Somewhere in the vast ocean, there was a pirate ship. Two masts rose toward the sky, on top of which two flags wavered in the wind. Unlike most flags, black with a skull on them, these two were blank. If not for its massive size, there wasn't much difference between this pirate ship and a sailboat. It floated slowly with the currents, shifting directions with the wind and water.

The captain was in his thirties: white skin, well-managed figure, but rather short compared to his crew. He was quite reticent. The crew hardly ever heard him shout or condescendingly command anyone. Occasionally he went up to the deck, standing next to the rudder, but he never operated it. Once he was seen playing with a delicate dagger with his smooth hands when a female sailor delivered food to his room, where he spent most of his time. Also in the room was a big map. It mapped out all the hidden treasures and sunken ships. But besides the captain, no one had seen it. Smart crew members were aware of its existence. How else could one explain why were they always heading to the correct destination, where wealth lay?

In the morning, a small island appeared in sight. Without anybody shouting what was found, the ship naturally sailed toward it. As they approached, they were able to see the debris of a ship. The captain ordered to anchor near it. When all was done, he carried the dagger in the sheath around his waist and stepped down the ship, summoning his crew: "Follow me." Then the captain walked straight into the thick woods. The crew all disappeared into the dark forest after him. Inside such a mass of woods, their vision was almost zero. There was nothing but trees and ferns as tall as man, spreading all over the ground.

Surprisingly, on the morning of the second day, carriages full of gold, silver, and jewelry were delivered to the ship. There was already so much fortune in the cargo hold that it almost poured out when the pirates tried to add their new discovery into it.

Just as they were going to set sail again, they saw a woman in the ocean, clinging to a piece of wood, yelling for help. She desperately asked them to receive her. The sailors were hesitant. The blood-red sunlight glowed on the canvas like an omen. However, the captain said "yes."

This "yes" saved my life. That's when I came aboard.

In the first few days, I was the only one who asked questions. Most of them didn't speak much. They chatted about the ship, each other, food, work, and nothing else. I knew about the process of the “forest adventure”, though: they found a group of people who had died a long time ago. Their bodies were found with bags containing not food or water, but gold and silver. Besides that, they rarely told me anything, especially when it came to questions concerning the captain. "If you want to know, ask him the next time you bring him his meal."

So I did.

"What's your name, captain?"

"Just call me captain."

"Where is this ship going? When will the journey finish?"

"Treasures. When we found the most precious one."

"So are you saying we have no direction? How do you locate the treasures then, by guessing?"

"By the map."

He pointed at the map in his room. It openly spread on the table and the dagger was stuck in where the red "X" was. "Our next destination."

"When will it end?"

He didn't answer.

I wanted to say all I wanted was to go home, but I was well aware that I wasn't qualified to demand anything. I was already surprised that he told me this much. However, it did not provide me any relief; in contrast, it caused me more anxiety.

To relax, I went to the deck to the rudder. I was comforted when I held it in my hands until I noticed that it was fixed, solidly fixed. No matter how hard I tried, it didn't shake even a bit. So I sat down and glared at the stars randomly scattered in the sky. I couldn't see the Big Dipper.

The fixed rudder did not stop the ship from arriving at another treasure island. The whole process seemed to have been practiced a hundred times. I thought it was just a standard operation.

To my surprise, a tremendous howling burst out when the last carriage was unloaded—by far the loudest voice since I came aboard. It was the captain. He roared, bellowed, growled with his face painfully twisted and distorted. Nobody knew what was happening. We all stared at him in shock.

"It's all over," he said. "This is the last ‘X’ on the map. The most precious treasure does not exist."

"Are we heading home, captain?" I asked. Others remained silent, but also stared at the captain, waiting for a response.

After a long period of silence, he spoke: "No. We drift."

"Because the rudder is fixed so we cannot choose our direction?"

"We can. There just isn't home on the map."

I turned around to see the reaction of the crew. One pirate slightly nodded. The captain’s statement didn't provoke any different opinions or discord among the pirates. It made me wonder if they were alive or not, while I was frightened by their silence too.

Once again, we started drifting and floating.

Compared to the wide ocean, the ship barely moved. It was just a small white dot on a vast blue canvas. The captain stopped sticking his dagger onto the map since there were no more "X"s. He sat in his dormitory most of the time, doing nothing but vacantly staring at the map. The ship was so quiet as if it was equipped with a silencer.

Until one night, the silence was broken by thunder. The lightning ignited the sky, and the thunder woke the sailors. The captain was still in his small, isolated room. A bolt of thick lightning stroked the ship, snapping off the two masts, which fell and crossed one over the other on the deck. The waves grew and the wind began to blow. We were thrown off-balance and fell chaotically onto the deck. We raced down to the hull and saw water had already entered, rising over our knees. We rushed to scoop up the water and repair the breaches. I was so panicked that I only have a blurred memory of restlessly ladling out the water.

The captain was still meticulously investigating the map when the lightning struck. The shock threw him against the wall; he struck his head and fainted. When the storm finally passed, he became conscious. He found himself firmly holding the dagger in his right hand. What's more, he sensed a severe pain in his left wrist.

That's when we came into his room to check on him. I am still shocked even now, by what I saw at the moment: on his wrist, there was a conspicuous red burn wound, distinctively marked in the shape of "X".