TRAVIS

Something slowly roused Travis from his sleep. This place is nicer than what I had in mind. The man slowly sat up and sleepily glanced around the quaint little room that looked unused. No scuffs marred the bare wooden floors, the walls, or either of the two furniture items in the room; A simple mahogany nightstand with three empty drawers and a matching physical bed with clean white bedding.

Though he had been hoping for a hammock, he had to admit the bed was very nice after a long time sleeping suspended in a cloth hung between two nails. As Travis stood, he glanced at the porthole, a rare luxury on most wooden ships, and blinked as bright sunlight reached his eyes.

"What time is it?" He mumbled to himself. The clock above the door read the eighth hour, but he did not trust it after the previous day. He straightened his shirt, then approached the door and emerged back into the hallway.

The ship was just as silent as he remembered. Am I sure this is not some ship for the dead? For a brief moment, a foreign feeling assured him he was alive before it quickly fled from his mind.

Travis shivered, then walked up the stairs and emerged onto the sunlit deck. He blinked as his eyes quickly adjusted and realized the clock had been accurate to the placement summer sun.

The sun feels nice, warm, but not burning like usual. He glanced at the clear blue sky, then towards the figurehead. With a blink, he noticed the silhouette of land quickly approaching and quickly recognized it. "Home," he breathed as his eyes traced the lines of masts that littered the shipyard.

He marveled at the speed at which the bay approached. How is this possible? No ship could ever go this fast. The vessel continued its pace, and in a few seconds, the tiny dots on the distant dock became recognizable as panicked humans.

The people on the wharf made several desperate attempts to flag the ship to stop, but despite their mirror flashing and hand signals, the ship did not slow. "We're going to crash!" He panicked and raced towards the mast to pull the sails closed.

However, before he arrived, the ropes untied themselves and lowered the sails before retying themselves. With the sails securely furled and tied, the ship began to slow, but Travis watched the docks approach with wide eyes.

To his surprise, the ship calmly stopped in an empty dock. "H-how?" He breathed and struggled to calm himself.

"Ahoy there!" A familiar voice called as a gangplank fell onto place from the dock, probably one of the spares.

As feet pounded up the plank, Travis ran towards the railing. "Dad!" He yelled as he stopped with his hands on the gold-leafed wood.

"Travis!" His father blinked as a few more men cautiously boarded the empty vessel, then approached the gangplank, his posture stiff.

Travis ran towards the gangplank and met his father as he stepped onto the boat. "Dad! There—"

The man raised and silenced his son as the young adult neared. "Why are you here? You were scheduled to come back in a few months, and you promised me that you would not weasel your way out and come home early as some of your brothers have." He sternly crossed his arms.

"Dad, a storm sank the ship, and I was adrift for a while before Paragon found me adrift. A wave swept me away before I could get to the lifeboat." Travis widely gestured to the still-perfectly still figurehead.

Despite his attempts to explain, his father shook his head. "There's no need to lie about how you are too scrawny to be a seaman; you ran away. You were barely gone for a few months." When one of his builders approached, his focus turned towards him, "any luck with the crew?"

The burly man, Burton, shook his head, "the doors are locked sir, there is no one hiding anywhere above deck."

"Peculiar," the master shipwright rubbed his chin, "Why would the crew lock themselves in? The helmsman should have at least stayed to ensure the vessel properly docked after they tied the sails." He glanced up at the neat rigging.

"Dad, Paragon doesn't have a—"

A wave of his elder's hand silenced the son as the shipyard master looked to his workers. "Tie her up for now, and post a watch for any member of the crew. If no one shows, we'll beach her at high tide and inspect the hull for any necessary repairs." When the men nodded, the burly father faced his son. "Now, you head off to your room and we are going to have a long talk about why you returned early." He looked down at the youngest son.

Travis sighed and briefly glanced back to the white ship as he melancholily trudged down the boardwalk. After he reached the end of the pier, he looked down at the dirt path. Dad will never believe me; I will always be a failure to him. He blindly followed the road to the building atop the nearby hill.

He did not bother knocking and opened the unlocked door to the homey wooden buildings. "Honey?" A feminine voice melodiously rang from another room. A woman poked her head through a doorway. "T—Travis!" She gasped, "what are you doing back so soon? You aren't due for several more months! She emerged from the other room and approached him.

"Hi mom, you know, I'm a failure, like always," Travis mumbled as he shied away from his mother's gentle touch as she reached up to touch his cheek. "I have to go to my room, dad's orders." He sighed, then slowly climbed up the stairs. He entered the third room on the left.

The room had changed while he was gone; the two other residents of the room had started using his empty mattress as a place to lazily store stinky clothes and a few objects that Travis had left behind. His brothers even covered his dresser with items that didn't belong to him.

He picked up one of the wooden figures and sighed as he sat down in its place. The old mattress sank under his weight as he fingered the half-finished wooden fish. With a sigh, he pulled a folding knife from his pocket and began to smooth the rough edges of the piece.

He remained for many moments and continued to carve scales. I don't think I could ever get to the level of detail in Paragon. He paused as he heard a door slam downstairs with such force the timbers of the house rattled. With a sigh, he closed the blade and set the nearly-done carving next to him.

A furious man stormed through the doorway mere seconds later, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. "So, what's the real story? Why are you home so early? I sent you off to become a man, and you failed again."

"You wouldn't believe the truth, I already told it to you." Travis sighed and looked back down to his hands. Nothing I ever do or say makes him proud. I'm not as good as my older brothers.

"At least you gained some muscle, but you are still practically a twig." The burly shipwright crossed his bare arms covered in old scars. "I don't know what to do with you," his countenance hovered just above a glare. "Why can't you be more like your brothers? Until I can arrange another ship for you to work on, you are going to have to do hard labor in the yard until then."

"Yes, sir," Travis sighed and bowed his head. I could never get his approval, even if I became a successful captain of a ship.

"Do you know why the crew won't come out from Paragon? How did they stop the ship without being outside of it?"

"Paragon does not have a crew; she is her crew." Travis managed to look up to his father. "It's a magic ship."

"And I am the king of Lacuna," the man hoarsely scoffed and nearly rolled his eyes. "Now, report to Jack, and he will release you when he sees fit." His stare practically set his son ablaze.

"Yes, sir," Travis stood and moved towards the door. He had hoped to have to report to Criz, the head figurehead carver, but Jack, the head lumberjack, was much more in line with the heavy punishment the shipwright had in mind.

"Move it!" His dad bellowed.

The shipwright's son broke into a near run as he rushed out of the house, then sprinted across the shipyard towards the lumber field. By the time he arrived in a log-covered area, he had to hunch over after finally stopping.

"Boy, what are you doing here?" The gruff voice traveled across the area. "I thought you were going to be gone for a while."

The previously shipwrecked man managed to straighten and opened his eyes. "Reporting for duty, sir." He managed to control his breathing, but he was still panting heavily.

Lead Lumberjack Jack blinked and strode over to him. "I guess the boss is punishing you for being early?" He adjusted his overalls as he eyed his section of the shipyard. "All right, start hauling some of these logs to the work stations." He towered over Travis, both in height and muscular girth.

"Yes, sir." Travis nodded and walked over to a pile of logs marked as ready to be moved to be cut and bent. The wood had to be dried and cured first, as green wood typically resisted the splitting process more than logs that had time to dry out and mature after being cut.

"Travis, you have a couple of tears in your shirt; where did those come from?" Jack's voice seemed concerned.

"You wouldn't believe me" the younger man sighed and grabbed a rope attached to a log on the top of the pile, then used all of his weight to pull it to the ground. "Ufffgh—Don't worry, these aren't from Dad. I haven't been able to change clothes in a couple of days or more." He strained slightly as he slowly pulled the timber across the grassless ground.

"What happened?" Jack effortlessly grabbed two logs and dragged them alongside Travis. "why haven't you change clothes? What happened to the clothes you packed into your sea chest before you left?" Travis knew the buff lumber masker could go much faster but was walking slower to talk.

"They are at the bottom of the ocean;" Travis mumbled slowly, "I'm never getting any of that back."

"WHAT?" Jack nearly dropped both of his ropes. "Is that what that beautiful ship is for? Her crew rescued you after your boat wrecked?"

"Gah—You could say that..." Travis managed to mumble.

"How was the ship inside that luxury vessel? The captain must have been quite kind to take time out of their route to bring you here." Jack's eyes lit up slightly, "With a white hull, she's either royal or medical. She appears to be in too good of condition to be a ghost ship. She must sail like a dream, though I don't recognize that flag."

"She is empty—Paragon has no captain—it's a ghost ship." Travis sighed between strained breaths. "She's—ug—magic. She is her crew."

"Then Boss needs to get it out of our bay; ghost ships are bad omens." Jack frowned as he looked across the shipyard to the partially obscured white hull. "It needs to be chopped up and burned or towed out and burned at sea." He spoke in a low tone. "Shame though, it's a beauty of a ship. But if it's a phantom vessel then we won't have to worry about angry kings or the deaths of hundreds when we destroy her."

I'm not sure if Paragon can be chopped up and burnt. "What about the White Phantom?" Travis grunted, "Isn't that a good ghost ship?"

Jack snorted, "I doubt we would remember there is a ship there if that is the White Phantom. No one has clear memories of their time on that ship. I've heard of entire crews not remembering how they got in port after their ship sank and everyone chocks it up to the White Phantom." He huffed. "Also, according to legend, that vessel is always surrounded by mist. This is probably some abandoned royal ship and now the memories of being a ship keep it sailing."

"Memories that keep it sailing?" Travis looked up to the taller man. "What do you mean by that?'

"Wood has memories, that's how it keeps at least part its shape when bent, saltwater that seeps into wood will always leave a bit of salt when dried." His eyes glazed over as he lost himself to thought. "Trees remember droughts and fires, and even ships remember. You can patch and repair all you want, but the vessel will always remember." He blinked and refocused.

Travis remained silent except for his continued strained groans from hauling the logs. As they approached the splitting field, he spoke once more. "If you were offered to be captain of a ghost ship from the ship itself, would you accept?"

"No, I don't want to be involved with any bad omens." He quickly spoke as he handed both his logs and Travis's log to one of the hatchet-wielding log splitters. After a pause, he looked at the shipwright's son. "It offered that to you, didn't it?" His face became grave, "don't tell me that you are thinking to accept? That's practically a death sentence!" He began the trek back up to the piles of logs.

"She did," Travis slowly spoke in a low voice, "she wants me to organize trade deals and help her become an active merchant ship again."

He paused, "You've always been good at talking and making friends with everyone, well, except the boss." Jack shook his head, "But that is just the ship clinging to memories of being a merchant ship, and you should deny its offer. It should be destroyed."

Travis paused and spent the rest of his punishment deep in thought. What do I want to do?

Author Notes!

This was an interesting chapter to writs, what do you guys think about it?

What would you do in Travis's position?

I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!