Everyone below who could manage it ran up to see what had happened, tripping and shoving in the process, and not just on the stairs or in the cramped hallways.
"What be gitting yer knickers in a knot?" Cid asked Yuffie. It had been she who taught him the word ‘knickers,’ and he would chased her all over the ship until he gave up whenever she dared to use it.
Barret was in the process of getting off Cloud’s hand, who had tripped over Nanaki.
"Fell over," Yuffie said, now on deck and out of her perch. "BAM! Jus’ like that. I is jus’ a teasin’ 'im an’ he took the pendant and goes right thud. You dun think I is killed him, is ya?"
"He ain’t opened it!" Cid said, looking at the pendant, which was closed in Vincent’s gloved hand.
"He is too opened it!" Yuffie said. "I heard it!"
"Must’ve closed when he hit the deck," Cid said, poking at the pendant.
As his finger touched it, the pendant flicked open and suddenly all the stars, on both the ship and the sky dimmed, leaving them in blackness.
The rocking of the ship changed from it’s rhythmic, steady movement to turbulent and slightly more violent, something a ship that could not control it’s own wind would feel.
A ship that they found themselves standing on the deck of came into view, but it was not theirs. It was an older ship, with a younger Vincent dressed just the same, save for his hat, sporting a wide brim and several feathers.
They saw the standing Vincent prove himself a dream, one shared by them all, as he walked right through his later and paler self. This one had a far different spirit, walking causally and almost haughtily, as well as having a far more defined color to his skin.
"He be right!" Barret exclaimed. "Be black magic!"
"Hush!" Tifa said, as she clung to Cloud, who clung to Barret.
Vincent greeted two people none of them had ever seen: A man with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, a few bangs escaping from the confines and playfully draping themselves over his face; and a woman, glowing in golden Italian beauty and cheerful anticipation.
"Huh," Vincent said. "You actually showed."
"Of course we did," the man said. "I am not stupid to backstab one such as you."
"Some are daring and some are cowardly," Vincent said, taking a book from the man and flipping though it while holding it upside-down. "Either way, there are those who try to sell me to the gallows. I thought you might have been too scared and runned off. You save me a lot of trouble."
"Trouble? Give that back!" the man exclaimed as the woman next to him giggled.
"I don’t have to hunt you down and kill you," Vincent said, tossing the book back. "What was your name, I did not catch it?"
"I told you, my name is Erik Hojo. I already paid you; I intend this journey to be without any glitches."
"I am not good with names. First I recognize the face in case I have to slit the owner’s throat," Vincent said.
"Enough threats. Can we board?" Erik asked.
"Of course, though I find it odd that you would ask one such as me for your passage."
"I needed one who would have no qualms against what I do as long as I gave you your money. No charter ship or fishing boat would hold me sane, let alone assist me."
"True, I care not for sanity," Vincent said. " I hold only two loyalties. One to my life and living it, the other to gold."
"I too hold only two loyalties," Erik said. "To science and to my wife. Come along." He walked on board carrying his overstuffed bags and headed for the cabins, the woman followed, carrying her own bags.
"Your wife?" Vincent asked. "The crew will be disappointed you won’t share."
The scene changed. It was the same boat, the same Vincent and the same woman.
Erik was consulting a book and a compass, going from one to the other so fast that he seemed to be attempting to consult them both simultaneously.
Vincent was peering over his shoulder in confusion.
"I could read better, without your face in the way," Erik said.
Seeing he was not wanted and only making trouble, Vincent left, only to stop as he spied Erik’s wife. She had pinned a number of old and weathered maps to the mast, all of them with misshapen continents and pictures of sea creatures, most spouting fire or steam.
Seeing her entranced with yet more writing, Vincent found something far more interesting. Her skirts were blowing in the strong wind and she was leaning so far forward, he was given a more than adequate view of her legs.
He leaned forward for a better look, continuing to lean forward until his hat fell off his head and landed on the deck.
"And if I get a look up your trousers, would the view be just as good?" she asked, not turning away from her maps and her instruments.
At that, Vincent lost his concentration and his balance, landing on the deck and his face. He angrily scooped up his hat and stormed off, the woman ignoring him and Erik looking back at him in confusion.
Cid jabbed Yuffie in the ribs when she giggled.
The scene changed again. Erik was absent and the woman was sitting on the railing, ignoring Vincent as he leaned against the mast drinking from a rum bottle.
"If you keep watching up my skirt, I shall start wearing my husband’s trousers."
"If it be trousers you want, lady, I have some—"
"No."
"I meant to wear, Lady."
"My name is Lucretia. I am married. If you even dare get up I shall scream and my husband will come running."
"And do what? Throw a book at me?" Vincent asked, accepting the challenge and standing up. He stalked over to her and leaned over her, putting his hands on either side of the railing she sat on.
"You are not the one paying me, Lucretia. I will be as crass as I wish for I am captain of this ship. I will not stalk you or ravage you as you seem to think I will, tough I warn you not to insult the master of his ship, for if I find my life better lived without you, I will not hesitate to make such an advantageous change. I may pillage, but I do not rape. It is beneath me. I merely take whatever view that presents itself, whether it be of land or of leg. Now, the sea, though one such as I can fall in love with such fickle and untamable wench such as she, can get rather boring. Your husband manages to be just as boring, and the rest of my crew are either asleep or drunk thanks to your course driving us straight into the doldrums. I do not watch you because I am an uncouth lech, but because there is nothing better to stare at. You can either enjoy this fact or not, it is up to you; but remember two things: one, I am the captain and you had better have a damn fine reason for insulting me and an even better way to escape me; two, we lack wind have lacked it for a week now. If we find ourselves to lack food, we be eating you and your husband first."
The scene changed yet again, this time far more drastically. It was again nearly pitch black, save for the flashes of lightning, which happened often.
Vincent was yelling orders at his crew. His jupe was gone, as were his boots, hat and cape. He was wrestling with a disobedient rope, frantically trying to get the sail to raise and not to lose his grip in the heavy rain.
Erik was below the mast, yelling at him, but his voice was drowned out by the rain, wind, and thunder.
Finally, as Vincent raised the tattered sail, there was the tiniest of lulls in the storm and he heard Erik calling to him.
"Raise the net!" Erik yelled. "Raise it and the skies will clear!"
"You be an odd scientist to say a fish will cure a storm!" Vincent yelled, but nonetheless leapt to the rope, strung on gears and pulleys, while Erik pulled below.
The rope would not budge at all, no matter how hard either strained.
"Stay back!" Vincent yelled as the crew began to mill around them. They fearfully complied and backed away. "It is stuck on this gear!"
Everything went too dark to see for a number of minutes, then lightning flashed, the thunder drowning out Vincent screaming, but the light revealing him having lost this wrestling match with the rope. It had wrapped around his foot and he could not free himself.
One of the crew yelled something.
Vincent lost his hold on the rope and fell backwards, momentarily held by the rope around his ankle, even as it pulled the bone from its socket.
Not only did the pulley begin to break away from the wood of the mast it was nailed to, but while he had been getting himself stuck, Erik had threaded the rope through the steering wheel and tied it, now pulling with all his strength to turn it
The view he must have seen, dangling down and staring at such an angle at the sky must have been surreal, terrifying and fantastic, the crew realized.
Lightning hit the mast, striking at the flagpole and Vincent screamed, as he was nearly in the center of the flash of light and sparks.
The mast came down and the rope came down faster, finally loose on the pulley, dragging a screaming captain with it. The crew scattered.
They were quicker than Erik, who seemed stuck on the deck as Vincent went barreling towards him, just barely ahead of the mast.
Vincent’s elbow met with Erik’s chest, but too late.
Lightning flashed again, this time off in the distance.
The fire was out from the rain before it had started.
Erik was silent, pinned under the mast by his left leg and unconscious. Vincent lay crumpled and screaming a few feet away, the rope still around his foot, then coughed and fainted as the rain stopped and the clouds departed, soon revealing twinkling stars and a clear sky.
As the scene began to fade, the crew, twenty years after the dream had been real, gasped at the monstrosity in the net.