Screeching Sirens Ch. 12

Chapter 12

Amazingly, Arthur slept the clearest dream he had in years.  Perhaps it was because it was not a dream but a long lost memory.  The memory of the first time he drowned.

It was a rare sunny day and the family had gathered at the beach to enjoy the sun to the fullest.  He ran out to the water, only to where it reached his torso so he would not have to swim.  His eyes kept to the sands at his feet, searching for seashells and trinkets like they were priceless treasures.  He didn't see how the current was furtively pulling him away from his family or his mother, in a rare bout of forgetfulness, gather the rest of her children to go inside to eat.  Mind solely focused on finding that perfect seashell, he traveled farther into the ocean.

And then he saw it, the perfect shell.  A small green one, just like his eyes.  Overjoyed he reached for it, a little surprised at how quickly he hit the water.  When he resurfaced he dipped the shell into the water to wash the grains of sand off of it then brought it to his face, looking up closely at the ridges and green hue and the small dark speckles.  Finally he looked up to the waters in front of him and jumped a little seeing the level of water.  When he looked closer he could distinguish something else in the waters, a shadow gliding closer toward him.    His heart jumped when he recognized the shadow and the fin that stuck out of the surface.  Shark.  

"Mom!" he called, voice cracking as he turned to see exactly how far from shore he was and the disappearance of his family.  The fear that he felt at that moment was unlike any he had felt his entire life.  He turned around to see the shadow even closer and the size of the creature, longer than him.  Reflexively he took a step back.  The sand below him shifted and he fell backwards into the water.  Panic set in and he struggled violently, water rushing into his windpipe.  He knew there was a carnivorous fish heading straight for him.  In his had he still held the small green shell.

Some part of his mind wouldn't let him die without seeing whatever would hit him and his eyes peered through a small slit through his eyelids, ignoring the sting of salt.  To his surprise the shark was not inches from him or heading toward him but fighting with another fish that he couldn't see very well but could tell was much bigger than the shark, maybe twice its size.  He didn't see the victor however as an agonizing darkness overcame him when he took another breath of water.

He woke as his lungs coughed up the water trapped in his chest.  All the energy was sapped from his body and he could only lay there, eyes closed as he caught his breath.  Slowly he became aware of voices.

"Really Al, what were you thinking?  What are you thinking?  A shark?  Why couldn't you have let the human fend for itself?  Now we have a human child on our hands."

"Come on Mattie, you know it would have been cruel to just leave 'im there!  Besides, look how cute he is…"

"Alfred F. Jones, he is a human, not some dolphin you can take home with you.  Do you know how pissed Dad will be if he heard about this?  We'd be so-,"

"Like I give a damn about what he thinks.  Jeeze, you're making it sound like I'm going to keep him as a pet or something."  By now he knew that the two male voices were talking about him.  With some effort he opened his eyes to see a man leaning over him, talking to someone behind his head.  Two blue eyes glanced down and a dazzling smile turned to him, "You awake little dude?"

"He's awake?" the other voice squeaked then suddenly moved behind the blue-eyed man, "Can he see you?"

"Yep!  Hey how you doin human?  Can you breathe?"

Before Arthur could nod his head the other voice spoke up, "Damn it, Al! Don't talk to him!  Move, let me take care of this!" Al was pushed out of the way until all Arthur could see was another blonde head and violet eyes, "Look at me, okay?" was the last thing he heard.

Darkness came too soon.

"Arthur!  Arthur!" Arthur slowly woke realizing he was lying on the beach, the water hitting the bottoms of his feet.  His head slowly turned to see his mother looking down at him.

"Arthur!" she said in a scolding tone, "What are you doing lying down there?  You could have drowned!  Honestly, I've been searching for you for hours and I find you here, napping.  What are you doing so far from our beach?"

Arthur didn't know and nor did he remember the green shell he no longer held in his hand.

~

The next thing Arthur knew was a throbbing headache and someone shaking him lightly (though it felt like he was getting a very severe concussion with every movement).  He gave a pained groan, hands weakly pushing away the hands that were shaking him awake.  

"I'm sorry but I need you to wake up Arthur," the man cringed at the voice, his eye-lids squeezing down harder so he wouldn't have to see the face he knew would be above him.  If only he could sleep, if only hangovers didn't exist… He felt something press against his lips, "Swallow this Arthur, it'll make you feel better."

Whatever it was Arthur nearly bit off Alfred's fingers off to swallow it.  The thing, some kind of pill most likely, was smooth and as Arthur felt it travel down his throat he snuggled into his blankets, hoping to fall into a more painless sleep.  But before he could get too comfortable something pulled him from the warm blankets and hoisted him into the air.  As he was carried Arthur tried to open his increasingly heavy eyelids, "What-?" he mumbled but was cut off.

"Shhh, go to sleep.  It will all be better in the morning," Arthur was too weak to do anything but follow the nice voice's instructions.

Amongst the black of unconsciousness he heard an enchanted echoing voce whisper words into his ear.

My gift to you
The reason for my absence
Magic will take you to port
No harm shall come to you

~

Seconds later it seemed to Arthur that he was on a hard floor and string up at a very annoyingly bright sun.

It took a moment too register just what he was seeing before Arthur literally jumped up.  Spinning around he saw a large sky, a bright sun, a ship…  Whoop! Arthur yelled as he ran to the starboard side of the ship, then to the portside, feeling the salty breeze and looking down at beautiful, empty, blue waters.  He could have wept but instead he ran all around the deck of the ship like a little boy, swinging from the ropes, excitedly climbing to the crow's nest and peering out of it over exaggeratedly.  He wore himself out silly, laughing as he fell to the wooden floorboards, out of breath and that burst of energy.

It was while his heart calmed down that he started to question how he had gotten there.  He hadn't seen or heard Alfred or any other man on the ship for that matter.  The ship… Slowly sitting up he observed the ship with experienced eyes.  It was not a vessel he was familiar with, oak, very large, much larger than the Black Britannia, and rather new looking.  Getting up he walked over to the back of the ship and peered down at the name engraved there.  Phantom's Bane.  He never heard the name before.  Unbidden, the words he had heard while unconscious floated back to him.  My gift to you…

No.  It couldn't be.  Arthur ran below deck, to every room.  There was no one.  Then he came upon the biggest room, the storage room, and gasped.  The room was filled to the point no one could stand in there, with treasure from the cave.  Arthur fell back against the wall behind him before running and sprinting to the front of the ship and looking down at the masthead.  What he saw made him gasp: a woman with short curly hair, the Britannia's masthead.  Was everything, the ship, the treasure…was it all from Alfred?  But how was that possible?  That would mean he planned it…
Arthur shook his head, that wasn't important; all that mattered was that he was free.  Free.  Arthur liked that word considerably more at that moment.

~

He explored the ship to find it stocked with food and water in the kitchen, adequately supplied with guns and ammo, and practically everything needed to run the ship for a few weeks. While he was expecting to run into complications into getting the ship to a port without any men (the amount for a ship this size was around ten men) there turned out to be no need to work.  The ropes seemed to fall in place as if some wind compelled them to tangle into neat knots.  He didn't even have to steer, the ship seemed to know where it was going while Arthur did not.   Arthur could feel the magic in the ship, the words in his dreams only enforcing his certainty.

Without a crew to order or a ship to run, he stuck to sunbathing and leaning off the bow of the ship. The weather helped.  It was perfect, only sun and nice fluffy white clouds that never darkened into storm clouds and a nice wind for the sails.  Soon his pale skin began to turn red.  He really didn't care.

In the days waiting to reach port (three to be exact) Arthur tried to distract himself while he lounged around.  He once again got to see his beloved stars and gleefully stayed up as long as he could, laying in the crow's nest watching them.  As much as he enjoyed it, unwanted thoughts crept into his head, memories of a certain bumbling blonde.

"Haven't you ever wondered what the moon's like?"

"Cheese of course, you git.  What's more to wonder about?"

"Haha, maybe.  Maybe someday we'll figure out how to get up there, on the moon."

"Get your head out of the water, that's impossible."

He really tried to rid all thoughts of the siren with his newfound freedom, tried to stop thinking about how Alfred had given him the ship, promising safe passage, and how the real reason he was gone all those times was because he was rebuilding a ship for him, and how he was the one who saved him when he first drowned, and-no, he didn't want to think about it.  

But even with his determination it still happened at night when he dreamt of a deep soothing voice and warm lips with a hint of salt, and warms hands exploring- He quickly woke up from those dreams, blushing a storm.

And there in his pocket he could feel the little shell.  That damn, green shell.  For some reason he couldn't bring himself to throw it away even though it brought about some memories he'd rather forget again.  Instead he just occasionally (only occasionally, mind you) let his hand rest in his pocket and let the shell brush his fingers (not on purpose).
He cursed himself when he caught his eyes searching the sea with a cocked pistol for a serenading siren.  He had suspected to feel totally liberated and light from his freedom but among these sensations he felt an uncomfortable tug in his chest that he refused to acknowledge.  Quite possibly the worst incident was the morning he woke to a screech and he ran out in nothing but trousers, expecting a voice to say "I'm liking the show Artie!  Take off the pants next!" (damn his imagination).  But instead he found a seagull flying around the mast.  He promptly shot the blasted bird out of the sky.
He arrived at the port an hour later.