The Good Captain was sitting in the large dinning room reading another entry on the large leather bound ledger with the golden gilded border. He’d let fate chose the entry he was reading rather than reading the items as they appeared in the ledger and the entry fate had chosen for him was titled Sunset On The Golden Age.
From the title alone he knew several things. Firstly that the words Golden Age referred to the Golden Age of Piracy, a period in the seventeenth and eighteenth century where piracy was at it strongest. It was a time when pirates ruled the seas but like all good times they had to come to an end and that end was referenced by the first word, Sunset.
Something else the Good Captain knew, and he didn’t need a ledger to tell him so, was that his father, the man his mother had told his so little about as he grew up, lived through a good portion of the Golden Age of Piracy. His mother may not have told him such information when he was growing up and wondering where his father was and where he fitted into the world but he also didn’t need the ledger to tell him that the story he was reading was not only the truth but a first hand account.
He read the first paragraph a second time.
“The shadows as I look down into the nothingness that is this spire appear to me sublime. I know that sounds unfathomable but should you be where I am you too would understand to what I refer. There are forces down there which radiate an awe inspiring luminescence. At first I do not know why they are there. At first to me they appear daunting, even scary, but quickly my mind tells me otherwise. It is then I realise those inspiring luminescent forces are guiding me, guiding me down a hidden path, a path travelled by only a few selected pirates before me.
Suddenly I know that the guided path will take me to another Golden Age.”
The Good Captain suddenly knew not only was he reading his father’s own account of the sun setting on the golden age of piracy but the fact he had finally meet the man before he set sail on his last journey meant there had to be a second golden age, at least for his father. He kept reading…
I was suddenly split from the daylight I had been bathed in only minutes before. What it was that sundered me from that daylight remained unseen by my own eyes. However the sound was like the rage of ten thousand cyclonic storms all crashing over my ship at the same time.
The light may have dwindled but I could still make out the massive rock form plateaus for which I was betwixt. Despite not being able to make out every detail of those plateaus I was still able to recognise that such plateaus had never existed upon the Earth, that I knew of.
As I ink these thoughts down onto this parchment I somehow know that these plateaus that surround me were created under the heat of five hundred burning suns. Massive mountains razed from their heights as the red and ochre bloods of the land flowed downward and created the highlands surrounding me. How I know this I can not begin to be telling.
The guided path in which my ship appears to be sailing is still dark, unlit even by the moonlight which I would normally have expected to be in the night sky. Just as my mind knows exactly how the plateaus were created it also knows that if I am to complete this voyage I must allow the ship to sail the path ahead with out interference.
As my ship sails forth along the guided path I know that behind me the sun shall be setting forever, never to rise again over what I once knew and lived. I also know that what lays before me, in the coming darkness may be a fight to the bitter end, just as this last fight was, because indeed if one sun sets another one must surely dawn, as it has for aeons before I arrived at this point. It is what the new sun rises on that remains at this point unanswered.
The legends of the Golden Age that was shall forever be passed on, whether it be in memory of those left behind, or in actual account by those like me who found the guided path. The sun may have set on out Golden Age, the final chapter may be written but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is time to turn another page. A new page!
The premonitions are strong, I may not be able to see the path in which my ship is sailing yet I see what is ahead. I see the ocean meeting the sand, a tenebrous place almost cosmic in its appearance where a pirate may embrace the giant anatine like beast and forsake all that he may know. But is that just my mind playing tricks? It is hard for me to tell.
When the Good Captain got to the end if the page he blinked, blinked again, shook his head slightly as if clearing some invisible fog, then relaxed back in his high back seat and reached for his tankard of rum. This time when he grasped the vessel there was no shaking, simply a feeling of calm.
Although the ledger appeared to end abruptly and without finality the Good Captain suddenly knew two things. Firstly, his father not only saw the sun setting on the Golden Age of Piracy but he witnessed the dawning of a new age. And secondly that the new age had to be as good as it’s predecessor or the old man would not have sailed back into his life when he did.
It left only one question. Where had the old man sailed on his last journey?
Previous Pirate story here.