"It's a bad omen."

The young man this statement was spoken to, tried not to show his disappointment on his face.

"I work hard, sir."

"You're a fiddler. Remove yourself from this ship and don't return."

The young male who tried to be accepted as a sailor on 'the blue moon', wasn't really surprised by his refusal. Over the years a new superstition, that fiddlers were a bad omen on a ship, had surfaced. This had greatly reduced his chances to be accepted on any ship.

Though with the enormous shortage of sailors, there were many recruiters who would try to seduce some unfortunate men into signing for a three years journey to hell. And then no one cared if they were a fiddler or not. So he wasn't that sad about this refusal.

It would only be more fun to be accepted on the ship.

He had waited till the sun had set and the moon had risen. He had almost given up on getting accepted on this particular ship, because maybe they had already enough mates. But then a shady looking figure emerged from the ship and jumped on the quay. Before quickly disappearing into the shadows behind two bars.

His first victim for this journey.

After following this particular man into the bar, he stood at the bar and ordered several beer which he quickly made work of. With that action he captured the attention of the recruiter of hell. A lonely young male in a bar drowning his sorrows in cheap alcohol. A perfect example of a soon to be sailor, caught in a contract they don't remember signing.

When he raised his hand to order yet another round of beer, he was stopped by the recruiter. Before he could show of his practised show of drunken anger. The recruiter told the barman he would be paying. With a short nod of his head, he showed his gratitude to the man and kept on pretending to drink his sorrows away.

This circle repeated itself several times, till he normally would have been passed out drunk. That was the moment the man who had been paying his drinks, shoved an official looking paper under his nose and put a writing utensil in his hand.

"Could you sign this paper for me, dear?"

The gleeful smile that appeared on both of their faces could barely be suppressed. Though he did a far better job at hiding it, than the recruiter did when he promptly signed his name.

As of now, he was a proud member of ' the blue moon's ' crew.

The next morning he woke up after someone dumped a bucket of ice cold seawater over his face. And if that hadn't waked him up yet, the thundering words screamed in his ears, that he should have already been working, sure did.

It was a bit unfortunate that he was soaking wet right now. Considering the fact he wasn't even asleep, he had just been playing a drunken idiot who was sleeping out his drunkenness. Sleep wasn't something he needed nor required.

Now was it important to properly play the part of confused greenhorn, who had never been on a ship before and was tricked into entering this one. Luckily he had experience with that, and he easily fell back into this practised routine.

The next few weeks were one of trial and error. He became friends with his shift mates, and one of the veterans teached him everything to become a professional sailor. Once again he learned all the knots and how to climb the sails. Together they watched the sunset in the rigging and woke up to eat ship's rusk.

Only one set-back was awfully clear. The man who had refused to accept him on the ship was a constant presence in the back of his mind. He, unfortunately, had also boarded the ship, and was the helmsman.

He had superstitional believes, and would surely remember he was a fiddler. He didn't put it below the man to throw him overboard to appease the ocean.

It was better to not play his fiddle when that man was around.

So after another few weeks, during a drunken evening with the mates below deck. He took his fiddle from his duffle and started playing a lively tune. Only after a few notes the mates were already dancing around him. Singing along to the songs everyone knew.

This became almost a daily occurrence, and with the helmsman confined to his room, he had gotten a high fever, he even played during the day. When that was the case even the officers stopped what they were doing to listen to his songs.

Slowly but surely, he started to bewitch the ship and her crew. Till they had all fallen under his spell.

Just in time, because the helmsman had gotten better and was again out and about, navigating the ship to safer shores. Because of that, it wasn't safe anymore for him to play during the day, and without those songs they would have surely arrived save on shore.

Now he only needed to keep playing during the evening parties. With those added songs, it would still be enough to ensure the completion of his mission.

•••

They had been tormented by an enormous storm. For hours they had been fighting for the survival of the ship and their own lives. And now the ocean was calm once again. Though none of that calmness could be found on board of the boat.

The helmsman had, unfortunately, survived the ordeal. And was now, justifiably, extremely suspicious of the crew. He was sure one of them had summoned the bad weather on them, because during this time of the year a storm like they had just survived shouldn't have been there. Though he was right in that conclusion, no one important cared about it. It was a known fact that he had many superstitional believes, and wouldn't rest till he had found the presumed instigator.

So instead of granting his helmsman his wish, the captain told everyone to set sail again and that they should be on the lookout for bad weather. A wise decision, because none of the mates were willing to be inspected. Every single one of them had some sort of illegal stuff on them they didn't needed the authorities to find out about.

Him being one of those illegalities.

Thus they continued their voyage to the other end of the ocean. The days with soft weather were long gone, thanks to his hard work. Every day was a battle to keep the ship afloat and sailing in the right direction, hoping to reach the shore.

A place they would never reach.

•••

Storm after storm had tormented the ship, every new one was more dangerous than the last one. Because of this, they had already lost a third of their sailors and most of their cargo. Now everyone wanted to just get to the shore as fast as possible, before they would be unable to survive the next storm. That was also the main reason why none of his crewmates desired for him to play a jolly tune on his fiddle during the night to dance on.

Though that didn't stop him. Every evening when everyone was trying to catch some sleep, despite the ship almost sinking every other hour, he would play on his fiddle as silent as he could manage. His mission was almost completed. Every day the storm became more and more severe. If he could keep this up, than within three days the storm would disappear for a day. To come back in full intensity the next day and drag the ship to the bottom of the ocean.

"The storm has subsided, sir! If the weather stays like this, than in a few days we will be back on course."

The cheer of one of the mates alerted the captain, and awoke him from his sleep. After he had heard these words he jumped out of bed and raced towards the deck to see for himself.

It was true. The sky was clear for the first time in weeks. A soft breeze was teasing the sails, and they were smoothly sailing towards their destination.

When the captain had confirmed the sailors words, loud cheers arose from the gathered sailors. Maybe. Maybe they would survive this horrendous journey.

But their hopes and prayers were futile. A mere seven hours later the storm was back. Fiercer than it had ever been before. The sailors tried to keep the ship afloat. The captain and his right hand together with the helmsman were screaming orders.

But there was nothing that could save them.

"Throw everything overboard, make sure the sails don't tear!"

The helmsman tried to at least get the ship to safer waters.

"Fiddler, get your ass over here! We need your help."

Those carelessly spoken words, almost immediately disappeared into the storm. Unable to reach the fiddler who was standing in the rigging. Though they weren't missed by the helmsman.

He heard the words he feared most to hear on any ship. A fiddler. Of course he was the reason they were stuck in this storm. He had summoned it, to drag the ship and crew to the depths of hell.

It was a lost cause.

They would never be able to save the ship, as long as the fiddler was present on it.

As long as the fiddler was on it.

An idea appeared in his mind. When he had thrown the fiddler overboard, he could satisfy the sea and save everyone from a gruesome death. He just needed to find the damn bastard.

With a new founded purpose, the helmsman searched the entire ship. But in the end he was unable to find him anywhere, and they were nearly out of time.

Till he heard something. A faint sound carried from above by the blazing wind. A wild melody that was swiping up the storm. To be bigger. Wilder.

It was the fiddler. Standing in the tops, playing his fiddle.

A manical laughter could be heard, but no one knew who it belonged to.

The helmsman was climbing the rigging, when for the first time since he had denied the fiddler access to the ship, they looked each other in the eyes. The fiddler didn't look surprised at the presence of the helmsman, only mildly amused. He knew the helmsman was unable to stop him at this point. So it didn't matter that he was figured out.

"I knew there was a fiddler on board! I knew it and no one believed me!"

The helmsman screamed in anger into the storm, knowing the fiddler wouldn't be able to hear him nor anyone else. He was too far away to reach the fiddler in time to throw him overboard.

He could only look as the fiddler raised his bow and started to play his last song.

He could only watch as the storm reached its peak, and the waves rose to heights he never knew were possible.

He could only watch as the fiddler tipped his head back and laughter filled the air.

He could only watch as the waves crashed into the ship and dragged it to the bottom of the ocean.

And as water filled his mouth and lungs, he could still faintly hear the fiddler say.

"You were right. It is a bad omen."

March 4, 2022

The Fiddler on the deck
By: Santiano