The sky was a mottled grey, with thick clouds blanketing the sky. Not a spot of blue anywhere in the sky or on the horizon. The old schooner, Mazer’s Folly, was pushing along on its Journey toward Port Royal. A band of scallywags and scoundrels hoisted the sails, manned the cannons, and were on watch for any pirates or dangers. The life of a privateer, while not as glamorous as that of the pirates of the west indies, was certainly a lot longer if one was careful out on the open sea. The captain of the vessel, Miss Anne Read, had always played it safe and careful for the sake of her crew. In a few short hours they would spot land and arrive in Port Royal for trading, tobacco, drink and merriment. But first they needed to make it there.

Anne walked the deck of the ship, watching the work of her men with a careful eye. She learned long ago that loyalty on a ship was earned, not given outright, and the loyalty she earned from her crew was due to her keen eye for detail, her willingness to work alongside them, and her safety-first mentality. Anne spotted one of her crewmen struggling to tie down one of the cannons to the deck. “Oy, Mister Stephens, struggling with that there knot?” Anne knelt down and swatted his hands away, “Go and take watch, give your hands a rest. I’ll get this tied down.”

“Yes, Cap’n” Stephens said, giving a half salute and scampering off to the crows nest.

“He’s a good man, but he’s got maybe a season or two left at sea before his hands are about used up.” Anne said under her breath, securing the cannon quickly and resuming her check of the deck. About forty-five minutes after the cannon incident she heard a bell ringing from above her. “Ship ahoy, Cap’n. Galleon by the looks of it! Signalling for us to come about and take some letters ashore!” Stephens called from the crows nest above. Anne reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her spyglass. A series of lantern flashes of the ship confirmed the signal:

“Letters home, please take with you. Dropping barrel now.”

Sure enough, a barrel was lowered into the water and the ship turned about to sail towards the open ocean. A storm could be seen off in the distance, brewing stronger and stronger but it appeared to be moving out toward the sea as well.

“Reef sails, you scallywags. Slow the ship. Get that barrel up here and lets continue on our way. That Galleon’s got business elsewhere and so do we.” Anne called out to the men who were already moving in anticipation of her orders. The barrel was hauled onto the deck and set next to the water barrels. With a bark of orders from the Bosun, Mister Veers, and the ship was back on course toward port royal.

“I wonder if that Galleon will survive the storm ahead, seems foolhardy to sail directly into a brewing maelstrom like that, eh Veers.” Anne said, pulling out her spyglass one more time to check the Galleon’s status.

“Indeed, Captain Read, But what the King’s Navy decides to do is hardly our probl-” He cut off after hearing a gasp from Captain Anne Read.

“That’s not a ship of the King’s Navy, Veers.” Anne closed the spyglass and pocketed the spyglass. Veers looked in the direction Anne had been looking and took in a sharp gasp himself. That storm that had been brewing all day was now a wall of rain, storm, lightning and death sailing straight toward them and at the head of that storm was the Galleon they had just encountered shortly before. “Are they trying to get away perhaps?”

“Turn the ship around, me boys, Turn around and run!” Anne shouted, “That storm is a coming and we surely won’t survive it. Now batton the hatches, unfurl mains, and lets make with all haste to Port Royal.”

The crew moved again, anticipating their captain’s orders. Veers moved to the navigator station as the captain motioned the man away, “This is going to take the captain’s touch I think.” She dismissed the navigator and had him take up with the crew manning the main sail.

“Captain, what about that other ship, do we leave her out there without trying to help those crewmen?” Veers asked, panicked. He had never known Anne to simply turn tail and run.

“That ain’t no King’s Navy Ship, nor is it any ship of any nation on this earth. Rage, Death, and Chaos fill her sails. That there is the Flying Dutchman. We’ve got to move, NOW!” Anne said with a fierce determination and a sharp turn of the wheel. “Wind is from the west, which means we’ve got the favor of whatever gods you believe in! Now let’s go, go, go!”

The thunder seemed to growl a monstrous roar, like the roar of a hundred devils and demons from the depths of hell. The Dutchman seemed to leap forward from the waves, cutting through the storm riddled ocean with ease. The undead crew certainly didn’t need to worry about things as simple and fragile as mortality, that was certain. A large wave crested beneath her ship and raised it above the ocean, almost as if grasped by the hand of Poseidon himself. As quickly as they had been risen up, the wave seemed to dissipate, causing Mazer’s Folly to crash into the trough that formed below them. A crack of lightning flashed against the surface of the sea nearby, lighting up the sky and sea for a moment.

“Man the lines boy, give us every inch of sail we can spare.” Anne called out. Veers held on to the deck, fearful for how quickly their fortunes had changed. “Mr. Veers, update!”

Veers looked back, the ship and storm were closing quickly behind them, with maybe a couple dozen meters between them. “They are closing, Captain, A few more moments and they will be on top of us!”

Captain Anne Read gritted her teeth and held on for all she could. She saw several members of her crew doing the same, all knowing the same deadly truth: letting go now would mean certain damnation. Another flash of lightning provided a glimpse of the sea around them, still no sign of land. The winds and rain crashed against the ship, knocking her around, too and fro. Suddenly a chill laughter could be heard on the air. For a moment, Anne thought one of her crew members, maybe old Stephens, had cracked under the pressure. “Steady, lads, steady!” She called out to her crew, then turned to the left. About two doezen meters off the bow of the ship, there was the dutchman. A ghostly figure stood on deck laughing like a mad hatter. “Turn the ship around me boys, turn around and run” he mocked her warning to her crew.

“Captain, Land ho!” Anne heard Stephen’s voice call out. The man may be going bad in the hands, but those eyes of his were sharp as ever. “Port Royal, by the look of it!” Anne knew it was time to risk it all at this point. “Time to make for land my boys! Crew, cut the guns from the deck and drop them in! Let out every inch of sail! Anything we can spare to lose, lets lose it.”

“Captain!” Veers grabbed her arm tightly and leaned in “Dropping our guns will leave us defenseless against that ship!”

“Its the only chance we have, Veers. Guns are no use here. On that land lies our salvation. If we get caught, we spend an eternity on that ghostly ship and I will be damned to the locker before I allow Davy Jones to press me into his hellish crew.” Anne looked at Veers with such determination and fire in her eyes that he actually feared he’d shoot him on charges of disloyalty. But that wasn’t Anne Read’s style.

“You heard the captain, men! Cut those cannons away, let out the sails, anything that can be tossed, toss it out.” Veers called out to the crew.

“Save the barrel of letters, mate. We may need those.” Anne called down to a crew member who was reaching for barrels.

“The Dutchman is cutting our wind, captain!” Veers called out. A sharp turn kept the Dutchman from crashing in on top of them by just 10 meters. The wave generated from such a crash was nearly enough to capsize the old schooner though. The masts of the ship bent under the pressure of the water as it flooded over the deck, nearly causing it to splinter. Another wave came from the opposite direction and pushed Mazer’s Folly back upright. Anne charged her ship into the harbor with every ounce of grit, will and faith in her crew.

As they reached the harbor, The Dutchman pulled away. The bitter screams of the ghost crew echoed over the winds and waves. The Dutchman had lost its prey today, and Anne’s crew was safe. The crew of the ship quickly docked with the harbor, piling off the ship and onto shore with all the haste their captain could force out of them. Anne, the last one off the ship, grabbed the small barrel of letters and carried it off the ship.
”Alright, lets see what this barrel really has inside it, shall we?” Anne said as her crew gathered on the shore near the docks. The barrel was cracked open and out spilled mold and waterlogged parchments. They looked decades old and were practically ruined. “Well Lads, let that be a lesson to us all, if we next meet a ship beneath a grey and stormy sky, we don’t take their letters. For the Dutchman will descend upon us and try to claim us as their prize. Now, lets get back down to the ship, properly stow our cargo, unload, and drink to celebrate our escape from certain death!”

“YEAH!” came a shout from the crew around her. Mazer’s Folly survived to sail another day.