At last, the scummiest vessel on water
Oh how I wish I was at home right now
It wasn't a home worth calling home, but it was our one and only shelter for now
Damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas for far out land
End no lives, shed no tears
Now we're all broken from our toils and times
The last of Old World's privateers
‘Where’d you hear that song from, lad?’
A young colt, with fiery yellow eyes and a mahogany coat, looked up from his sitting place. Facing him was a rough-looking older stallion with a full beard of hair that seemed forever unshaven and a bright red jacket hanging unbuttoned over his back.
‘My father sang it to me when I was younger,’ the colt replied. ‘He’d always talk about the seas, Captain. Told me all sorts of tales about far off lands’—The colt sniffed—’but I always knew they weren’t true. All there is out here is water.’
The Captain gave the boy a firm slap on the back and laughed. ‘There’s some truth to that, Kid. I’m sure you’ll get used to the high seas in due time.’
The Kid gave him a sheepish smile, then closed his eyes and whispered the song’s verse once more. The Captain grinned and left him to his song, taking more interest in the vessel that he and his crew took to calling home—the SS Boone. The ship’s caretaker walked up to the bow of the ship, looked behind him, and settled into his surroundings.
The ship was a simple wooden ship, with floorboards creaking and softening at a mere touch, a steering wheel littered with cracked edges and a swaying, splintered mast in the centre. What he saw, others did not see: pure beauty.
‘Ah... remember when I built your mast, Boone?’ the Captain said, smiling. ‘Bet you’re not used to seeing twelve new faces climbing aboard.’ Scattered abovedeck, several ponies—not one of them looking the least bit seaworthy—all went about their business. ‘A makeshift crew no doubt, but we’ll make it to new land, Boone. We’ll make it.’
‘Hey, Captain,’ a soft voice said from behind him. The Captain turned around and saw the Singer, a young filly with deep hazel eyes, watching him intently. She did not say anything more.
‘Eh, hello?’ the Captain replied. ‘Is there something I can do for you, lassie?’
‘Are we going back to the mainland anytime soon?’ the Singer said, tilting her head. ‘I think after a day on the sea, the Plague might have disappeared.’
The Captain bit his lip. ‘Well, um, not exactly,’ he stammered. ‘The Plague destroyed everything. It’d be far too dangerous to go back and try and live where we used to, like we used to.’
‘So what’s the plan, then?’ a new voice, on the Captain’s right, questioned bitterly. The voice was weak and slow, and its owner covered with wrinkles and trembling slightly. ‘I’m sick of calling everyone these “titles” instead of their real names.’
‘Hold on, hold on,’ the Captain said. ‘It makes things easier for the crew to identify themselves. We already went through this, Senior, we need to find lan—’
‘To hell we need to find land,’ the Senior exclaimed, raising his voice. ‘We’re not gonna find any. Haven’t you listened to our mayor? There’s nothing out in these waters.’
‘The mayor is dead, Senior.’
‘We’re doomed... doomed.’ The Senior looked down for a moment and sniffled. As though ashamed of this sign of weakness, he picked himself up, grunted and left the bow of the ship. The Captain and the Singer stared back in confusion.
‘You and the Kid have got to be at least ten times younger than that old coot,’ the Captain remarked, ‘but at least you’ve got more sense. If we’re the only ones who survived that calamity, then I think the future is in good hands.’
‘Why’d you call us the Crew, Captain?’
‘Well, a crew is sort of like a family. I know we aren’t a family right now, especially with cold hearts like that old pony over there’—The Captain scoffed—’but I’m sure we’ll all warm up to each other soon. We have to if we’ll stay here for long.’
‘And how long is that, sir?’
The Captain opened his mouth in response, but only air passed through. He pondered for a moment, then said plainly: ‘I’m not sure, lassie. But we’ll get somewhere, and when we do, everything will be alright.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be a fun adventure, Captain.’
‘Aye.’ The Captain scanned the ship and found two ponies, a mare and a stallion, speaking to each other as the stallion laid his hoof around her. ‘Those are your parents, right?’
The Singer nodded.
‘They might be willing to hit the hay soon,’ the Captain said, looking out to the horizon; the darkened sun was almost out of sight. ‘Sunset’s nearly finished. Oh, and if anyone calls your parents Husband or Wife, don’t worry too much.’
‘I thought the titles came from their duties, Captain.’
‘Eh, I suppose they’re an exception. I’m sure something better will stick later.’
The Singer smiled, waved a quick goodbye and dashed away from the Captain. She ran along to her parents, who noticed her coming and opened a leg each for a hug.
The Captain sighed. ‘You’re all that I’ve got left, Boone. Lacey... Lacey didn’t make it.’
The plank of wood underneath the Captain creaked under his weight.
‘You’re all that I’ve got left.’ The Captain sat down in front of the cracked wheel and tilted his head down. His teeth started biting through the air next to the coat, and within a few moments, found purchase on a small nib extruding from one of his pockets. He yanked out a curved wooden pipe that now rested firmly in his mouth, and with one of his idle hooves, fumbled out a golden lighter from another pocket. With his hoof holding on tight, he flicked the lighter’s cap open, revealing a flame that soon met its mark at the opening of the pipe.
Finished with his work, the Captain set down his lighter, relaxed his muscles and inhaled deeply.
'Smoking a pipe, Captain?' the Kid said, making his way to the bow. 'That's not too good for you, is it?'
'Nah, not terribly so,' the Captain replied. 'But, unless we reach land that grows tobacco, this is the last opportunity I have to taste it. The world could potentially never see it again.'
'Huh.' The Kid sat down next to the Captain and had a puff of smoke drift off into his face. He gave a slight cough. 'I never really thought of it that way. Same goes for a lot of things, really.'
'Maybe there will be civilization wherever we land.' The Captain spoke with a slight tremor in his voice. The Kid frowned.
'Do you really think we'll succeed in settling somewhere?'
The Captain sighed. 'I don't know, lad. We can't go back, and we don't know what's out there, but it's the only chance we've got. Maybe we can start calling each other by our real names once—if we get there.'
'I'm glad you aren't just telling me what I want to hear because I'm young,' the Kid said, smiling. 'My dad was the same way. Told me he wanted to raise me to be an honest stallion.'
'He sounds like a smart pony.' The Captain took another puff of his pipe. The smoke drifted to the Kid, but he did not cough. 'Well, on my side, I'm glad you aren't going into some comatose state for all that happened. You know that everyone's dealing with it and acting with respect—except for that couple and their daughter. Lucky family, that one is.'
'Yeah. Saw the Chef crying when he was making the stew this afternoon.'
The Captain chuckled. 'It's horrible to think that that's funny, but all I can think about is him crying into my stew. Losing those you love is saddening, but we're all on the same boat. Heh. Same boat.' The Captain sat silent for a minute, moving only to take another drag of the tobacco. 'Say, would you mind singing me another verse of that song your father made, if there are more?'
The Kid nodded.
The ship was jostled and thrown about
Oh how I wish I was at home right now
The captain cried out to the ocean, begging for his pride and joy to be spared
Damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas for far out land
End no lives, shed no tears
Now we're all broken from our toils and times
The last of Old World's privateers
The Captain smiled. 'I never really spent much time in the settlements back home. Would've loved to meet your father.'
The two sat in silence. The pipe soon had nothing more to burn but the smouldering ashes that sprinkled down to the floor like scorched snow, and the Captain looked down at it, frowning. He replaced it into his jacket pocket.
'And thus ends the era of tobacco in this world. A shame, really. Alas, it means I should go check on the rest of the ponies here instead of watching some of this sunset with ol' Boone.'
'I’d be fine with watching the sunset alone,' the Kid replied, smiling.
The Captain stood up, grunting, and made his way belowdecks. At the bottom of the stairs leading down, the Stranger, with a wide-brimmed hat angled down, leaned up against the wall. A wooden pipe similar to the Captain's own protruded out the edge.
'Good day, Wayfarer,' the Stranger said in a rough voice, keeping his eyes hidden behind his hat.
'Most of the folks here call me the Captain now,' the Captain replied. 'I suppose it's too late to call you the Stranger, eh?'
'You can call me whatever you wish, Wayfarer. Know that I'll call you by your real name, though.'
The Captain made a nervous chuckle. 'You got any tobacco left? I thought my stock was the last on the planet.'
'This is the last of mine,' the Stranger said, exhaling a puff of smoke. 'Was just abovedeck for a second, but I noticed something. A storm's coming.'
'There aren't any clouds in the sky.'
The Stranger laughed. 'You're more attune to these sort of things than I am. You know it's coming. Has everyone been informed to stay belowdecks during a severe storm?'
'Yes. It'll be a brief storm, anyway—quick and painless.'
'I wouldn't say so.'
Silence.
'The Diplomat and the Officer already went to sleep. If the storm starts soon, I'd get them up as soon as possible.'
The Captain nodded. 'Thanks. They were what I was down here for. Didn't think you of all ponies needed looking after.'
'Damn right.' Smoke ceased to escape from the Stranger's pipe. 'Looks like that's the end of tobacco for good, then.'
'Heh. Said that earlier, didn't know you had any.'
The Stranger lifted the pipe away from his mouth and placed it on the floor. 'Worthless antique now, quite a shame really. If I were you, I'd go watch the final stages of the sunset. It’d be better with some tobacco, but it seems nice enough tonight that it'd be a pleasure to watch anyway.'
The Captain nodded. 'You aren't coming?'
'I've watched enough sunsets in my time. Probably not as many as Senior—on that note, go easy on him. He seems more distressed than the others who lost their families. I can only imagine having a lengthier marriage had something to do with it.'
The Captain nodded once more. He left for abovedecks without another word, and to his relief, the sun was still setting—but only just. The waters close to the ship were nearly black, but as he looked out closer and closer to the horizon, a golden shine brightened everything he could see. For a moment, it beckoned to him. He leaned over the edge of the ship, inching closer, closer...
The Captain's eyes and body relaxed as the sun faded from view. His trance of the water ceased to be. The last words he heard before retiring for the night, as sung by the Kid, was another verse of Old World's Privateers.
The captain remained the last one on the ship
Oh how I wish I was at home right now
The captain's crew haunted him, the madness had already taken his mind
Damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas for far out land
End no lives, shed no tears
Now we're all broken from our toils and times
The last of Old World's privateers
