Today I have the very first ever written draft from the original...Jay Hill and the Red Wind. This was first written in a notebook, which I still have floating around in my closet.
Enjoy!
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Wind. A lot of it. It blew against the ship in powerful gusts. With every blow, a new wave rose in the air and clashed with another one.
Torrents of rain fell in the sea, on the deck, and against the windows.
The ship, a three-sailed schooner with a dark brown hull, rode the waves with ease, cresting the tops of large waves, sliding down with agility. Her sails were down, and even now she sped along with the ever moving sea.
Her captain stood at the wheel, calmly staring off into the dark sky as if it was a calm afternoon on a lake, instead of a rough storm in the middle of the Atlantic. The weather, in spite of the storm, was warm; simply a sudden summer storm in July.
In spite of the rough weather and the darkness of night, quite a number of the ships crew were on deck, not at all phased by the storm. Some were working, checking ropes and riggings; others were simply enjoying the cooler weather of a rainy night.
In the heart of the ship, the rest of the crew lay in hammocks, swaying back and forth in motion with the boat. Some were asleep, but a few were talking in the rolling dark.
A large wave rolled under the ship, and with a groan, she rode it down to another. She veered to the left, until her rail was skimming the water. She corrected herself, and flew over waves towards another ship also riding out the storm.
The new ship was struggling, her crew panicked. They ran around like bugs in a rock, unsure how to wear out the storm. It was a French passenger ship, with a hold full of fine silk and linen, and in the cabins lay sick and terrified French nobles, who'd been expecting a pleasure cruise, not a game with death.
The smaller schooner tore though the waves, rushing with eagerness towards the French ship. Her captain stared ahead with a sly smile on his face, and then turned towards his first mate, who was standing beside him. "Justin, ready the crew. We're about to catch up.
"You see them?" Justin squinted up into the dark night.
"Aye. We're close."
Justin said no more, but ran into the sleeping quarters. He ordered everyone out on the deck, and then he set out to get those outside ready. In minutes, the entire crew was on deck, silently awaiting more orders.
The French ship was unsuspecting. It rocked with the calming waves as the storm moved past. The clouds blew away and revealed the moon, and the dark brown ship that was now beside the other.
With a cry, the French realized that they weren't alone on that stretch of sea. They raced for weapons, but were too late; the crew of the smaller ship were already jumping over onto the other boat.
The French readied their weapons, but waited. If they were being attacked by pirates, it was strange pirates. There was no gunfire, no screams, and no cannon shots. Although armed, those on deck were standing quietly, as if waiting for something. Unsure what to do, the French hesitated.
The captain of the dark ship walked calmly from one ship to the other, bowed, and said in a clear voice, "We wish to speak to your captain."
The quiet authority in his voice urged the French sailors to leap to call their captain. He sauntered out of his cabin, lazily looked the other up and down, and said, while examining his rich belt, "Who are you and what do you want?"
"I am here for news. That is all."
There was a stark contrast between the two captains. The Frenchman finely dressed, in his forties, used to be in command, and rudely roused from his game of cards. The stranger on his ship was barely over twenty, and was dressed simply, but there was more than outer appearances suggested. His bright sea blue eyes blazed defiance, and his voice was sharp and stern.
The two stared levelly at each other, until the Frenchman said, "What news are you looking for?"
"I'm looking for a ship. A light colored ship, with light sails. A pirate ship."
"The Captain Martin's ship?" The Frenchman stopped pretending to be interested in his belt. "Why are you looking for him? He destroys every ship he meets!"
"He destroy's every ship he catches, you mean," was the quiet reply. "His ship, the High Dragon, is slow, but powerful. If he can catch a ship, it's a goner. But he can't chase - or run."
"You think you can beat the man that's responsible for so many deaths in these waters?" laughed the Frenchman. "You are a bold one."
"Have you seen or heard of him?" It was spoken quietly, not at all in anger.
"No I have not." The answer was indifferent. "I'm glad that I have not, and even though you are not French, I hope you will not fall to the horrible death all manner of men have met by Captain Martin." He turned to look at the young man's ship and scrutinized it closely. "You have no flag," he commented. "Who do you sail under?"
"No one," the man said, his eyes calm. "Smooth sailing, my captain." He bowed with grace, and walked away. As he strode towards his ship, he called out, "Let's go, my seamen! We sail North!" He leaped over the railings onto his own ship and ran to the wheel. Almost instantly, the dark brown ship turned and was gone in darkness. Thunder roared, and the sky clouded again.
The Frenchman stood for a while in surprise before he ordered his men to continue on course, and walked into his cabin. His wife and two daughters looked up from their game as he closed the door.
"What was that about?" his wife asked.
"Some ship drew next to ours and someone jumped over and asked if we'd seen Captain Martin," he replied.
"But the Captain is a dreaded pirate!" was the shocked reply.
"That's what makes it stranger." He sat down and looked at the game. "Can I jump back in?"
Sometime later, his eldest daughter asked, "What did the ship look like?"
"You mean the ship that was here a little bit ago?"
"Yes."
"Let's see. It was a dark brown schooner. Three masts, but I couldn't see the color of the sails because they were down."
"Hmm," she looked thoughtful. "What did the captain look like?"
"Do you think you know who these strangers are?"
"Yes I do. I listen to all the ship hands at the docks, you know. Was the captain old or young?"
"He was a very young man. Barely over twenty, I would think."
"A dark ship, sails down, young captain," she ticked the facts off on her fingers. "What was the flag?"
"There was no flag."
"So, the stories are true!" She looked surprised. "I hear folks down at the shipyards talk about a pirate hunter on a dark brown ship."
"Really? What do they say about this pirate hunter?"
"That's he's the master of the sea, and is going to hunt down and kill every pirate in his waters."
"That sounds like a bed time story, Helen." Her father laughed.
"That's why I didn't believe it until now. He has no glad because he's under no one. He was hunting Captain Martin because he's a pirate hunter. He sails a dark brown schooner that flies like the wind even when her sails are not up. The captain is young and bold. I'm sure that it's true. And he was right on our ship!" Her eyes were alight with excitement, and her mouth was in a wide smile.
Her father, however, wasn't to ecstatic. "That still sounds like a tall tale, my dear. But if it's a true story, we've passed out of it. I believe it's your turn."
Helen nodded and turned back to the cards. She'd never see the ship again, so why get excited? Plus, she was winning the game.
Cool, huh??? Anyways, hope you enjoyed that. :)
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