User blog:ElizaCreststeel/Beyond the Fog, Part 2: Grace for the Lost

Posted by Edward Graves

Jan. 26, 2018, 9 p.m.



The sun shines brightly on the decks of my flagship; her powerful guns currently undergoing inspection by their crews. I am currently hearing a report on the state of the ship’s sails and rigging from my sailing master when I heard a commotion on the main deck. Two new arrivals; Wade McAllister and Charity Ironflint. They had run into a man named Bartholomew; who was now babbling at them about something. The man is mad, and the new arrivals realize it. As Bartholomew moves off, I approach my guests.

“Welcome aboard, Master Wade; Miss Charity.” I gesture grandly to my cabin door. “Would ye care t’ come inside fer a spot o’ rum?”

“Aye, thank ye, Cap’n.” Wade answers. As he walks to the door, Charity interjects:

“As much as I’d love some rum meself, we have bigger things afoot. Grace is missing.”

I continue to pour a glass for Wade as the pair sits across from me. As I set the drink down on the charts I had been reviewing, Wade speaks up;

“Aye, Anderson is long overdue. She failed to report in, an’ we worry that her ship’s been attacked, or worse.”

“Aye. I too were given her travel plans, as well as a request that I search fer her in the event that she fail t’ return home to Padres del Fuego.”

Wade took a purposeful drink, leaned back in his chair and said calmly;

“Ye are not the only Keeper on Tortuga, Cap’n Graves. Alaina requested our assistance, and we are here to join forces an’ find Lady Grace.” Wade smiles and gestures to the charts on my desk.

“Where were you intending to search, Cap’n?”

“If ye know somethin’, Master Wade, speak now.”

“I’m the best navigator this side of the Leeward Islands. I know every current, every rock, every island, in this part of the Caribbean. I know the route her ship were supposed to take. Ye’ll need us in order to find her.” Turning to Charity he added; “Any ship we hire will likely need a master gunner.”

“Of course, Master Wade! I will take ye on as navigator, an’ ye’ll supply to me helmsman the headin’ to where we can likely find Lady Grace. And I’m happy to have ye join me too, Miss Ironflint.”

“Lady Grace is one of us,” Charity adds. “We don’t know what delayed her, but whatever it was could take on a Royal Navy warship.”

“Very well,” I say, rising to stand. “Ye will both have the master position on my ship, befitting yer station.” I extend my hand and ask; “Do we have an accord?”

Wade and Charity exchange a glance, and then both shake my hand in turn. As they do so, they affirm;

“We have an accord.”

“Aye, we have an accord.”

As our ship sails from Tortuga’s harbor, Wade McAllister finds me on the quarterdeck, studying an unnatural looking fog bank far out to sea.

“Master Wade, what think ye of that fog bank?” I ask, gesturing to it.

“That fog don’t look like anything in nature.” He says. “I’ve been all around the world, seen lots of strange things, but never anything quite like that, except once.” “And where be that?”, I reply.

“‘Twas but a few years ago during an ambush by the ‘Harkaway’ herself,” he answers. “The merchants an’ fishermen that supply me with information have all told me o’ this fog; it seems a bank like this one be a new occurrence off-shore of Padres del Fuego and Port Royal as well,” I add.

Before we can say any more, there is a crash behind us. Turning to look, we see Bartholomew babbling apologies to Charity Ironflint, after accidentally placing powder kegs next to a lantern. Once the stuff was moved, and Bartholomew had wandered off, Charity joined us and said;

“That Bartholomew is quite an… odd specimen. What’s his story?”

“He were on a navy ship headed fer England. We captured it, an’ he nearly leaped overboard when we set course back fer Tortuga. Told an outlandish tale o’ some figure raisin’ the dead in Port Royal. Of course, nothin’ has happened there, and there are no more undead in that port than there were yesterday, or last week, or last month, fer that matter.”

“I’ve heard similar stories.” Charity says. “Graveyards giving up their dead, loved ones not stayin’ dead long enough to be buried. That kind of thing.”

“Which is why we need to find Lady Grace,” Wade says. “Something’s in the air, and I don’t like the way the wind is blowing.”

A few days later, our ship enters the area where Wade calculated Lady Grace would likely be if her ship was attacked and destroyed. I turn to head back to my cabin, intending to plan a search pattern for these islands when my attention is captured by a column of thick, black smoke. The cloud rises in a pillar from one of the islands. I point out the smoke and tell Wade and Charity;

“That there be a signal. Ready the longboat, and form a landing party. I believe we have just found Lady Grace.”