I'm looking at my Master of Thrones title and I feel a surge of guilt welling up inside of me, coupled with a pang of loss at a debt I will never repay.
You saw me sitting at Cannon Cove, desperately hoping for a passer-by to help me get my second to last Skeleton Throne. I don't know how it must have looked, having some dopey fool swimming towards you, begging you to jump in his sloops portside cannon, because it was "aimed just right", and clearly lacking the means to properly communicate, my ramblings were met with a well meaning "Aye"
Your ship and garb were plain, you were clearly new to the Seas, but you understood to sit in the throne alongside me upon that ghoulish throne. I can only imagine your surprise to see it light up, and to receive a scant handful of strange coin.
Next was Smugglers' Bay, a brief sail north. I invited you to join me, sailing side by side. I was surprised to see you jump aboard not your sloop, but mine, and doubly so when you manned my own cannon and blew your bare sloop to pieces.
I manned the wheel, you manned the sails, and in short order our backsides were nestled upon another throne.
My achievement done and my pouch bursting with one hundred doubloons, I will admit I thought briefly to abandon you, but it passed. I gazed into your eyes, so young, untainted by the horrors of being endlessly thrown into the brig upon joining a new crew, nor the horrors of the devilish Almondbeard putting an abrupt end to a profitable voyage.
I escorted you to the map, and marked the remaining Thrones.
"Pick the ones you've yet to grace with your bottom!"
Aye was the only thing you ever said. It was all you needed to say. Any further and I would have hushed your lips with my finger. We communicated on another level.
Shipwreck Bay was next, and it took little time to claim its throne.
"Plunder Outpost awaits!" I cried, turning the ship and sailing to our fourth Throne. One I had previously claimed, but one I felt you deserved all the same.
It was halfway into this trip I realized I had been a rude host. I cracked open a keg, and together we sat in the cramped mid deck of the sloop and drunk heartily.
In my inebriation I suggested a playful sword fight, though just a few strokes and I had hurled a bucket of chunder right into your face. I had heard this was considered quite the cheeky achievement among veteran pirates.
Your rolling on the deck laughing confirmed that…
I hope wherever you are, you are laughing still, gracing another crew with your jubilant "Aye"s, because as we laughed and drank, I saw what would ultimately spell our doom.
The Shark had come!
Staggering to the wheel, I cried for you to stay below deck, knowing one misstep could send you to the depths, and the merfolk would not ferry you back to me…
You would have none of it!
I will confess I smiled, seeing your bravery inspired me to turn and face the Beast, not flee! Even when in your excitement to empty your pistol into the beasts eyes had you trip off the ship, I dropped anchor and faced the dreaded Megan with my cannon, ensuring your swim back to safety was not cut short by endless rows of hateful teeth.
Together we fought on, matching the ferocity of the shark with our own will to survive.
If only it had lasted.
If only my aim had been true…
The Beast charged, its jaws wide enough to swallow our ship whole, but my cannon was aimed down its throat, a well placed shot would surely cause the beast to halt its attack.
But I missed.
My shot went wide, and even as I tried to reload, I knew it was too late.
That had been my last cannonball.
You knew it, too. I cried once again for you to flee below deck, but you rushed to my side, and began stuffing the gun with your own ammunition.
As we stood side by side, the beasts jaws came crashing down, slamming into the port side, and sending us both flying. Myself, injured from a previous fight, succumbed to my wounds mid air. As the light left my eyes I saw you sailing off the ship, the ship with anchors raised, the ship t hat would sail on until I paid my dues to the Ferryman and returned…
I awoke on that damned galleon, and spun around in a frenzy. You never appeared. Of course you didn't. Even in your youth, you had the spirit of a Legend.
I would have waited longer, but my ship was taking on water, I had to return. With a last, furtive glance I flung myself back into the world of the living, back onto my empty ship.
I dropped anchor at once, plugging the leaks second. I must admit, I waited there longer than is normal, hoping I would hear a distant "Aye" and know you had swum in pursuit of the ship. But you never did. I should have never expected it.
I only hope the merfolk whisked you home safely.
I continued on to Plunder Outpost, and again I waited for more than was normal. Several times I saw a bare sloop approaching, but each time my heart soared, it swiftly sunk. Strange pirates, unloading their booty and moving on.
Not one attacked me, so clear was the air of gloom that surrounded me as I sat, eye glued to my spyglass that in turn was glued to the horizon.
Eventually, after many sunrises and sunsets, I gave up, and left the Sea of Thieves.
Wherever you are, I hope the next crew you bless with your presence treats you better, holds you tighter, and loves you dearer.
Because I can't even remember your name.
© Post "I can’t remember your name, but I will never forget you." for game Sea of Thieves.
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