The Admiral

James Morgan

Looking around at the crew I can see they’re disheartened. We’ve been sailing north in search of our folly and finding nothing but icebergs. The men have all grabbed their coats and gloves, but it’s not helping much, their hands trembling as their grip their rifles, loaded at the ready.

We’ve been searching for a vessel that was said to have rammed a ship belonging to the British Navy, a serious offense. No word as to if they were pirates as they simply rammed the vessel and left to avoid conflict and capture.

Midshipman Smith approaches me blowing warm air into his freezing hands.

“Do you really think they went this far?” he asks quietly.

I don’t have an answer for him that won’t get me into trouble and just raise my brows. He seems to understand my reluctance to speak.

“Right. I guess I’d better go find a warmer coat,” he grumbles before leaving to search for one. As I follow him with my eyes I spot Adam the young cabin boy hugging his coat, his teeth chattering. I shake my head; this isn’t worth it.

I look to the Captain up on the quarterdeck. He seems determined to freeze half the crew on this ship in search of the mystery ramming vessel.

Looking out at the giant mountains of floating ice in the distance I couldn’t imagine such a sight ever existed, the Northern Lights adding an eerie, green glow to our hunt.

Seeing places like this is why I joined The Hunter’s Fleet. Sure, there was always the British Royal Navy, but there are so many rules to follow, and hoops to jump through. Plus, it was a place where anyone with money could buy a commanding position. Money my family simply did not have so I got here the hard way, like most of the crew here; hard fucking work. I was gifted with a sword, and a better shot at that. I’m honored to be amongst men and women who have earned their place through hard work and experience.

There were times I regretted the rockier, tougher path. Now, I find myself a Master of Arms in the legendary International Pirate Hunters Fleet. It was an organization that seemingly came out of myth and legend. No one is sure exactly when it was established, how, or why; the whole thing is shrouded in secrecy and most of the world doesn’t even know we exist.

One story said it was started by an ancient King betrayed by his brother who stole from him. What he stole? No one knows. He had grown obsessed over the years with the idea of hunting his brother down and amassing men from all around the world to follow him, promising fortune and notoriety.

Another story tells of two pirates who started as friends and that became enemies for whatever reason. One sought redemption and aid from the leaders of the civilized world to gain enough ships and money in order to cleanse the ocean of all bandits.

There are many of these stories, each one different, but somehow at the core, it was always two men opposing one another. An origin story lost and warped by time.

One thing that ties all these stories is The Admiral; a man chosen by the fleet itself to lead them in their quest to keep the oceans safe for travelers, commercial vessels, fishermen, or whoever chooses to venture the seas.

I’ve never met The Admiral, very few have and I’m yet to meet someone who can attest to his existence. I’ve only been on The Orion for a year and the minimum time of service to meet him is said to be ten years as Captain or a promotion to Commodore. There are three Commodores each in charge of three ships, so nine Captains in all.

I look up at the Captain and wonder how he ever got to this post. Maybe it was a clerical error?

Who knows, maybe one day I could be a Captain. I look around at our situation and doubt I’ll survive the night seeing as how poorly we’re doing right now in the middle of nowhere. If it were my choice we’d never have gone this far.

As we navigate through the icebergs. A whistle breaks the silence, and all eyes look up to the crow’s nest where an outstretched arm points to starboard.

There’s nothing out there but a cloud of thick fog.

Thick fog in this climate? It doesn’t make any sense.

The whistle blows again, three times, indicating a ship. There’s shouting and commotion as seemingly out of the thick fog a ship comes flying at full speed with the intention of ramming us.

I managed to see the bow of the ship; it was fitted with a naval ram in the shape of a dragon-like sea creature. It’s the ship we’ve been looking for, but it seems it’s found us first.

The Orion is pierced right in the center of the hull, and we’re dragged along the water. Men are thrown, screaming, some manage to get a shot off, and most scramble to hold onto something.

We quickly come to a full stop and just as I’m about to give the order to fire when I notice clanking noises ring throughout our ship, like the cogs of a large machine.

A torrent of flame emerges from the belly of our ship clearly propelled by some sort of oil or gas coming from the dragon’s mouth.

The ship is quickly consumed by fire, and everyone scrambles to get away.

I look for the Captain who’s nowhere to be found. It’s no longer a hunt, it’s every man for himself.

I help the crew who try to lower some of the longboats, but the mechanism is frozen shut. I take my blade and cut the ropes. It drops into the icy water below, landing on some crew who have already jumped into the water.

“Fuck.” I feel the ship moving and look to see the naval jammer move away; opening our hull to fill rapidly with seawater.

I’ve never seen anything like it; the Dragon’s mouth drips with flames. Confirming my suspicions, it’s some sort of flame cannon. My eyes dart to the deck of the ship and I catch the smug face of a man who looks mighty proud of his achievement. He seems to laugh as he points to the men and women struggling to stay afloat in the icy water. I know this man.

It’s been a lifetime since I’ve laid eyes on him, but it would be an absolute pleasure to put a bullet between his eyes.

Grabbing the rifle off my back I line him up in my sights. He sees me aiming at him, and his eyes widen for a moment. As I fire there’s an explosion and I don’t see if I hit him.

The world turns upside down, and when my body hits the water, my breath is squeezed out of my lungs. Dealing with this was part of the training. I hold my breath and look around. I have to work fast before I freeze and lose all function.

The bubbles I let out show me the way up and I gasp for air as my head breaks the surface of the water.

“Morgan!” Smith calls from somewhere behind me.

I watch in shock as The Orion, the newest ship of The Hunters Fleet sinks in a blazing inferno.

My body is pulled out of the ice-cold water and into a long boat, and as I lift my head, I see all the chattering, blue faces before me. I’m relieved to see young Adam made it, but we’re all dripping wet and surrounded by ice.

We’ve survived the Dragon, now as we watch it sail away, how long can we possibly survive the elements?