The Devil And The Deep

A Short Story.

(THE FOLLOWING JOURNAL ENTRY, WAS FOUND AMONGST THE RUBBLE OF A LONG ABANDONED SEA SIDE VILLIAGE):

In me twilight years, there ain’t much I can recall from me days as a young buck. ‘Specially those days when I was naught but a cabin boy aboard the mighty vessel Sebastian. The faces of me shipmates and the captain, as well as ol’ Henrey, the ship’s night watch, remain etched in me memory. But the finer details, ye see, elude me weary mind. Yet, there be certain moments that even an old salt like meself can’t forget. Moments I wish I could erase from me mind…

I pen these words not as a warnin’, but more as a tale of curiosity. Consider it the end ramblin’s of an old man, committed to parchment to preserve ’em ’til the time comes for wiser souls to take a more scientific stance.

It was the year 1802, a time when we had just stocked up on salted pork and much-needed ale for the long voyage ahead. We also had a cargo destined for the east, a journey that the crew weren’t lookin’ forward to, to be sure. I remember the grumbles of frustration amongst the men, but they soldiered on nonetheless. Thankfully, none of these lads were pressed into service—we had a good crew, willing and able. 

We set sail that very afternoon toward our destination, the sea as calm as a sleeping babe. Not a single cloud adorned the heavens. But as night descended upon us, a thick blanket of clouds rolled in, covering the sky like a hearty stew. The moon disappeared from sight, leaving us engulfed in a darkness so deep that ye couldn’t distinguish where the sky ended and Davy Jones’ locker began. These nights of complete blackness always sent shivers down me spine, but this particular night was unlike any I had experienced afore as a young ship’s lad.

The silence, ye see, it grew so deafening that ye could hear the very wood of the ship settle and creak. It was an eerie quiet, so profound that even the sound of yer own blood coursing through yer veins reached yer ears if ye stood still for too long. The only shred of natural light was the lightening from some unseen storm, no thunder graced ye ears though, troublin’.

Sleep eluded me that night, so I reckoned a stroll might calm me restless soul. Ol’ Henrey, the trusted night watchman, knew these waters like the back of his hand, and he made sure not to shine his lantern too far, mindful of the lurking pirates that infested these parts. We felt secure with ol’ Henrey’s presence—I felt secure.

Ol’ Henrey was the toughest salt dog that ever graced the decks of a ship. He stood tall at 6 foot 3, with a barrel chest and arms as thick as tree trunks. He had lost an eye while defending a crew long forgotten from scoundrels trying to send them to a watery grave. His remaining eye was a piercing baby blue that could stare through ye very soul if he got angry with ye. A giant of a man, to be sure, but with a heart as soft as a lass’s inner thigh.

As I made me way across the wooden bridge, I saw ol’ Henrey drawing on his wooden pipe, leaning against the railing of the ship and gazing out at the sea with his one good eye. As a young lad, I knew that ol’ Henrey’s presence would bring some much-needed comfort and protection this night, so I approached him and tugged at his sleeve.

What happened next was unlike anything I had ever seen from ol’ Henrey in all the three years I had served aboard that ship. He jumped in fear, something that was completely out of character for a man of his experience and courage.

“Oh, young lad, beware of approaching this old sea dog, lest ye awaken the ghosts that haunt me,” Old Henry cautioned in a hushed tone, careful not to disturb the slumbering crew. “What brings ye out here in the dark?” he inquired, placing his pipe between his teeth to take another soothing draw. He attempted to conceal his trembling hand, but I discerned the faint quiver caused by his edginess. 

“The silence, it’s almost too deafening,” I remarked, unsure of how me words would be received. I knew sounding of a madman could lead to a stint in the brig, for fear of succumbing to cabin fever. However, Old Henry’s narrowed gaze revealed his knowin’ as he puffed on his pipe, allowing the wisps of smoke tolazily escape through his grizzled beard. I sensed he understood.

“Aye, aye, the quiet… I hear it too, me lad. I’m glad someone else feels it tonight. Perhaps ye possess a sensitivity to the spirits, which will serve ye well when ye, like me, become an old sea dog,” Old Henry murmured in a low voice. 

His weathered eye scanned the ebony expanse, whilst he savored another leisurely drag from his pipe. And there, he uttered words that shall remain etched in me memory as long as I draw breath into these barnacle-laden lungs, “I’ve sailed these waters afore, somethin’ lurks out yonder, I fear, me young lad. Somethin’ not rightly belongin’.” Me blood turned to ice at those words, and visions of legendary beasties sprang to life in me mind, conjurin’ tales spun by me grandpappy on his creaky old knee—tales of ancient mermaids and krakens. Ol’ Henry glanced back at me, his gaze catchin’ sight of me ghostly pallor. With a mighty paw, he laid it upon me shoulder, leanin’ close to impart some comfort. “Fret not, lad. So long as we stay anchored aboard the good ship Sebastian and keep our lanterns dim, we should fare well,” Ol’ Henry reassured me. Once more, his gaze fixated on the abyss, his hand tremblin’ upon me shoulder.

Ol’ Henry knew better than to send me scurrying below deck like a landlubber. Instead, he fetched a couple o’ small barrels and a slightly larger one to serve as our makeshift table. To steady our nerves, he poured two hearty mugs of ale, and we settled down, spinnin’ yarns about the days gone by, swappin’ tales of our lives ashore—lives that felt as distant as a mermaid’s kiss from where we found ourselves now. Time lost all reckonin’ in the eternal darkness that clung to us like barnacles. Exhausted, I rested me noggin against the salt-soaked planks of the railin’ and slipped into a slumber, only to be plagued by dreams of monstrous sea critters lurkin’ beneath the waves.

A gentle hand shook me, jolting me from me sea-induced slumber. Me heavy eyelids fluttered open to reveal Ol’ Henry standin’ beside me, starin’ out into the abyss. The dim lantern barely cast a glow, but the moon peeked through the clouds, provide a glimmer of light that kissed Ol’ Henry’s face. More Lightening traced above us like the gods where calling out some beacon of emergency. I looked to Ol’ Henry once more, his good eye widened to the point that it looked ready to jump ship, and he leaned in closer to me, his voice low and urgent.

“Ye be a fine lad, now make haste and fetch the captain and the crew! Tell ’em ol’ Henry says we need all hands on deck, ready to man the cannons. Go swiftly, lad!” I sprang up from me barrel, gazin’ out into the impenetrable darkness. Far off on the distant horizon, I beheld the very sight that had sent Ol’ Henry into a frenzy. Two colossal orbs seemed to float out above the sea, glowin’ with an otherworldly light that neither reflected upon the water nor pierced the darkness. Nay, it burned with a sickly yellow hellfire that caused me very bladder to weaken. Just as me heart quaked, a bolt of lightning slashed through the sky, revealin’ a sight that haunts me to this day—the orbs were eyes belongin’ to a monstrous devil of a creature. It sported tentacles akin to a squid for its face, wings outstretched like a bat, and a body that reeked of unspeakable demonic horror. Vomit threatened to surge from me gut, but Ol’ Henry seized me shoulder once more, givin’ me a forceful shove toward the quarters. “Go now, me lad! Go now!” he bellowed, urgency drippin’ from his voice like seawater from a leaky hull.

I sprinted with all me young might, me legs carryin’ me swiftly to the captain’s quarters and then down to the men below. The crew sprang into action, rushin’ to their stations, preparin’ for a battle that loomed on the horizon. The captain seized me by the arm, his grip firm as he demanded that I lead him to where Ol’ Henry stood, so he could witness the danger with his own eyes. We ascended to the deck, where Ol’ Henry clung to a harpoon as if his life depended on it. His gaze shifted from the captain to me, and than to the sea, the Devil was gone, his expression twisted into a visage of pure horror.

“Captain, it was there, but it vanished back into the depths. We must change our course, headin’ for land, any land, to escape these cursed waters,” Ol’ Henry pleaded. The captain studied me, then turned his attention back to Ol’ Henry. His eyes than darted and lingered on the empty jug of ale and the two cups, and gradually, his alarm subsided, replaced by a sense of annoyance. “How many times, Henry, must we endure these drunken false alarms?” the captain retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of anger. Ol’ Henry redirected his gaze, first back to the abyss, then to me. “Captain, the lad here, he saw the devil too. Sir, these sights ain’t the result of me drinkin’. We must…” 

The captain, he did cut ol’ Henrey short with a mighty stomp upon the deck using his boot. “Nary another tale of fancy shall I endure this eve, Henrey,” he bellowed. “Sturgil be taking charge of the watch. Rest your weary bones, my aged friend,” added the captain, his voice laden with sympathy. Ol’ Henrey, wise enough to know that his captain would not entertain the ramblings of a drunken soul, nor pay heed to the words of a lowly cabin boy, dropped his harpoon and made his way to his quarters, dispirited. That night, I shared a room with ol’ Henrey, and neither of us closed an eye, for we feared that the very devil of the deep would return to claim us for bearing witness to his true form. No sound did we hear, only an eerie silence blanketed the air. At dawn’s break, me and ol’ Henrey emerged from his quarters, venturing out onto the deck to a sight that shall forever haunt my dreams. The morning breeze carried the tang of salt, crisp and refreshing, while a fog draped itself around us. The crew, gathered in a huddled mass, fixed their gaze upon a spectacle near the edge of the deck.

Me and ol’ Henrey, we pushed our way through the throng, makin’ our path to where their eyes were locked. Sturgil, he sat atop the very barrel I had rested upon the night prior, but his head was missin’, severed clean from his body. If ’twas that devil’s doin’, ’twas a bleedin’ warning, mateys. With his monstrous size, he could’ve hauled us down into the depths afore we could even mutter a prayer for forgiveness. When we made port that afternoon, the only souls privy to that forebodin’ sign were meself and ol’ Henrey. We both never hoisted the sails again, mark me words.

I took up a post at the local tavern, pourin’ grog and mopin’ the floors. Ol’ Henrey, he’d frequent the place, tossin’ me an extra coin or two, always sharin’ that knowing glance. We had stared into the eyes of the devil himself and lived to tell the tale. Not a single word ’bout that eerie night ever passed our lips, but we carried the weight of it in our souls. Meanwhile, the Sebastian and her crew, they set sail after we chose to remain ashore. Alas, the Sebastian never returned to port, lost to the depths, she was. Some claim she fell prey to maraudin’ pirates, her crew slaughtered, her treasures pillaged and tossed into the brine. But me and ol’ Henrey, we know the true fate that befell ’em, for we witnessed it firsthand. The Devil gave us both a reprive, but only for limited amount of time.

I kept silent ’bout that fateful night, until now, as I pen these very words. Yet, the same darkness that enshrouded me and ol’ Henrey, it has returned to our seaside hamlet once more. It arrived on the eve when ol’ Henrey breathed his last, taking him into the waves, and tonight, it comes for me. I have no fear in me bones, but mayhaps the devil that rises from the depths shall take pity on an old sea dog like meself, and makes my trip to the deep, an easy one.