The Crow And The Crew

Amidst the gentle rumbling of the waves against the shore and the low crackling of the torches along the path, a crow scratched into its branch looking for insects. The torches cast the small island with an orange glow and illuminated the dull grey clouds above. Ash covered the ground and swirled in the breeze, rising higher and spreading further as the wind picked up. A storm was coming. The ocean rose and fell, dislodging stones from the bank as it withdrew. Thunder echoed in the distance, punching through the din of the sea at night. The lightning encroached on the island, drawing nearer with each strike. Still, the crow dug into the branch.

            A drop of rain hit the trunk of the tree, attacking at an angle. As the rain began to fall, the crow stopped. Unsatisfied with its meal, it beat its wings and took to the air in search of more. The moon was hidden behind the thick grey clouds and smoke from the small fires below, so the crow was barely visible from the ground. It flew out over the water, making its way north; a shiny beak leading a camouflaged body through the clouds. As it passed over the waves the storm caught up; soon the crow was fighting against the wind to keep its bearings. Something appeared on the horizon, a tall structure. Shelter. The crow struggled through the storm towards this blot in the middle of the ocean. It wasn’t the only visitor. Thirty feet below a small schooner made the same perilous journey, navigating the violent waves towards the same spot. A crew of no more than ten worked hard to keep the ship on course, their efforts lit only by the intermittent lightning.

To conserve its energy the bird landed hard on the deck, close to the rail to avoid getting trampled. The crew took no notice as they hurried to-and-fro, wrestling with the hazardous weather to complete their journey. One man, shorter than the others by a noticeable amount, barked orders from the wheel. If the others heard him, they didn’t show it. They moved as one, almost rhythmically, as if they always worked in these conditions.

Coming into view, the island on which this mysterious structure stood was surrounded by jagged rocks and a sheer drop to the ocean; there were few places to land a ship save for the makeshift dock at the north side, near the base of the foreboding silhouette. Barely ten-foot-long, it looked like it would collapse under the weight of too much cargo. Fortunately, the ship didn’t seem to be carrying much. The building itself was a fortress of dark stone. There were barred windows carved into the curved face of the stone, spaced some twelve feet apart going up the structure; the higher levels pierced through the clouds above. Little chance of food, but at least the crow could avoid the worst of the storm.

As the ship turned to meet the dock on its port side the bird took off once more. It settled on a ledge about fifty feet up on the fortress and turned to watch the ship attempt, with difficulty, to dock. As the small crew finally secured the ship, they hopped over the railing onto steady ground. They didn’t offload any cargo, nor did they approach the fortress. They just stood. And waited.

Directly below the crow, the distinctive clanking of pulled chains rang out as a heavy metal gate rose up. From its vantage point the crow saw two men in red coats appear from this entrance and shout at the crew. As they made their way down the steep steps towards the ship the crewmen said nothing in return, instead dividing into two groups to make space for the new arrivals.

The rain poured harder as the redcoats walked up to the ship. They made no contact with the crew, instead boarding the ship and disappearing below deck. As they re-emerged, they pulled something up with them. Something moving.

To get more cover the crow jumped back a little, between two iron bars. Its eyes were trained on something glinting in the firelight as the redcoats threw it over the side onto the dock. A metal chain, attached at one end to an old man’s leg and at the other, a young boy’s. They were both ragged and thin, with bruises and cuts along their skeletal limbs. Lifted roughly to their feet, they were held in place by the redcoats as one member of the crew hesitantly spoke up. A redcoat pulled a small pouch from their belt and threw it over the railing onto the deck of the ship. The crewmen shared a glance and, with a collective sigh of relief, returned to their ship. They wasted no time disembarking.

The redcoats turned away from the sea and dragged the two chained men up the steps towards the fortress, drawing nearer and nearer to the crow until all it could see was the tops of their heads below, and the chain, still catching the light from the torches, trailing slightly behind them. The ship was back in the midst of the storm, yet again facing the sea’s violent beatings as it retraced its route back as best it could. It was time, too, for the crow to depart. It shook its wings out and scanned the island, trying to source its next meal. It kicked off with its legs as two hands shot out from behind and clamped down around it, pinning its wings to its body. Through the iron bars the crow was pulled back into the depths of the dark room. A single feather floated gently down, too close to the fortress to be claimed by the storm. It landed on the path in front of the iron gate as it fell back down with a crash behind the prisoners. They, too, were swallowed by the darkness inside.