Quaternary Wrathtide

My name is Walter “Walnut” Godfrey, and I am the cabin boy of a pirate crew known as the Blue Thunder. There was a time when our name was feared across the Seven Seas. 

Other ships would change their course when they saw our flag, and sailors would whisper about our captain whenever they heard that the Blue Thunder was nearby. We were not always the strongest pirates, but we were known for finding things that others could not. 

Our captain was a man who never gave up. Whenever he found something worth chasing, he would keep going until he had it in his hands, no matter how dangerous the journey became. Back then, I thought that was what made him a great captain. I did not understand that the same stubbornness would eventually destroy us. And somehow, I became part of the reason it all went wrong.

That year was the year everything changed. Every fourth year, the weather across the Seven Seas suddenly becomes violent. The winds change without warning, the waves grow larger, and the currents become difficult to predict. 

Sailors call this strange season the Quaternary Wrathtide. It is a dangerous time for anyone who travels by sea, even for experienced sailors who have spent most of their lives aboard ships. There are only two kinds of people who would willingly sail through a Wrathtide, those skilled enough to believe they can survive it, and those reckless enough to not care about the danger. 

If you are wondering which one I was, the answer is simple. I was a pirate, after all. Of course I was one of the reckless ones.

But we had a reason for taking the risk.

It all started when we explored a cave on an island that was far away from the usual sailing routes. While searching through the cave, I found the remains of an old ship buried among the rocks. Most of it had already been destroyed by time, but there was still enough left for us to recognize the symbol carved into the wood. It belonged to the Soaring Dutchman, the legendary pirate ship that had disappeared hundreds of years ago.

The Soaring Dutchman was famous for having one of the most successful pirate crews in history. According to old records, they had travelled across the Seven Seas and discovered countless treasures. They were said to have found gold hidden beneath forgotten cities, jewels buried inside ancient ruins, and strange relics that had been lost for generations. Nobody knew how they had managed to find so many treasures, but the old stories always mentioned one particular artifact.

The Dutchman’s Compass.

According to the legends, the compass could lead its owner toward the most valuable treasure in the world. Its needle did not point north like an ordinary compass. Instead, it pointed toward whatever treasure was waiting to be found. But there was a condition. The compass was said to judge the person holding it. If their heart was pure, it would lead them toward the treasure. If their heart was rotten, it would lead them somewhere else.

More specifically, towards their death.

Of course, we did not believe much of the story when we first found it. We had the compass aboard the Blue Thunder for years, and nothing ever happened. The needle never moved. We carried it across islands, through forests, ruins, and even other caves, but it never pointed toward anything. After a while, we assumed that the famous Dutchman’s Compass was simply broken.

Then the Wrathtide came, and that was when the compass finally moved.

I remember the moment clearly. We were already sailing through dangerous waters when the needle suddenly began to turn. At first, nobody understood what was happening. The compass shook in our captain’s hand before the needle finally stopped and pointed toward the horizon.

Five seconds later, it moved again.

Then again.

Every five seconds, it changed direction.

Our captain stared at it with a smile that I had not seen in years.

“Captain,” I said, “why is it working now?”

He did not answer.

“It’s been broken for years,” I continued. “Why would it suddenly start working during the Wrathtide?”

One of the crewmen laughed. “Perhaps the old thing finally remembered what it was made for.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. If the compass points toward treasure, shouldn’t it work when there is treasure nearby? Why would it need a storm?”

Our captain finally looked at me.

“Perhaps the treasure only appears during the Wrathtide, enough with this question kid, it’s working.”

I wanted to argue, but I knew there was no point. The moment the compass began moving, our captain had already made his decision. He was not going to let the Wrathtide pass without following it. After all those years of waiting, he finally had proof that the legendary artifact was real.

So we followed it.

The compass continued to point the way, changing direction every five seconds. We had to keep turning the ship to follow it, even when the new direction took us straight toward dangerous waters. At first, the dangers were manageable. We sailed around reefs, avoided rocks, and fought through strong winds. But as we continued, the sea became worse.

The waves began smashing against the Blue Thunder. Our sails were torn apart by the wind, and parts of the ship began breaking under the pressure. Men were thrown overboard, and some never returned. We kept sailing because the compass kept pointing forward.

Every time we thought we had survived the worst of it, another danger appeared.

By then, more than half of our crew was gone.

The Blue Thunder was barely a ship anymore. The deck was damaged, and the hull had taken more beating than it could handle. We had lost men who had sailed with us for years, yet our captain still refused to stop.

He still held the compass.

That was when the rest of us finally agreed that it had to end.

The compass had brought us nothing but pain. We had found no treasure, no ancient city and no legendary vault. All we had found were graves beneath the sea.

We gathered together and demanded that our captain throw the compass away.

“Captain, we’ve lost enough men,” one of the crew said. “Whatever that thing is leading us toward isn’t worth this.”

Another man stepped forward. “The ship won’t survive another storm.”

Our captain looked at us, then looked down at the compass.

“We’re close,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“The compass is still pointing.”

“That isn’t an answer!”

Our captain tightened his grip around the artifact.

“We came this far. I will not turn back now.”

His right-hand man stepped forward. He had been with our captain longer than almost anyone aboard the ship. He was the man who stood beside him during every battle, every expedition, and every treasure hunt.

“Captain,” he said, “listen to them. This has gone too far. We need to abandon the compass.”

“Stand aside.”

“No.”

The captain’s expression changed.

“We are not throwing away the greatest treasure we’ve ever found.”

His right-hand man looked at him in disbelief. “And how many more men are you willing to sacrifice for it?”

There was a long silence.

Then our captain drew his weapon.

Nobody expected what happened next.

A shot straight to the forehead.

He killed his own right-hand man. 

For a moment, nobody moved. The man who had stood beside our captain for years was lying dead on the deck, while the compass remained tightly held in our captain’s hand.

That was when we finally understood.

Our captain had always been greedy. We knew that. But we had never believed that he would value a treasure more than the lives of his own crew.

The Dutchman’s Compass had done something to us long before that moment. It had turned friends against each other and made men who had once fought side by side question whether they could trust the person standing beside them.

The crew was divided.

Some still wanted to follow the captain, but others wanted the compass destroyed.

And for one brief moment, I thought we might stop fighting and come to an agreement. Perhaps we could forget about the treasure, throw the cursed compass into the sea, and find a way to survive together.

Instead, the death of our captain’s right-hand man became the final blow.

It was the moment the Blue Thunder truly fell apart.