Rewound

I watched the ship pull away from the small island. It left behind a sense of injustice, frustration, and an all-consuming feeling of hopelessness. "I'M INNOCENT! MY DEATH WILL BE ON ALL OF YOUR HANDS!!" I yelled out at the top of my lungs. They would realize when it was too late that they had picked the wrong man.

My name is Benji Woodson. I was a shipwright employed on the ship in her majesty's service. I'm not bragging when I tell you I was one of the best in my field.

I sat down next to a copse of palm trees, the sand clinging to me already fraying my nerves. My mind raced back to the events of the last three nights. We had sailed through a fierce hurricane a fortnight ago. For several days we sailed through the monster storm when finally our illustrious and skillful captain pushed through the outside of the wall of rain and wind. We took heavy damage and my job, of course was to repair it. We found a small island full of good timber and for the next week I made repairs. This week we were back on the water making good time and heading home. It was three nights ago that our ship took on a bad leak. I found the leak and was quite puzzled as it was an area that I had just repaired. The wood hadn't even changed its color from the salt and water. I swiftly repaired the leak and all was fine until midnight… when once again the ship started to list with a heavy leak. At this time the captain became concerned that perhaps there was a traitor amongst the crew. He believed so much in my skill as a shipwright, that he felt something was wrong. So after the problem was fixed the next morning he ordered an inspection of everyone's living quarters. I walked with him as he looked over each bunk and their small footlockers.

After searching most of the crew and finding nothing he turned to me and said, "Woodson, we will need to check your quarters as well."

"Of course sir, I fully expected you to." I nodded.

We went down into the hold to my small room. My tools lined the small room and my bed along with my footlocker looked untouched. One of the marines checked the chest and began pulling clothes out of it. At the bottom of the chest a small envelope lay all alone. The man pulled the envelope out and handed it to the captain. The captain turned to me and said, "Do you recognize this letter Woodson?"

"Sir, honestly I do not. I've never seen that envelope in my life." My stomach was now in knots… I had a bad feeling about this.

He used his knife to open the letter and I watched as his face went from curiosity to outright anger.

"This letter Woodson. It's a letter from the Spanish. It's orders to sabotage the Sea Leopard, to do anything it takes to keep the ship from making it back to England," he said brusquely.

I stuttered, my face I'm sure turned as white as a sheet. "Sir, sir, I've no idea where that letter came from!"

"And yet, the orders are given to a Mr. Woodson. Benji, do you know of any other Woodson on this ship?" He asked with condemnation already thick in his voice.

"No sir there isn't, but why would I seek to sink this ship? I've been caring for her for over a year. Why would I jeopardize my own life let alone this crew?" I tried to make him see reason.

"And yet, in this letter it says for you to grab a liferaft and you will be picked up at an unspecified island east of here. Seems rather convenient doesn't it, Mr. Woodson?"

"Sir, I…I… don't know what to say. I'm innocent!" I pleaded with him.

"Throw him in the brig lieutenant. I'll make a decision on his future later."

He wasted no time. A day and a half later they dropped me off on this godforsaken island with a jug of water, a small crate of crackers, and a pistol with one ball in the barrel. The last words the captain said to me still echoed in my mind, like words from the reaper himself. "Woodson, may God have mercy on your soul."

I took stock of my surroundings. The island was small, it couldn't be bigger than half a mile in width and length. I stood up, I didn't even try to brush the gritty sand from my pants and walked the entire outer edge of the island. It took nearly half the day to do it and oddly enough I found a small pile of crumbling stone, as though some long forgotten buildings may have stood here.

That night I decided to stay near the copse of palms. The night was cold, the water loud as it slapped against the small beach. I ate some of the crackers and drank a swig of the water. I had to get off this island… tomorrow I would move inland and walk it. My hopes were low, so low that I feared that maybe it would be better if I just ended it… the pistol would be quick and painless, but what kept me sane was justice. I had to find a way off this island.

I soon fell asleep, the sound of the waves a lullaby in this barren place. I woke up to the same sound. I felt energized after eating another few crackers and a swig or two of water. I moved quickly into the underbrush trying to find enough wood to perhaps make a raft that could hold me. I felt pretty frustrated that they didn't leave any kind of tool for me to survive. My journey inland wasn't a long one. There was a small path from the beach to the center of the island. Strangely, it was worn enough that I began to grow concerned that someone had been here before. I walked up to a clearing within the underbrush where a small cave was. The feelings of fear and apprehension caused me to sweat and tremble. I took a deep breath and stepped down into the small cave. The sound of water dripping was deafening but that wasn't what even concerned me the most. For what I was walking on wasn't the dirty ground of a cave but rather finely carved steps leading down at a steep angle. I gripped the pistol thinking I may need more than the one shot for whatever was down here. As I stepped down to the ground floor of the cave I saw that I was within a large anteroom. It was dark but as I stepped across the threshold of the last step, sconces along the walls lit up to reveal the room. It was full of words scribbled in a hodgepodge of meanings and prophecies. Many of the phrases and words are written in numerous languages. I walked along the walls trying to read some of them, each line more confusing than the last.

The Key to Time, and To control the past one must understand the future, and finally one other line that left me breathless… Only here can justice be met…

The air is both still and stale and everything seems wrong and yet, lively energy seems to radiate in the room.

I stopped reading further and looked towards the back of the room. An altar made with mother of pearl and bleached bones sat there, and on its surface a golden chest sat inviting me. I was trembling uncontrollably now but I felt the strong hand of something great waiting within the chest. I walked over to it and looked closer at the chest. On its hinge the latch appeared to be a clock. I pushed the head of the dial and a faint click sounded in the still room. I held my breath as I lifted the lid…

Within the chest lay a luxurious but simple pearl. Its beauty was something so pure that it brought tears to my eyes instantly. I felt the brightness as well as the sudden heavy sense of justice. Underneath the pearl was a small crumbled parchment. I slid it out to read what it said and I was stunned at what I read…

This pearl is known simply as the "Pearl Of Judgement", a gift from the gods of the sea. It is said that all who find their way to this island, learn that it cannot and will not exist without the need of a person who has been wronged or done wrong. The ancient gods of the sea have brought you here and granted you a choice.

You can crush this pearl in the palm of your hand to find freedom. What this freedom looks like will be unknown to you until after it is crushed. Two, you can crush this pearl to the moment the heinous act of injustice was done to you to reverse it and continue your life as it was meant to be. The choice is yours. Choose carefully.

I placed the letter back into the chest and picked up the pearl. I studied it as I thought over the contents of the letter. If I took freedom then what was freedom really? I felt as though the unknown made this decision a huge risk and yet, I was sure that most had gone with this choice. What if freedom was actually death and by choosing it you simply evaded the injustice you would have had to experience? If I went with the second option then I got a chance at catching the saboteur while also being free to live my life the way I intended. The longer I thought on it the more I felt that option two was what the pearl was actually intended for. I took a deep breath after realizing that I never stopped holding it after lifting the lid of the chest up. I placed the pearl between my index finger and thumb, thinking about the day before the events began, and felt the pearl give way. I blacked out instantly.

I opened my eyes to find that I was laying in my cot, the familiar and wonderful feeling of the water cradling our ship and the sailors aboard into a dreamless sleep. I remembered this night for this was the night after I spent the week repairing the ship when we sailed out to sea heading for Great Britain. As my mind thought about these things I heard a small shuffle of footsteps outside my cabin and the door slowly turning. I reached underneath my pillow and grabbed my hand axe that leaned against the small nightstand by my cot. The figure slipped into my room heading for my footlocker. As they bent over it and began shuffling with the lid I jumped up fast, springing my trap by not tackling the person but instead blocking the door. The figure yelped and I yelled loud enough to wake everyone on board.

"INTRUDER IN THE SHIPWRIGHT'S CABIN, HELP!! INTRUDER!!"

It didn't take long for the marines to knock on the door. So while holding my hand axe in front of me I opened the door. The captain stepped in behind me, the lieutenant and a guard as well, both holding lanterns. I saw the figure's face and recognized the man to be the ship's gunner. A big brawny man whom I now knew to be a traitor.

"What's the meaning of this Woodson?" he barked at me.

"Sir I woke up to this man fumbling in my footlocker. He had an envelope in his hand and was trying to slip it into it," I told him, making sure I showed no fear but rather aggravation at being woken up.

“Do you have a good reason as to why you would be in the shipwright's cabin in the middle of the night Mr. Dreg?

"No sir, I simply woke up to use the bathroom and took a wrong turn. Mr. Woodson is a liar sir!" He protested too loudly.

"Then surely you won't mind if we pat you down to be sure?" The captain said coldly.

The man gulped. He knew this was it and right now he was trapped.

"Of course sir, by all means!" He quickly said.

The captain motioned to the lieutenant who nodded and stepped up to the gunner with his guard and they forced his hands open to find nothing in them. The men then searched his pants pockets and found nothing. Finally they searched his jacket pockets and found something. The lieutenant pulled the envelope out of the pocket and cutting the top open, he pulled the letter out and read it.

"Sir, you may want to take a look at this." He walked over to the captain and handed him the letter.

I saw that familiar look of rage light up his face.

"This letter Mr. Dreg, is a letter from a Carlos Sanchez of the Spanish Royal Navy. It contains orders to Mr. Woodson though I do believe this may have been changed on account of a mark out of the name underneath it. The orders are to sabotage the Sea Leopard, to do anything it takes to keep the ship from making it back to England," he said brusquely. He continued, "It also says for you to grab a liferaft and you will be picked up at an unspecified island east of here. Seems rather convenient doesn't it Mr. Dreg?"

"Sir, sir I didn't….." He began to plead.

"Don't, don't lie to me Mr. Dreg. You are a traitor of the crown, that much I know. You intended to frame Mr. Woodson by placing the letter here before you started the job of sabotaging the ship, weren't you?"

"I…."

"Don't answer that question. You are a coward and a cad. Lieutenant, for betraying his queen and her navy, I have but one consequence: death. However, to me that is too easy. He is condemned to live out his life on a deserted island. Place him in the brig until we have sight of the nearest patch of sand."

The lieutenant saluted the captain and he and the marine dragged the despondent man down to the brig.

The captain waited until they left before acknowledging me.

"You did well Mr. Woodson. Without your interference and awareness of your surroundings our ship may have sunk and all of us perished. You will be commended towards a promotion upon landing in Great Britain."

"Thank you sir." I saluted and still my heart raced at the profound luck, not the interference of the gods of the sea. I made a mental note to give them something of mine that held real value for their salvation of me.

Days later our ship pulled up to a small familiar island. We left Mr. Dreg with just a small jug of water, a small box of crackers, and a pistol with one ball in the barrel. As the ship pulled out to sea, I took one last look, Mr. Dreg sat on the beach the pistol in his hand contemplating his options, I'm sure.

Justice it seems… had been served.