Hurricane Isle

Oh what a tale I have to tell you. My name is Captain Solly and I've sailed the seas for, oh, about twenty-five years. But never in my life have I seen anyplace like Hurricane Isle. Hurricane Isle was a legend among us Sailors. It was supposed to have plenty of golden dollars buried in its soil. There is not a sailor I know who has not talked of setting out for it.

It all began when I set foot on Paragon Island, the next island over from Hurricane Isle. I landed there about midday with my crew of twenty to stock up on supplies before we set out again for the fabled Isle. The port was pretty big and there seemed to be plenty of ships. While we were there, I noticed a pub that was run by the natives. Aye, a keg of ale would hit the spot right now, I thought to myself, so I went in. Sitting among the tables were about fifty or so sailors that look the worse for wear. Many had bloodied noses, and several looked to have a broken bone or two. There was not a sailor in the place whose clothes were not torn. They were in pretty sorry shape, to say the least. Thinking nothing of it, I went up to the bar to place me order. "What brings you to this island?" the barkeeper asked. The room grew deathly silent. "Why, I'm heading out to Hurricane Isle" I told him.

The room was suddenly full of shouting men. "You're Crazy!" "You and your crew will be on the bottom of the sea!" "Who's ye next of kin?"

Wide-eyed, I stared at them. "Here, let me show you somethin', Sonny," a small little old man spoke out. Staring cautiously at the crowd, we left the barroom. I followed the old man up a hill and to the very top of a cliff.

"Here," he said, "Look out towards Hurricane Isle, and you may think twice about going there."

I looked. The sky had been cloudy before hand, but now, looking out towards Hurricane Isle, strong winds began to blow. I could see the island in the distance. It had one giant stone peak that rose slightly off center. It was almost entirely carpeted in trees. The trees were whipping back and forth. Waves began to build and started crashing into the shore of Paragon Island below.

The winds blew, the cocks' crew, and sailors were scared.

The old man quickly grabbed my hand and spun us around until our backs were facing the coming hurricane. The winds suddenly died down, the waves stopped crashing, and everything grew silent again.

We kept our backs to the isle and went back down to the pub. At that time, I didn't really connect the island to the winds. I did start to have a few second thoughts though. Still we loaded our ship with the supplies we had bought, and set out towards Hurricane Isle.

Our ship slowly sailed around the edge of Paragon Island and I got my first good look at Hurricane Isle. The fear of the island had set into my crew, so no one else dared a look. When the sun finally set on this tropical sea, we put down anchor. Hurricane Isle was just in view.

As the crew settled in their bunks below, I stayed on deck. Hurricane Isle looked enchanting. I could feel something drawing me towards it. There were no signs of the Hurricane winds, which the old man had shown me. I spent about an hour up on deck, and then headed for bed myself.

When the sun rose the next morning, I gave the order to raise anchor. The breeze was light and playful as a kitten, but that soon changed.

A strong gust blew us towards Hurricane Isle suddenly. The sea began to toss and turn. The winds grew ominous. All of the deck hands scramble to lower the sails. Rain began pounding on the deck.

The winds blew, the cocks' crew, and sailors were scared.

The rain felt more like hail than a playful shower. Like speeding bullets they fell on you so hard that they stung.

In order to stay on deck, I tied my self to the mast. That ended up saving my life. Half of my crew was washed overboard when a giant wave came crashing down on us.

The next thing I remember is a bright light shining in my eyes. As I slowly opened them, I realized I was laying on a beach and the bright light was the midday sun. We had been washed back to Paragon Island. There were about ten sailors lying on the beach around me. All of them seemed to be breathing so I slowly stood up. I tried to ignore the stabbing pains coming from my ribs, but I fell down twice despite my efforts.

I could see my battered ship beached nearby. I slowly hobbled towards its great edifice. When I reached the side, I noticed there was a rope ladder of some sort that hung down to the sand. At the top was the old man who had first shown the island. "Do you get it now?" he asked. He was angry. "When anyone looks at the island, the Hurricane winds begin to blow! You were stupid not to obey the warning!" "But," I said, "Whenever, I look at the island, it's just fine. We just had some bad luck with a storm, that's all. We'll head back out." I still didn't get it.

My crew did not want to go out on that fated sea again. Only by the threat of marooning them, did I get my ten crewmembers back. I even managed to pick a few off passing vessels to make up for those who hadn't tied down the last time.

When we again came to confront the island, the same thing happened

The winds blew, the cocks' crew, and sailors were scared.

Waves blasted my ship, until the largest wave of them all came crashing down upon us. We sank, and that was the end of my crew and me. Or was it? For now whenever anyone looks in the direction of Hurricane Isle, not only to the winds blow, cocks crow, and the sailors grow scared, the onlooker sees a ghost white ship constantly battling against the torrential power of an enchanted Isle.