Millennials In The Time Of Ghosts And Pirates—Five Minute Freewrite

"Ye're fate lies on yon barque."

The withered ferry master stabbed a wrinkled finger into the filmy fog, his voice rasping.

"Wait. Did he say bark?" one of the lads with him said. "We're looking for a boat."

"I told you this guy was ancient," the other one said. "That's what he meant."

In silence, they rowed closer on the old man's rickety raft, until all could see the outline of the three-masted ship. After a while, more of it seemed to form from the fog, including a rope ladder that dangled to the water.

"T'is the devil's work what awaits ye there," the ferry master said as the lads scaled the hulking sides. "Ye've been warned."

END OF FIVE MINUTES

---

"Did he say something?" one of the lads asked the other.

"Maybe. I wasn't listening."

The long ascent took well over twenty minutes, each lad needing to stop a few times to catch their breath. They were both terribly out of shape since all they did all day was listen to Baroque music, down grog and snack on scotched collops. Their parents often said they'd never survive as helmsmen, their dream job since their childhood, but would more likely end up like bilge rats.

The lads were here to prove them wrong, and to prove to each other that they were both capable of high adventure and great feats of bravery the likes of which had never hitherto been seen. After insulting one another with mild vulgarities, they made it to the top and fell in a heap on the deck, heaving heavily.

"Dude," the one said, in between breaths, "That. Was. Awesome!"

After slapping their hands together, they began to survey the scene. Through the mist, they were able to make out most of the fore deck and a part of the aft. Strangely, no one was about.

"Where is everyone?" the other lad wondered. "We need to find the captain."

"Just another minute," the one said, still gasping for air, "I could really use some grog."

"No grog until we prove ourselves, remember?"

"Oh, right."

A few minutes later, they made their way to the helm, passing masts with partially tied sales whipping in the morning breeze. After climbing creaking stairs, they stood before the large wooden wheel.

"There it is!" the one lad squealed. 'I want to touch it."

"The captain?"

"Right."

Behind them was an ornate door which, presumably, led to the captain's quarters. Hesitating, the other lad finally knocked. After a few moments of standing in the gloom, receiving no answer, he knocked once more. Again, nothing.

"Maybe it's open," the one lad said.

The other lad twisted the brass handle. The latch gave way, howling it's resistance. The two stepped through the doorway, peering into the pitch. Presently, the other lad happened upon a lamp and managed to light it.

Nothing but dust, cobwebs and shadows met their gaze.

"I don't like this," the other lad said. "This ship's been abandoned. For a long time from the looks of it."

"We haven't looked below deck," the one lad offered. "Maybe they're all down there sleeping off last night's bender."

"The captain, too?"

"Too wasted to get to his bed?"

"And no one could help him?"

"Let's go."

Scrambling to the deck, they found the first of three hatches leading below. There were likely at least two separate compartments, so they checked all three holes to be sure. With each one, they became increasingly worried.

"There's nothing here," the one lad said, re-emerging from the third hatch.

"Nothing," the other lad said, "No cargo, no rations, no crew."

"That old dude tricked us! He said..."

"He said this was a ship we could sail. He didn't say there'd be anyone or anything on it."

"How are we going to sail it by ourselves?"

"We can't. We just need to get out of here. Let's see if we can find the lifeboat."

"Not yet," the one lad said. He looked aft towards the helm. "I need to touch it first."

"I don't think that's a good idea..."

"Why not? We're it. No one's going to know if I touch it."

"What if you..."

"What? Break it? Come on, dude. You know you want to touch it, too."

The one lad hurried back up the stairs to stand before the great wheel. The other lad followed reluctantly. As he did, the one lad couldn't resist and reached out to grasp one of the mahogany handles. He pulled it down a few degrees clockwise. The ship, which apparently was moving despite having all sails furled, turned slightly to starboard.

"Did you feel that!" the one lad shouted, as his being filled with pure glee.

"You're a helmsman!" the other lad yelled back with just as much enthusiasm.

"I'm a helms..."

"AVAST!"

The startling command thundered from behind the one lad, who couldn't help but jump and let out a squeaky, "Eeek!" He moved away from the wheel and pivoted to look toward the captain's cabin. Standing in the doorway was a hulking figure, its outline somewhat blurred, its clothes and other parts softly billowing. There was a sickly green cast to it.

"Who are ye, and what be ye doin' with me Lassie!"

"Y-y-you're lassie?" the one lad managed. "We haven't seen anybody..."

"He means the ship," the other lad said. "She's called the Briny Lassie."

"Shouldn't that be Bonny Lassie or something..."

"SILENCE!"

"Okay."

The figure floated from the darkened doorway, his features becoming more prominent as he neared: the countenance of a man hardened by the sea and by a thousand misdeeds, mid-to-late-thirties, captain's hat and coat, flowing beard and mustache, glowing eyes, pistol and long sword tethered to a bulking frame, somewhat hunched, as if even the open air was too small for him to pass.

"We were hoping to join your crew, Captain," the other lad said. "Looks like you could use our help."

At first, the ghostly figure seemed to wheeze, but the sound emanating from him built and built until it burst forth in a gale of guffaws.

"Sail!" the ghost exclaimed, interrupting his own mirth. "You? With me?!"

"He's got a point," the one lad said, encouraged by the joviality. "You're kind of alone here?"

"Ahoy, ye scalawags!" The captain bellowed, seemingly to no one. "Present yerselves!"

In an instant, where nothing had been before, the two lads found themselves surrounded by a full ship's complement.

"What say ye, now?" the captain said, leering.

"That's a lot of scalawags," the one lad said.

"Give us a lifeboat, and we'll take our leave," the other lad said.

"I'm more inclined to watch ye float with the fishes," the captain said.

"Or, we could just stay here," the one lad said.

"Ye don't seem to be graspin' yer situation," the captain said, leaning closer.

"Oh, I'm getting it," the one lad said, a smile broadening. "Best. Day. Ever!" With a hue and cry, he turned back to the wheel and began giving orders. "Raise the mizzen mast! Jib the topsails!"

"What?" the captain said, "Those aren't even..."

"Tote that barge! Lift that bail!" The other lad added.

Visibly confused, the ghostly crew at first paused, but then began to obey.

"Stop! What are ye..." the captain said aghast. What was happening? How had these two whelps taken over his ship? And why were they even so unperturbed, much less hurling commands?

"No use, dude," the other lad said, "We're taking over now. That's what millennials do."

Hand on his forehead, the ghoulish captain slowly turned back towards his cabin.

"I need to lie down," he said.

About This Post

This post is part of the daily five minute freewrite. Today's prompt is bark. If you'd like to participate, simply incorporate the prompt in your own post, use the #freewrite tag, and link to your post in a comment on @mariannewest's prompt post.

_{Image source—Pixabay}