Poseidon's Bane(Jason James Parker) William shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes fixed on the bay’s sunset-stained water as he awaited his fiance-to-be on the dock. He looked down at his freshly-pressed tan trousers and brown brogues, smiling broadly. Though, as he brushed lint from the sleeve of his blue blazer, he grimaced at the plastic arm partially hidden within; Molly hated his prosthetic – she called it his “bullshit arm”. She’d aired a number of grievances over the months they’d spent together, and William often wondered if he’d ever live up to her lofty standards, especially once they were wed.

When she finally arrived, Molly looked ever so sophisticated in her frilly pink frock and high heels, further cementing her superiority. The woman paused suddenly, seemingly displeased with the man’s ensemble, and William’s posture sagged ever so slightly because of it.

‘Are you ready for your romantic sunset sea-voyage, Milady?’ asked William, bowing and affecting a ceremonious tone.

‘Oh, don’t be silly, Willy. It’s just a boring, old cocktail-cruise,’ snapped Molly, tugging on a blonde ringlet. ‘Where is the old tub, anyway?’

‘William,’ corrected the man under his breath, though Molly ignored it. ‘We’re just a little early is all,’ he added, eyeing the watch on his artificial wrist and detecting his partner’s disgust.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, you always–’ Molly’s rant was cut short before it had the chance to really get going. ‘I can see something on the horizon. It’s here!’ she enthused, hopping up and down like an excited child. ‘I can’t wait to get completely wasted!’

William smiled with relief at the vessel’s arrival, though his expression dropped as it drew near; for the ship that now docked was far from what he’d expected. It was not a slick, modern cruiser, with clean lines and keen engines, but an old, creaky galleon with masts and things. To make the situation even more disagreeable, the figurehead protruding from the ship’s prow was that of a screaming crone, with sharp teeth and murderous eyes. Yet, when the gangplank slammed down on the dock’s edge, Molly was eager to embark, and it was all William could do to politely proffer his arm.

‘Not your bullshit-arm, Willy. The proper one!’ chided Molly.

‘Of course. Forgive me,’ he mumbled, correcting the situation.

Once aboard, the pair were engulfed by a rugged, rum-soaked crew rough-hewn by time, salt and hardship; many wanting for eyes, teeth and limbs. ‘Your kind of people,’ whispered Molly into William’s ear.

‘Excuse me,’ said William, placing an unwelcome hand on the scarred shoulder of a passing man hauling rope. ‘I think there’s been some kind of mistake. Is this a sort of… Theme Ship?’

The man dropped his bundle, creaking like dry wood as he turned. ‘Ye be aboard a vessel like none other,’ he said, with an axe-wound smile.
‘Her hull be the bones of conquered sea-beasts,
Her sails are Leviathan’s hide!
She be rigged with the guts of a thousand lost souls,
Afeared by all, far and wide!’

‘I see,’ answered William, exchanging glances with Molly. ‘Perhaps a refund is in order? I’m happy to reschedule for–’

‘You’re on the Poseidon’s Bane now, Bully Boy!’ said a tall, shirtless man with leathery skin, dropping onto the deck from the yardarm.

‘Oh, Willy. We’ve already set-sail. Just enjoy a glass of bottomless bubbles and shut the hell up!’ said Molly, wandering off in search of the bar.

‘What? We’re moving?’ snapped William, looking about nervously. ‘Could I perchance, speak with the captain?’

A vice-like hand latched onto William’s shoulder, and he furtively turned to see an impossibly long gunmetal-grey beard adorned with beads, coins and curios. There was a man in there somewhere, though his ingredients moved oddly, like they’d been consumed by a hirsute tornado. Soon, limbs emerged from the follicular foliage, and one of them held a long, sharp cutlass. ‘Horatio Head-Taker', said the beard. ‘Pleased to have you aboard.’

‘Yes, quite,’ answered William shakily, thoroughly dwarfed by the captain’s impressive height and greatly reduced by his girth. ‘Could I trouble you to make port once more, my good man?’ He pulled a crisp banknote from his bill-fold and casually waved it in Horatio’s direction.

‘I favor doubloons, personally,’ he said, before embedding his sword’s blade into the main-mast with one powerful swing. ‘That’s how your lassie secured my ship for the evening.’

‘Molly?’ spat William, his expression one of consternation.

The woman made her way to William and the captain, spinning like a top; a glass bottle in one hand and her skirts in the other. ‘No champers, I’m afraid. But this Jamaica rum is to die for!’

‘YOU booked this voyage?’ William demanded.

‘Why, yes!’ she said plainly. ‘Oh, Willy, I knew you would have had us on some beastly little dinghy, and the newspaper ad for this one just looked so spiffy!’

‘I see,’ answered William, thrusting a hand into his trouser pocket and fingering the velvet ring-box there. ‘We’ll make do, I suppose.’

‘That’s the spirit!’ yelled Captain Horatio Head-Taker, clapping his hands and rubbing his palms together vigorously. He whistled, and a muscled man decorated with exotic tattoos appeared. ‘Bosun! The paperwork!’ cried the captain. The bosun produced a scroll and quill from a leather pouch on his belt which Horatio snatched up hastily. Pushing a pair of half-moon spectacles up onto the bridge of his crooked nose, he unfurled and proof-read the document, before thrusting it into William’s face. ‘Sign here, if you will.’

‘Oh, what is–’ began William.

‘Sign the bloody thing, Willy!’ Molly interjected, before taking a long tug of rum.

Remembering the ring, William nodded and obeyed, and the captain’s lips retracted, revealing a mouth full of gold, nickel and silver. ‘We have ourselves an accord!’ he exclaimed to the crew, who cheered in response.

‘I must say, the performance-craft aboard your showboat is just second to none, Old Boy!’ stated William, as he slapped the captain on the back amiably.

‘Thank you,’ replied Horatio, pulling his blade from the wood of the mast. ‘Now, if you’d be so kind as to present me with the flesh of your neck.’

‘I’m sorry?’ William answered.

‘No need to apologise. I’ve had far worse,’ chuckled Horatio Head-Taker. ‘I’ll be taking your head… price of admission for your good lady’s berth aboard my ship.’ The tall, wide sea-faring man bent down and whispered to William conspiratorially. ‘Don’t feel too bad, Matey. No lass can resist the lure of the Sea.’

The gravity of his predicament came down upon William at once, and the colour quickly drained from him. A sinewy cabin boy laughed uproariously from his perch overhead and several swabbies joined in as the man up and bolted away from the captain and his sword on unsteady legs. Running past the mizzenmast to the quarterdeck, he could feel Horatio’s looming bulk gaining on him, yet a backward glance revealed that Molly was hardly concerned for his well being. William stopped in his tracks, a growing ache in his chest far worse than any inflicted by a physical blade. ‘Molly, my love?’ called William, though the woman’s gaze quickly dropped to her feet. ‘I’ve been a fool, haven’t I?’ he muttered to himself. In that moment, some essential part of William detached, and he imagined it sinking into the ocean’s deepest abyss.

The captain, sensing his moment, lunged at the smaller man with his cutlass aloft. William’s adrenaline surged, and he took a firm hold of the gunwale with his good hand, instinctively ducking his head. Horatio’s vicious swing missed its mark, and the big man’s momentum saw that he grossly overshot his target. Resigning himself to his fate overboard, the captain grasped William’s arm in a last-minute bid to take the man with him into the boiling sea below. Horatio’s eyes became saucers when William’s arm simply snapped free of his body. Horatio Head-Taker and William’s bullshit-arm plunged into the briny deep that day, never to be seen again.

William straightened himself, staggering slightly and eyeing the space once occupied by his ill-favored prosthetic. The tattooed bosun materialized at his side, and William steeled himself for a fight, though the muscular man simply bowed his head. ‘You’re the first man to defeat our captain in battle. Our code dictates that the Poseidon’s Bane… now be yours,’ he said in earnest.

William’s heartbeat quickened and a surging sensation like nothing he’d ever known arose in him, from his feet to his chest, finding a home finally behind his eyes. ‘I will proudly be your captain!’ His victorious cry was met with vigorous cheers from the crew.

The bosun turned his attention to Molly, now cowering by the cockboats. ‘What would become of her, Captain?’

‘She will be allowed to tend to her beau,’ answered William calmly, eliciting much relief from the woman.

‘Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!’ cried Molly, her hands clasped together as she fell to her knees. ‘I will make you happy, Willy. I promise!’

‘Throw her overboard!’ ordered the new captain. ‘The God of the Sea can bloody well wed her to Horatio the Defeated in the Deep!’ he called. The ship’s men dragged the screaming woman to starboard and tossed her into the water. William ambled to the edge soon after, watching po-faced as the weight of her frilly, pink dress sent his never-to-be-fiance to the Locker. ‘My arm shall be her dowry,’ he added, as he pulled the ring-box from his pocket and sent it in after her. ‘And my name is William. Captain William One-Arm.’

---