Marco held the wheel tightly in his hands. He had taken command of the Nina. He gave the shoreline one last glance. He had not hated the Captain, but when his dishonesty had been discovered by the first mate he had thrown his lot in with the other men.

This adventure has been full of peril and strife. He wanted his mother and his sister. He no longer wished for riches and land. He wanted to go back to his life on the farm, milking cows and gathering eggs. He wanted to go home. He kept his chin up, hiding the tell tale quiver as he thought about the men they had left upon the island of death. For that is what it was, a place of hardship and nightmares. Everything upon those curse shores wished to kill you. From the innocuous spiders full of venom, to the monster lurking in the rivers. Marco forced his eyes to the horizon, he must be strong. He must not dwell on the men they left to die.

The three ships cut easily through the water, the white sails with the St Andrew's cross billowing majestically as they fled the doomed land. The deck creaked gently as the hull cut through the crystal clear water. The men kept their faces to the breeze eager to feel the salt spray upon their skin once more. Marco dreaded the crossing. What had begun as a great adventure upon the open sea had now become a great source of anxiety for him. The beasts of the deep terrified him. He had a newfound respect for the dangers of the ocean. He would never again be lured by the sirens call. He would stay on land... if he reached it again. His thirst for adventure had been quenched.

The End.