It was the first night of the new moon. A dense fog that left water droplets on those who passed through blanketed the pier. Throughout the haze, one could slightly recognize the silhouette of a ship anchored a few miles from the coast. Aboard the vessel were about seventy pirates: minacious, relentless thieves that haunted the dreams of those who resided in vulnerable port cities.

However, amongst the brutes, there was a young man of twenty-three years of age named Oliver Smith. Like the others, most of his thought processes revolved around finding ways to earn more money. Oliver was different, though; the money he collected went straight to his poverty-stricken family in London. He didn’t enjoy ravaging other families or tormenting civilians in order to succeed, but rough times called for desperate measures.

On this particular evening, Oliver decided to count his earnings that he had quickly shoved into his coin pouch after that morning’s raid on a ship called the Waverly. He noticed he had gathered less than usual and, knowing how his family at home needed more, became a bit concerned. A few of the more civilized marauders leaning against the foremast noticed his bitter face and, chuckling to themselves, made a sarcastic suggestion.

“Why dontcha ask the cap’n if he’ll lend ya a few?”

Oliver, not recognizing the facetious tone they were implying, decided to head off to the captain’s quarters. He wasn’t aware of the instant fear that had entered his crewmates’ eyes and felt a small wave of confidence rush through him, having never met the captain.

It’s just a loan, he thought. I’ll even sign off on it. No big deal.

Having rehearsed what he planned to say in his head a number of times, the young man firmly knocked on the door. With no reply, he knocked again, a bit louder this time. He repeated this process until one of the men from earlier nervously called out to him.

“Y’know, lad, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Thinking the men were trying to scare him out of getting his money, he shrugged off the warning and slowly opened the door until he finally caught sight of a man of large stature in the center of the room that was lit by a single dying lantern.

The captain sat hunched over his old hickory desk. His coat radiated a stench of whiskey, smoke, and sweat that posed any individual unlucky enough to cross his path the challenge of attempting to hold back their gags of disgust. His hair was soot black and coated in a layer of grime that stained whatever it touched.

“Close the door,” the man said in a voice that would frighten the bravest of men.

Greatly regretting his decision, the young man slowly entered the room, letting the heavy door fall shut behind him.

“Y-yes, sir.”

The captain rose from his seat in a deliberately slow manner, revealing his full stature as he towered over the young man. His caliginous eyes had such a sharp glare to them that Oliver would later remark he could feel them stripping away a small sliver of his sanity. Of all his features, the one that seemed to stand out the most to him was the rusted silver hook that took the place of his left hand.

Oliver suddenly realized who he was facing. The blood plummeted from his cheeks and his entire body was overcome with a paralyzing sense of fear.

He stood deathly still as the man raised his hook ever so slowly, placing the tip of it directly underneath his trembling chin. He choked back whimpers of fear as the captain lowered his face to where he could look directly into his eyes.

“I highly suggest you never enter my cabin again. Are we understood?”

Each word slapped him in the face with a stench more rancid than anything he had ever experienced.

“Y-yes, sir. Completely, sir.”
The captain gestured to the door with a quick glance and Oliver sprinted from the room, not once looking back as he exited the dark cabin. The crew followed him to the bunks, asking what the captain looked like and what he had said. He quietly answered the given questions and turned in early while the rest of the crew finished their nightly routines.

To this day, Oliver is the only man who has spoken with Captain James Hook and lived to tell the tale.