Jocelyn spent much of the next day alone in her cabin. Smee brought her meals, but they went untouched. However, being young and not much used to the blackness of depression, she found that her stamina for self-pity petered out by dinnertime. She joined her crew in time to hear Dirty Bob, gleefully smoking dual cigars, tell a tale about the Flying Dutchman.

Given your general lack of knowledge concerning anything of interest, I’ll assume you know nothing about the Dutchman. The short version is this: The Flying Dutchman is a ghost ship doomed to sail on forever. She is almost always accompanied by a storm that appears from nowhere. Those unlucky enough to see the cursed vessel generally meet with an early doom. They might be washed overboard, killed in drunken brawls, or struck with dysentery. One unfortunate sailor I know of fell over the railing and was eaten alive by a pod of passing dolphins.

Dirty Bob’s story went late, well into first watch. Still feeling remorse over her behavior the night before, Jocelyn excused her men, taking the post herself. However, thanks to Bob’s storytelling, the crew members were too afraid to be alone in their bunks. They all crowded around the girl “so that she wouldn’t be lonely.”

Jim McCraig with a Wooden Leg made his way to the young captain through the press of bodies. Smee translated: “Captain, I feel the phantom ache. Storm’s coming.”

Nubbins broke into a panic. “A storm’s coming? It’s the Flying Dutchman. Save us!”

His hysteria spread faster than the pox. One-Armed Jack cried out, “I want my mother!”

The wind changed direction and began to blow with new intensity. Blind Bart made sure his eye patches were in place, invisibility affording him some protection.

The first few drops of rain fell. Smee made a sound that was certainly not a shriek and struggled to hide in an apple barrel.

Lightning flashed. Nubbins knelt down and loudly confessed his sins. (None were worth listening to.)

Thunder rattled the deck. One-Armed Jack cried out, “I-I-I see it! Lord have mercy, it’s the F-F-Flying Dutchman!”

Jocelyn climbed upon a crate and whistled for attention. “Stop this foolishness before I give you dogs something to be afraid of! What you are looking at is a thundercloud on the horizon! It is not the Flying Dutchman!”

The crew listened, taking courage from her words. Jocelyn continued. “A storm is coming and it may be a bad one. This is no time to lose our heads—we’ve got to ready the ship. I will not have you all distracted by ghost stories, so I will only say this once: There is no such thing as the Flying Dutchman!”

The crew scurried off to batten hatches and secure rigging.

“Strike the sails or they will be ripped to shreds!” Jocelyn called after them. She turned into the gale and faced the gathering clouds, trying to determine the best course of action. Something on the waves caught the girl’s attention. She rubbed the lens of her spyglass and held it up for a closer look.

A great black ship was sailing directly out of the storm. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, Jocelyn would never have believed it, but there it was, clear as could be: a ghost ship heading right at them.

A part of her wanted to react as Smee had, to run away and find someplace safe (quite sensible of him, if you ask me), but she was the captain. If anyone, living or dead, threatened her ship, she had no choice but to blast them out of the water. Even in her fright, that thought made her smile. This would be ever so much better than paper boats aflame.

Quietly, so as not to attract any attention, she made her way to Dirty Bob. The rest of the men were too busy preparing for the storm to notice. “Bob, I saw the Dutchman. It’s coming for us. How can we fight it?”

The wind howled as the storm gathered strength. Dirty Bob took Jocelyn’s spyglass and looked. “No! It couldn’t be. But the ship—it’s unmistakable.” Bob’s hand shook. He lowered the glass and handed it back to the girl. Lightning flashed again, closer this time, and its light illuminated fear on the old pirate’s face.

“That’s not the Dutchman—would that it were! Cap’n, you’d best ready your men for a fight. That there is the Calypso’s Nightmare, sailed by a man worse’n the devil himself.

“Prepare to meet Captain Krueger.”