Mishaps Along The Way

For Sikh History Month.

A Tale by Mark Craig set in Year 32 of the Questing Age.

“Do not lose this book, pirate. If you do, then by stars above I shall turn you, your blade, and your rifle all into ferns!” 

This was the message so eloquently bequeathed upon me by the ever-mysterious Lady Tel, who I’d like to believe thinks well of me, trusting me with such a treasure of hers. Inside this thick leatherbound tome were thick pages of bamboo paper containing various drawings, diagrams, and mystic scrawls in languages long since lost to time. It was a work of arland origin, and the diagrams contained many symbols of religious significance, along with diagrams of traps and hidden tombs across a host of islands. The arland text was quite readable to the all-knowing Lady Tel, but to a layman like myself, it was altogether indecipherable. Yet, by pictures alone, she had the confidence that a cunning freebooter like myself could get by. Indeed, she showed me the page, and marked it with a long, thin reed and sent me on my way. 

My way, however, would wind up being rather tedious and altogether dreadful! Every foul thing that could possibly happen to me appeared all at once to descend upon me, and I lived in such misery for the entirety of the journey to the fabled isle of Mount Scarab. And, as I gaze out upon Mount Scarab’s sandy shores spread out before me like rolling waves of beige, I find myself in a chipper enough mood to laugh about it now. 

Indeed, my mishaps on the way here were numerous and trifling — as the first thing I did upon leaving the tent was stumble on a rock and nearly fumble the book. With a pirate’s grace I dextrously caught the book, and thank God, for if Lady Tel saw me drop it mere moments after sending me on my way, my ferny fate would descend upon me all too soon! Yet, on my way I continued, hauling the hefty tome to the docks and setting a few rickety planks down for my re-entry with the book tucked snug under my arm. Yet, as I stared at the 3 planks ahead of me, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety.

Perhaps it was such anxiety that caused me to overthink, or perhaps I am simply an overthinker by nature. What can be said regardless of this fact, however, is that my solution to my worries was not at all a rational one, and I found myself anxiously tying a rope around my waist and throwing it like a lasso around the railing of The Wedge. It was a shot I landed, but as I turned to make my way across the planks, I found myself winded and being pulled backwards as the ship bobbed with a rogue wave thrusting it higher than it were just moments ago. Such a movement had yanked me from my position upon my low-budget ramp!  Clutching the book for dear life against my chest, I sighed as I stared down at the water below me a few feet down. Looking up at the rope above me, I positioned my feet against the hull of my vessel and, with one hand safeguarding the book whilst the other hoisted me up, I eventually met with the railing itself, seemingly impassable without the use of both hands. 

It was then that I looked to my left — no one at the end of the docks. I peered to my right, noting that Lady Tel was nowhere to be seen. Feeling the coast was clear, I threw the book into the air attempting to toss it onto the deck. The covers flew open, and for a brief moment I could see the pages causing the noontime sun behind the book to flicker as the spinning book eclipsed the sun above me. It was then, to my dismay, that I realized the book was going to land in the water! Leaping quite literally into action, I jumped from the rail as outwardly as I could, straining my neck as I craned to see the freefalling book, thankfully catching it as I crashed into the dock back to where I had once stood. However, there would be no respite for me, and before I had the chance to get up, I felt the natural bobbing of the ship begin to pull me back once more. Gently tossing the book to safety in front of me, I grabbed a wooden support beam before I could be dragged completely off the docks once again. This time, however, I pulled my cutlass from its sheath and hastily cut the rope, scrambling my way to safety and freedom. Dusting off the book, I casually walked across the 3-board ramp and put the book on top of a particularly nice desk I had found abandoned at another port, seeing fit to use the piece of carpentry as an elegant piece of furnishing aboard my ship. 

Picking up the 3 boards that composed my ramp, I began to throw them onto the dock for another pirate’s use before yet another tragedy struck — upon throwing the final board, I hit a passerby square in the temple. He fell on his side with a clatter and thud, sending the 2 previous boards diving off the dock and into the salty sea before attempting to pick himself up. Upon seeing this, I rushed to my anchor and began to push and turn with all my might, my back twinging in pain at the craning of my neck earlier. Luckily, I narrowly escaped a confrontation as I quickly set sail and was gone with the wind, leaving the sorry fool to shake his fist uselessly from the edge of the pier. In the end, I was safe and sound, and well on my way to the isle of Mount Scarab. I sailed until dusk, and saw not another soul upon the waves, though I did see a bounty of sharks in the waters in which I had sailed. And, this time, I only had to rescue myself from accidentally sailing into a random outcropping once, yo-ho! Yet, after hearing an unusual sploosh from the water behind my ship, I knew I was not alone yet.

Indeed, peering behind my ship with lantern in hand, I could make out the faint silhouette of a shark fin tailing my vessel through the open waters. Realizing the likely size of such a beast, panic seized me then, and I did everything in my power to keep my breathing steady as I felt the walls of my ship closing in around me. Staring out into the sea to get another look, it seemed the creature noticed me, as it’s fin flicked sharply to the left, then to the right, making its way around the side of my vessel marked only by the ripple of the shark’s fin cutting waves that shimmered in the moonlight. Quickly, I grabbed my rifle and headed to the nearest cannon, manning it in case the creature became further provoked. Suddenly, it’s fin disappeared beneath the rolling waves, and my entire ship was ferociously knocked to the right, threatening to spill over and altogether capsize in the middle of the night. Thankfully she stayed afloat, and I quickly ran to the lower deck so as to assess the damage. The damage appeared to be minimal, as there was not yet a chunk missing from my ship thankfully, and I quickly made my way back to open skies, honing my rifle on every wave that passed me by.

For a moment, all seemed quiet. Had the vicious beast forgotten the Wedge so soon? In suspicious disbelief, I stared out into the open ocean for a while, finding myself beginning to set my rifle at ease. 

That’s when I saw it — from the east, the gargantuan, muckle-toothed maw of the beast that threatened to end my life and swallow me whole, hurtling towards my ship. I picked up my rifle and shot a fateful shot, causing the muckle-toothed shark to arc its body sharply in pain as I a slug connected directly with the animal’s eye, causing pulp and blood to spurt out into the water. Taken aback by the sudden shock of the ordeal, I fired another slug into the water, hearing little response. It was then that my ship was knocked yet again — however this time was different. I was blown off my feet from the impact and thrown into the waters from behind, my hands barely having time to reach out and grasp the dangling ladder before my ship carried on without me. Physically feeling the movement of the great beast in the waters, I clambored up the ladder with the last of my remaining strength and tumbled down the steps, rushing to the hull of the ship so as to patch the significant hole which the creature had imparted like a battle scar upon my vessel. Standing with water gushing in up to my shins, I patched hole after hole as the creature’s assault continued 2 or 3 times more, threatening to altogether crash through the wall and eat me alive if I was not careful. Indeed, such a position is potent and haunting material that will leave me anxious and fearful within the realm of my dreams. Yet, when the assault momentarily ceased, I took but a single bucket of water out with me and quickly began firing shots at the Muckletooth whenever I would see it. At some point, I had to steer out of the way of an incoming rock, something I barely managed to do although it set me a fair deal off course from the isle of Mount Scarab. That being said, I still wasn’t sure if I would be making it there in one piece, given my dire situation. 

Indeed, the creature did not veer from it’s destructive path, and planned to end my miserable existence as quickly as it could. Yet, blinded in one eye and with many rounds sunken into its skin, I prayed it’s downfall would come before mine. Alas, by the time I emptied both my rifles of munitions, I began to feel as though all hope was lost. Gripping a nearby cannon with both hands, I waited for a final make-or-break shot upon the beast. Soon enough, I saw her coming for me, it’s mouthful of teeth like an angry grin.

And so, I fired — directly into its open maw. Hitting the back of its soft palate with an explosive crash, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt alongside my victory as I watched the creature helplessly writhe and choke on a cannonball. Yet, it seemed to recover from even this, although this was something I expected, and found myself reloading the cannon before me at record pace. However, another crash rocked my vessel, and I could hear water spraying in the floor below as my ship was sinking further and further below the sealine. Grumbling as I had not yet finished reloading before the cannonball was lost to sea, I rushed downstairs with an empty barrel and, quickly tying a rope to it, I began to haul barrels of water from the deck below until it was only knee deep, before patching more holes both old and new as the shark continued it’s rampage. While I found myself running low on wood, I found myself able to patch holes much faster than the beast could make them, as its prominent nose meant it had to upturn its face in order to take a proper bite out of my ship. Bailing more water on the way up, I finally got back to reloading the cannon, anxiously watching the waters for any signs of life. 

Yet, once more, everything was still. The waves lapped against my vessel quietly, and the wind whistled quietly through the nooks and crannies of my ship as I listened for any signs of disturbance — a vital move indeed, as I heard the slapping of the Muckletooth’s fins against the water as it surged forward for another attack. Coming from the left, I sprinted across my sopping deck in waterlogged boots and manned the cannon — which was already loaded — ready to end the encounter. And, with a final shot and the blare of cannonfire, the beast was defeated — this time for good. With a roar that tapered off into a whimpering groan, the leviathan finally found its rest. Bailing the remaining water from my ship, I finally felt safe, like I was back at home.

A realization then dawned on me, which cut deep into my chest with anxiety. 

The book. Where was the book?! Had it fallen overboard during my war with the beast? Worse yet, did I perhaps ruin it, leaving it waterlogged and fallen on the floor? Searching frantically, I could not find it where I left it upon my desk, nor was it in my quarters which were now unusably soaked, nor was it found in the lower deck at all. Fearing the worst, and that my mission to the isle of Mount Scarab would not be a success, I sat upon the map table and stared in the direction of the black desk with a worried and tearful frown upon my face. 

It was then that I noticed the faint glint of something golden, wedged along the back of the desk near the legs — a corner of Lady Tel’s ancient book. Carefully rescuing it from behind the desk, I gave thanks to God and checked the pages for damages — clean. A playful smile crossed my face as I recalled a memory of Balpreet Singh, that mighty Sikh who taught me my way of life, and how he would pay such reverence and respect to Guru Granth Sahib, the holy scripture of our people. Were he to only see me now, running myself ragged to protect a book, perhaps he would be proud — or perhaps he would know exactly how much further I need to go in order to become the man I wish to be. 

Truly, as I now write this upon the shores of the isle of Mount Scarab, it must be said with a pure heart that I miss that man.

To be continued…