Luna's Hope - The High Seas of Equestria

by Midnight Sprint

Chapter 3: Remembering

The two survivor ponies Captain Silver Stern and his crew had located upon the island had been taken into the heart of the Luna’s Hope. Offering their services as cooks in temporary compensation for their stay on board the ship, the farmer ponies were settling into a small living quarter connected to the galley. The Captain and his first officers were meeting in private to discuss which course of action to take, in light of the circumstances. A salty wind picked up along the sails in the day following the unintended rescue mission, while Skysail the Pegasus hovered atop the central mast.

A keen eye on the weather approaching, the swift and nimble flyer kept the crew well informed of any such weather patterns and systems that might threaten the Hope. The Hope herself was listing across the depths at a snail’s pace, keeping a near dead drift, while the minor wind nudged her along. Yanking rope into various knots at the aft of the Luna’s Hope, the newest sailor tugged firmly. Skysail darted her gaze downwards to the sailor as a small splashing sound was heard.

“Everything alright down there, Devil Seam?” The Pegasus called downward. The sailor stared upward, replying with a questioning expression upon his face. Skysail shrugged, and continued watching the waves around their vessel. Devil Seam looked down into the water, glancing around, and eying the waves curiously. His eyes settled upon the horizon where the dark clouds continued to gather. While it was true that her speed had not increased terribly in the couple days since the rescue of the two merchant ponies, the crew was more than a little unsettled by the fact that the restless weather system seemed to be stalking them from just far enough on the sea as to press intimidation upon their minds.

Devil Seam had ended his rounds for securing the sails and their primary lines, and began trotting down the main passage into the ship’s bowels. While the Luna’s Hope was not nearly so large as an Equestrian Frigate or warship, the hope was surprisingly spacious. The obviously limited space on the ship’s open air decks served to give the impression of less room than truly existed. Devil Seam crossed past a main hold, and dropped his hindquarters upon a short, wide crate. He leaned back and stared out a window nearby.

Adjacent to the room, rested the galley. Three voices conversed curiously with newfound camaraderie. The dark brown, black haired unicorn known as Drop Shot was laughing cheerfully, while discussing foodstuffs with Ginger Gold and Navel Orchard. Both of the earth pony survivors were now much healthier in appearance. Their coats were far brighter, and their eyes rested properly, instead of sunken and dulled. “Let me tell ya, friends, it’s bad enough most of these ponies couldn’t cook a good potato stew to save their lives!” Drop Shot said, followed by a bout of all three laughing, while he adjusted his eye patch in the ruckus.

“It’s good to see you lot up and about. When the Captain and we all caught wind of a wreck, we weren’t sure what we’d end up finding.” Drop Shot spoke, his grizzled voice sounding with both seriousness, as well as genuine concern. The old horse was a gruff and stout sailor, but he took his concept of fellowship very seriously.

“To be honest,” Ginger Gold spoke, her accent protruding more prominently now. “We weren’t sure we’d ever see another pony again. We were all lucky to have survived the attack.” Navel Orchard placed a hoof upon his wife’s shoulder. “Once we had lost all the other survivors, we had given up hope. By that point, we didn’t even know how many moons had passed. We were making the best guess we could, but we weren’t expecting much.” The look of exhaust passed briefly over both the stallion and the mare’s eyes, while Drop Shot sat silently listening to their tale.

“Tell me,” Drop Shot whispered earnestly. “I know it’s hard, but take it from an old, seasoned sea-hound like meself. It’s best to talk these things out, and let me tell ya, I can relate.” The two survivors glanced up. They knew these ponies were all experienced sailors, but surely they hadn’t all been through that much Hell? Clearly understanding their mild apprehension, Drop Shot continued tentatively. He addressed the source of mystery from his fellow crew. One he, somewhat hypocritically, kept to himself.

“Listen, friends. Ya don’t think I got this from a fork, do ya?” He said with a mild grin, trying to add just enough humor as to not be inappropriate. The two looked to one another, and searched quietly in each other’s eyes for a decision. Drop Shot cleared his throat gently. “Never you mind. You don’t have to tell me nothin’ if ya don’t feel like it.” The older stallion stood, and started organizing some utensils in his cupboards.

“No, wait.” Navel Orchard spoke, with intent. “You’re right. And you have the right to know. You and your crew saved our lives.” Drop Shot slowly stopped his organizing and turned, questioning if Navel and Ginger were truly alright with recalling their nightmarish ordeal. Nodding, Ginger and Navel alternated detailing the situation more clearly than they had when explaining to the Captain upon their discovery on the island.

“We were sailing to a colony on an island.” Ginger began. “They needed fruit trees.”
Navel then picked up, “We ran orchards back in Ponyville on the mainland. We had made an arrangement with the governess of the little village out there to bring some trees, a lot of seeds, and some equipment.”
“But we obviously didn’t get that far.” Ginger continued. “We were just coming through the channels where you found our debris washed up. The weather was awful. I don’t think I’ve seen weather that vicious or persistent before.”
Navel, again, spoke. “Another ship was making its way through the storm. It was like the weather wasn’t even touching their ship.”

Drop Shot’s eye looked down, and scoured around the room in thought. The two continued their tale of pirate ponies. After their merchant vessel was peppered by cannon fire, the attacking raiders were so deft and light on their hooves, that they barely were able to recall any of their appearances. Some of the pirates were so quick it was as though they were jumping from starboard to port as though nothing sat in between.

“Is there anything you can remember about the attack? Anyone at all that stood out?” Drop Shot asked nervously. He knew not to pry too far this soon after such an ordeal upon hearts not accustomed to such stress and chaos. Ginger looked down, and wrapped her neck around Navel’s shoulder. He looked Drop Shot straight eye-to-eye. “Yes, sir.” Navel spoke with his teeth gritted. “Their captain. His body was a charcoal grey, with a dull red mane that had braids in it in a couple places. He had a three pointed hat-“
“Tricorne.” Drop Shot, corrected instinctively, before apologizing quietly.
“Uh… yeah. He had a tricorne hat, and a brick red captain’s coat. His mark was… what was it?”
Ginger Gold interrupted her husband’s recounting to finish the detail. “A mast. His cutie mark was a ship’s mast. The sun worn mast of a great ship.”

“Do you recall the colors they were flying? Did they have a standard? A flag?” Drop Shot inquired, dead seriously. Ginger Gold and Navel Orchard once more looked to one another, and meeting Drop Shot’s eye again, quite seriously replied, “Yes.” Ginger said. “The flag was black. It had a yellow pony skull surrounded by a grey horseshoe.” Drop Shot stood up, and faltered in his footing. He darted to the window, staring into the horizon, watching the grey skies. He muttered to himself, “Windigo’s Pride.” Turning to the farm ponies, he spoke. “We need to see the Captain. NOW.”