A few thousand kilometers away from Mathew, somewhere in the middle of the Phlegethon Sea, sailed a ship.
The sea was dark, and the clouds covered the sky, hiding the setting sun from view. Murky waves lapped against the sides of the Zheng Yi as it rocked back and forth.
A young man named Abram was currently scrubbing the deck as he cursed himself for his own stupidity.
He had had a much more romantic vision in his head about his future when he had first enlisted to become a pirate. As a street urchin whose only path in life was to end up dead in a gutter somewhere, the prospect of sailing under Henry 'Black Sails' Morgan, on his flagship no less, had seemed glorious.
Truth was often disappointing.
Abram had been a crew member for about a week, and all he had done was scrub the deck, clean the head, and untie or retie hundreds of knots all day every day. He was already completely exhausted from the tedious lifestyle.
The sound of a man's voice caught his attention, and he paused his labor to look up. The captain himself was talking to the crew, which was gathering around him. He was a rugged man with long brown hair that ran past his shoulders and thin sideburns framing his face. Abram had seen him around, but had never directly interacted with him.
A thick rope had been tied around the captain's waist, and his arms were out as if welcoming rain.
"The rest of the world fears the depths of the Phlegethon Sea," He was saying, "They tell stories of the ancient beasts that lurk underneath waves in order to scare their children. But we do not fear nor do we hide. The ocean is our treasure trove, from which we will become the richest men in the world!"
A large cacophony of cheers sounded through the crowd. Abram gawked at the spectacle, curious as to what was going on. The captain nodded to his boatswain, Valos, who waved a red and white flag high in the air.
A handful of other ships nearby responded with crew members waving similar flags. These ships were also part of the Red Fleet under Captain Morgan. Once the signal was mirrored, the ships moved so they formed a large circle, with enough space in between each one to let an entire ship through.
Then Valos waved his flag again, and all ships in the circle, around 7 of them, all dropped their anchors in quick succession.
Then, much to Abram's surprise, Morgan leaped off the side of the ship. Abram gasped in shock as he watched the captain assume perfect diving form and slip effortlessly into the water.
Abram ran to the bulwark, grabbing the rail with both hands as he cast his gaze to the ripples pushing out from where the captain had just gone. What was he thinking? Was he really diving for treasure? He had a rope, but was that really enough to protect him?
"Be careful round the edge there, lad," came the gruff voice of a crew-mate in Abrams ear. He flinched and looked back at the older man who had spoken to him. He remembered the man's name as Caltry.
"Is the captain crazy? We're out on the Phlegethon… What about monsters?"
"What about em? Yer a newbie, sure, but you know bout the captain, else you'd have never signed on with him, right?"
"Who doesn't know of 'Black Sails' Morgan? But being famous doesn't make you unkillable."
"Sure enough, but captains got more than that on his side. Dives like this don't just bring riches, they bring artifacts of great power. Hell, the Firelance was one such item." Caltry gestured toward the bow of the ship, where a massive tube-like device was mounted. Apparently, it was some magical artillery weapon named by Morgan that could sink enemy ships with ease.
"He pulled that thing from the bottom of the ocean?" Abram asked with wide eyes.
"Somethin' like that. Point is, you shouldn't go underestimating the captain."
Abram nodded his understanding, his eyes going back to where the rope met the water.
"He's still down there… How do we know he hasn't drowned?"
"I've seen him stay underwater for an hour straight without commin' up. Has many secrets, he does. Not even I know em all, and I've been with the captain for close to a decade now."
"What if a monster from the deep shows up? Could he even fight one off?" Abram was starting to believe Caltry's words. Captain Morgan was world-renowned for a reason.
"Dunno. Maybe a small one. If worst comes to worst, we can always use the Lance… Though we'd need permission from the Captain."
"How could he give us permission if he's still diving?"
"Hmmm…" Caltry said, rubbing his chin. "Well, there's one more on the ship who could give permission… but I would never ask her myself. Safer to let her come to us."
"…Her?" Abram asked, trying to think of which member of the crew he could be talking about. Caltry opened his mouth to answer the question, but shouts from all around them interrupted him. Men were pointing to something out on the horizon.
A massive something was moving toward them at an alarming rate. It looked like a large shadow bigger than a ship, and was carrying with it a massive wave.
It was almost as though it was pulling the ocean itself along with it.
"It's a monster!" Abram shouted.
"Looks like a Leviathan. Not aggressive, but makes a big mess wherever it goes. It's 'bout to get bumpy." Caltry's warning was stern but calm. Once it was given, he scurried off to help the others with preparations.
Abram watched the man as he left, then looked back to where the captain's rope was. Why was he still down there? Were they not going to pull him up? Wasn't that dangerous?
The ship lurched as the first massive wave finally hit. Abram lost his grip as his chest slammed into the rail. A second wave hit shortly after, before Abram could catch his balance, and he was sent careening over the side of the ship.
He was hurtling toward his doom.
No air could escape his lungs to shout. His stomach dropped, and his heart pounded, as the cold sea air rushed against his ears. Was this how he was going to die?
His downward momentum came to a sudden halt.
A single hand had grabbed him by the ankle. It was only one hand, but it held him in a grip more powerful than he had ever experienced. He was suspended there for a moment, dangling over the merciless sea.
Then he was thrown back onto the ship, somersaulting a good ten meters or so before landing on his back.
His bones creaked, but he was alive.
What kind of man could have such strength? He slowly sat up and looked toward his savior. A lone woman stood by the rail where he had gone overboard. She had one hand holding a red wide-brimmed hat tightly against her head, stopping the wind from stealing it away.
She possessed an almost alien beauty, with fine features and pale skin. Her wild golden hair fell far past her shoulders, and she wore a red and black dress of an extravagant design that Abram had never seen before.
As she gazed at him with eyes that looked like silver coins, he became aware that he was still holding his breath. He inhaled sharply, letting cold air fill his lungs.
The woman began to approach him, each step silent and graceful as a curious feline. She stopped when she was almost standing above him.
"Are you alright?" She said, revealing pearly white teeth as she spoke. Her voice was soft, but somehow carried above the roar of the waves.
"I-I um… yeah I-I'm fine." Abram managed to stutter out.
Nearby, the crew was finally hoisting Captain Morgan out of the water. He was clutching a small lock-box in his arms as he was pulled onto the deck.
"Welcome back, captain." Said Valos. Morgan grunted in response, then handed his boatswain the lock-box.
"What is your name?" The woman asked. Abram's addled mind struggled to process the question at first.
"Oh! Uh… Abram, Ma'am." He finally got out. The woman smiled at him, and his heart rate doubled.
"Well, Abram, I hope we chat again soon." She turned and walked over to the Captain. The crew made way for her as she approached him. Abram watched her the whole way; his face was on fire as he swallowed down a lump in his throat.
The woman took Morgan by the hand and led him toward his cabin. Water dripped from his drenched clothing and splattered against the deck as they went.
"Glad to see you in one piece." Said Caltry, appearing beside him. Abram's eyes were still glued to the woman as his crewmate helped him to his feet.
"Who is that?" He asked. Caltry followed his line of sight, and his face stiffened.
"You don't want to mess with that one, lad."
"What? What are you saying?"
"That's Madam Dollie. She stays in his quarters and never leaves. She's been with him since before I joined the crew."
"So is she… His mistress or something?"
"Dunno, but I know she's dangerous. More than the captain. Hell, I'd rather face the leviathan than her." Abram needed his eyebrows together.
"Alright, I understand." He said. He didn't understand at all, though. If Madam Dollie wanted him to talk to her, how could he refuse?
He had already forgotten about the inhuman strength she portrayed when she saved his life and tossed him back onto the deck effortlessly. The only vestiges of the act were Abram's throbbing ankle, which was pushed to the back of his mind.
After all, how could a woman so beautiful possibly be dangerous?