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Dream Chamber Adventures
Copyright 2012 N.Y. Weaver
Captain Gold and the Flying Dutchman
An elegant battleship’s bow sliced through the sparkling, thrashing deep blue of the North Pacific Ocean. The ship was dimly lit by a full moon shining overhead. Only Tom Gold, the ship’s tall, young captain was still awake. At twenty-five, his physical appearance and attire deceived the eye into thinking he was much older. Standing at the ship’s helm his hands resolutely gripped the ship’s wheel, accentuating the cuts and scars that were the result of innumerable previous battles. His left eye carried a deep scar covered only partially by a faded black eye-patch. As was his nature, his signature large, cobalt blue overcoat concealed two sheathed daggers, a cutlass and his trusty Baby Dragoon revolver. He ran his weathered fingers through his thick blonde hair and out of his one good eye. The time was near.
The next morning the thirty-strong crew began to wake from their cabins, pour onto the deck of the Napoléon and then converge down the stairway towards the galley. One by one they gathered themselves a hearty breakfast of eggs and salted pork prepared by the chef and took their seats at a vast circular oak table in the adjacent mess hall. The magnificent vessel was once the lead battleship of the French Navy, now the spoils of a daring and elaborate heist taken place three years prior by the ambitious crew. The heist was the foundation of Captain Gold’s infamousness and by the winter of 1864, Gold and his loyal crew were simultaneously celebrated and feared among their pirate brethren.
Heavy drops of rain abruptly began to plummet from the sky and thud on the deck of the ship that was also the roof of the mess hall. Gold was already seated at the large round table gazing unusually mystifyingly into the distance. On his right sat his faithful first mate, a burly and brave man by the name of Peter.
“Why the long face Capt’n?” a scrawny joker by the name of Johnny called out cheerfully, “Did ya take a look at your own ugly mug in the mirror this morning or something?”
“Johnny,” Peter said smiling “I could count how many teeth you have left on my right hand!”
“You know how to count? And here I was thinking your big head was going to waste!” Johnny replied laughing.
“Jokes aside, you do look uneasy today Captain,” piped one of the Roger twins, “Have you lost hope of finding it?”
“No, it’s out there somewhere. Time is on our side.” Gold returned confidently to the now fully-seated table. “However, we may have to postpone our hunt. Last night, the seas… they felt sinister, as if a great darkness would soon descend upon this ship.”
There was a shout outside the hall from the top of the ship’s main mast.
“Captain! A quarter-mile starboard! It’s Redbeard!”
A grim look came upon Captain Gold’s face. He reached into his waist and raised his cutlass high, slicing through the air with such ferocity that eyes widened.
“Men, get to your battle stations, ready your weapons, loads the cannons and remember, we’re PIRATES!”
A chorus of “Arghh!” and “Aye-Aye!” arouse and the crew charged up the stairway, swords drawn and scattered to their positions on the deck where it was pouring rain. Within a minute Redbeard’s deathly black ship, the notoriously evil Flying Dutchman was upon them. Only half the size of the Napoléon but four times as menacing, Redbeard and his crew of fiends and crooks had secured the most feared and dreaded pirate ship in all of the seven seas. Rising from the unknown Redbeard himself had accumulated his own reputation in the last five years as a villain among villains, notorious for beheading his enemies with a huge double-bladed, blood-stained axe.
“Men, we will always remember this day,” Gold cried out theatrically as the Dutchman came near enough at their side that the voracious, snarling faces of Redbeard’s crew could be seen, “As the day we sent the Flying Dutchman back to Davy Jones’ Locker! FIRE THE CANNONS!”
“Nay Captain, this be the day you die.” Redbeard laughed through his scraggly, soaking wet beard as his ship was bombarded with cannonballs, by which it was seemingly unaffected.
“This be the Devil’s ship, you cannot touch her! And as long as I live, so does she!” Redbeard said triumphantly as his crew threw their grappling hooks onto the side of the Napoléon so that the two ships became locked together.
Redbeard menacingly lifted his axe high into the raining sky and uttered three words. “Kill. Them. All.”
Within seconds Redbeard’s crew had scaled up their thick ropes and scrambled onto the Napoléon, shooting, slashing and striking at the first face they came upon. They were scrawny in stature and rat-like in their movements, while their leader, Redbeard, stood short and massive, beckoning and taunting Gold to duel him alone on the Flying Dutchman.
“Fight me Captain Coward!” he shouted in a shrill voice while twirling in a circle.
At the ship’s wheel Johnny soon found himself surrounded by four angry sword-wielding opponents. The tallest of them lunged at cowering figure, only for his sword to be deflected to the ground by Gold’s cutlass. In two swift simultaneous motions Gold violently pulled his sword to the right, the hilt knocking the attacker to the floor unconscious and kicked the chin of the attacker in front of him, snapping his neck. Gold then drove his sword to the left stabbing the third attacker through the throat and splattering red across the deck, while in the meantime Johnny disposed of the final attacker with a sharp jab to side of the head.
Captain Gold’s crew held their ground, dodging and blocking the strikes of Redbeard’s crew, waiting for their moment to strike. The burly first mate Peter was by far the most destructive, disarming, picking up and throwing his opponents overboard, reducing them to hurling petty obscenities at him. The Roger twins stood back to back also doing their best to fend of their numerous assailants, finding openings when their attackers attempted to strike. The pirates mostly fought with cutlasses, swords and daggers, their guns being almost useless in short range combat. Another man overboard, another stabbed through the chest, there were heavy casualties on both sides. Slowly but surely Gold and his men began to outnumber that of their attackers.
“Peter, come with me, we’re taking down Redbeard and his goddamn ship” Gold yelled to his loyal mate.
Peter grunted in agreement whilst pile-driving two attackers into the main mast. Picking himself up he ran to join Gold. From the edge of the Napoléon Captain Gold leaped down onto the Dutchman, his blue overcoat fluttering furiously and Peter loyally followed suit, landing with a loud thud on the hard black wood.
An aura of death lingered on the Dutchman. The air seemed thinner, their bodies heavier and life itself gloomier. The skull and bones of the Jolly Roger hung lifeless. Fighting his surroundings Gold pulled from his holster his precious Baby Dragoon and aimed at Redbeard who stood smiling just a few steps in front of him. From a closer distance they could now see his eyes, small and fully black.
“Why did you come for us?” Gold shouted, pain escaping though his voice.
“We aren’t just coming for you, we’re coming for everyone!” he replied laughing while brandishing the long handle of his menacing axe with his huge right arm.
“This guy’s crazy Gold! Kill him, before he kills us!” said Peter desperately.
With that Redbeard sprung forward and swung the blade of his bloody axe, narrowly missing Peter’s torso as he lunged back but instead slicing Gold’s right hand clean off, hand and revolver cluttering to the ground as Gold roared in pain.
Peter charged forward fearlessly taking Redbeard to the ground and knocking his axe out of his grasp. Gold picked up the axe with his left arm, put a foot on Redbeard’s chest and with a backhand motion beheaded the villainous captain with his l
eft arm. But what he saw next made his breath falter and heart jump. The blood that was dripping into a puddle where Redbeard’s neck and disconnected head lay. His blood wasn’t red. It was green.
His head still spinning, Gold noticed tattered folds of paper sticking out from Redbeard’s coat pocket. Giving into his curiosity he picked up and opened it, revealing a hand drawn map of the Pacific Ocean with a golden speck drawn in its centre with accompanying co-ordinates. Smiling despite heavily bleeding from his severed right hand, he pocketed the map and retrieved his unused Baby Dragoon. Peter assisted Gold as they climbed the ropes back to the Napoléon where the deadly battle lay finished with only seven of their crew members remaining. They severed the thick ropes linking the ships and with hundreds of flaming rags stuck in rum bottles burned the Flying Dutchman to the ocean floor.
Himeji Castle
Musashi was the greatest swordsman the world had ever seen. Yet due to his purposely secluded nature, very few had seen him. He was raised in a grand castle the son of a rich Daimyo, an old, vicious and powerful warlord. When his father was killed by an old foe, Musashi, then only thirteen years old, inherited the grand Himeji Castle. He grew up reclusive, expressing his warmth to only a chosen circle. Alone meditating