The Shipmaster

Ka-Boom!

Torrential rain swept away all visibility, as the driver of the coach fought the team of horses for control.  Bringing them to a stop, he quickly dismounted from the seat, and grasped the reins, speaking to the huge animals soothingly, and patting their powerful necks.
 

The passenger dismounted from the coach, tossing his plumed hat back onto the seat. He turned his face upward, letting the rain drape his long hair along the back of  his neck.  He loved the rain!  This storm was alive with electrical energy: the staccato bursts of light followed by nearly continuous rolling thunder brought the night alive with power.
 

Sicilian thought of the ship he was coming to meet.  He was glad that he'd sent for one of his best captains to come for him.  It would be a real struggle keeping the ship steady in the storm while navigating the narrow inlet of the bay.  The Strega De Lo Mare should be dropping anchor within the hour.
 

He had hoped to be there waiting when the ship arrived, but it had taken too long to find the proper manifests for the investigation he wished to make.  However, at this moment he was glad to be late.  The spectacular display of a nighttime storm in a mountain pass was inspiring to his soul.  It was a vivid reminder that no man on earth had real power.  Nature wields power that can snatch a man from the living in a moment, and cast his body aside, forgotten like an unanswered prayer.
 

The storm quickly passed, and the cold air behind the front gave Sicilian an involuntary shiver.  He looked at his driver.  "Peturo, let's find a warm inn, and a fire at which to warm ourselves."
 

"Aye, Sir!  My sentiments exactly."   The elder ex-sailor winked.  He'd been with Sicilian since the days he was a sailor on one of his ships, and they were very close friends.  "There is a very nice Inn called The Iron Horse  near the foothills to the north.  It should be suitable."
 

Sicilian laughed.  "I think you're going soft, Peturo.  You know neither of us will be happy unless we are on the waterfront."
 

"Aye, Cap'n!"  It was Peturo's turn to laugh.

There were very few rowdies on the waterfront as they arrived.  The storm had driven them to cover for the night, and its icy spray had sobered the drunks.  There was very little sign of life, except for the normal raucous laughter and shouted drunken whoops from the Drop Anchor Tavern.  The Inn was dimly lit, and the swarthy clerk had a glass eye affixed amid a long scar from a saber that ran the full length of his cheek.  He spoke in the salty language of seamen, and his demeanor hinted that he had experience enough to delight any number of Bosun's Mates with tales of  high seas adventure.
 

As he signed the register, Sicilian scanned the names for any that might trigger a memory.  It was a habit from the old days, wanting to know what kind of danger surrounded you while you slept.  The waterfront was no place for the squeamish.  He knew his Captain would spend the night on the ship, and come into town in the morning.  That was one of the impressive things about this one's record.  He was very cautious and courageous, and so far, had never lost a cargo.  That was saying a lot for these times, when the piracy problem had begun to grow worse.
 

It was the piracy that had brought Sicilian to the sea again.  He had a fleet of fifty ships, and the cost of lost cargo and ships was becoming astronomical.  He wasn't sure what could be done about it, but he knew he'd never be able to order his Captains to action unless he had a first hand knowledge of what was happening, and what was possible.
 

Captain Godwin was one of his best Captains.  He would sail with him, and watch the crew.  He placed his hand on the hilt of Wulf Sword ... and if necessary, he would fight beside his captain.  He pulled the sword from its scabbard.  It seemed to emanate an eerie blue glow, and a tingle raced up his arm.  He swept an arc, and it swished music through the air.  It had been a long time since Sikstea, but he was ready!

Dallas D'Angelo-Gary 97