’s sword out of his hands. Davy Jones held up the trident to pierce Lincoln, but Knox stepped in front and blocked the incoming attack, saving his friend.

Davy Jones spun Knox around and struck weapons against each other, driving Knox near the edge of the trench. Davy Jones backed him beside the drop and Knox blocked the attacks. Davy Jones then brought his trident down hard, and then again, and then again, buckling Knox to the floor. He thrust his trident towards Knox and Knox stopped it, locking the trident in his sword. Davy Jones pushed hard, Knox couldn’t fight it. He cried out, trying to fight with all his might. The trident was against his throat, closing in.

BOOM! Davy Jones arched his back suddenly and yelled. He stumbled around and looked behind him. Smoke drifted from the barrel of the flintlock in Captain Montana’s hands. Davy Jones took a step back, his heel hanging over the trench. He fell backwards.

Knox watched as Davy Jones fell beside him, when suddenly his hand reached out and grabbed Knox by the arm. He was pulling Knox into the trench – Knox gripped the side of the trench and held on for dear life. His fingers were slipping, he couldn’t hold on much longer.

Knox’s hands slipped off the rock. He screamed when suddenly a hand grabbed onto his. Knox looked up and saw Lincoln had caught him. Lincoln was holding on with all of his strength as Davy Jones was pulling Knox down into the abyss. Knox’s hand started to slip, their grip was loosening.

“Don’t let go Knox!” Lincoln shouted. “Don’t you let go!” Knox looked at his feet and saw Davy Jones climbing up his leg, growling a gurgled cry. He looked back at Lincoln, “Stay with me!”

“Matey,” Knox said calmly.

“I’ve got you!”

“Mate.”

“Just hang on!”

“Lincoln.” Lincoln looked in Knox’s eyes. They were full of peace. “Thanks for all the drinks, mate.”

Lincoln’s eyes welled up. “No!” Knox let go. “Knox!!” Knox fell down into the abyss and brought Davy Jones with him as the trident spiraled below. They disappeared into the darkness. Lincoln put his face on the ground and cried.

At the shore in the soft sands of Caraloque, Montana shoved a plank of wood over a mound where they had buried Stanley. The plank was carved by Montana to read “Stanley and Knox. The Best Gents.” They climbed back in their boat and rowed to the Widow Maker.

On the deck was an overload of gold and jewels, full of all the lost treasure of the world. Montana examined Captain Henry Morgan’s golden rapier. He unsheathed his own rapier and threw it behind him, putting the golden one in its place.

“Captain,” Boxer approached Montana. He held up a jar with glowing blue ash. “The remains of Harley Rose.”

Montana took it carefully and held it up to the sun. “Good thinking, gent. Put this with my other collections.” He handed it back to Boxer, who left towards the captain’s quarters.

Montana looked at Lincoln, who looked out at sea and watch the fog that surrounded Caraloque fade into the distance. “Gent,” Montana called out to Lincoln. Lincoln turned around and looked at him. “He was a good pirate.” Lincoln nodded. “They say legends never die, but we’ve just killed two of them. No, it’s the stories that never die. And we’ll always tell the story of Knox and Stanley.”

Lincoln smiled gratefully. “Aye.”

“Aye.” Montana twisted his heel and spun around to take in the overwhelming find of treasure. “Well, unfortunately, gent, this treasure’s a bit easier to split up now. Pick your half.”

Lincoln looked at it all. “A quarter.” Montana looked at him curiously. “The captain always gets the lion’s share.”

Montana raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Does that mean you’re staying aboard the Widow Maker?”

Lincoln smiled. “Aye.”

Montana walked away from Lincoln and into his quarters. He returned with two tankards and a bottle of rum. He handed one of the tankards to Lincoln and poured them each some rum. “Here’s to all the collections we’ll find together.” Montana raised his glass.

Lincoln raised his cup but pulled it back. “Captain, I do have one question about your collection.”

“What is it?”

“Whose skull is that?”

“My father’s,” Montana said ominously. “After I shot him.” Lincoln took a step back in fear. “Kidding,” Montana smiled. “I found it. Somewhere. I don’t remember.” Lincoln shook his head and laughed. He lifted up his tankard. Montana then pulled his drink back and held up a finger in thought. “You know, gent…” he glanced up at Lincoln. “I did hear about another legend.”

Lincoln tilted his head. “Really?”

“Aye.”

“Is this legend true?”

“The way I see it, gent, if one’s true, they’re all true.”

“Would you say the chance of survival is a slim as a bottom-top drinker passing up on a pretty lady who’s offered free rum and a night together in the sands of Tortuga?”

Montana smiled wide. “Slimmer.”

Lincoln smiled back. “Lead the way, Captain Montana.” Montana slammed his drink in Lincoln’s splashing rum into each other’s cups. Clink!

The End.