Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story as of yet. Not sure about later in the story. As for now, I wish I did own them because I'd be really rich. But I guess a person can only dream. lol

Author's note: Yes, the pologue isn't going to make any sense, and it won't until the last chapter. It's my way of making you read the whole story [evil laughter entered here]. Or at least making you read the first and last chapter. Enough of my blabber and onto the story. Enjoy!

PROLOGUE

    "Ashton! You're damn nuts Ashton, get back here before you're lost or killed," his crew mates shouted out to his disappearing form in the rowboat he had descended into.
    Their shouts were of no use for he was too content on killing the bastard that had ripped his father from raising him. His youth was full of confusion on the day the news of his father's death had been brought to their quaint little home just out of town. He was too young to understand the grief in it, but he was also too young to understand why his father wouldn't be returning in the few months like he promised. When his father's return day had come, he had awakened early that day to run down to the docks and wait. Little did he know he'd be waiting all day and his father wouldn't show up to his greeting. Feeling forlorn, he returned to his home, only to return the next day for two weeks.
    His frustration slowly disappeared as the years went on, but he still hadn't understood why his father never returned. Set on thinking that his father got lost, he ran away from his mother when he was seven. He had it all planned out, he would start off going into town and work his way from that. Set with his haversack full of food, a blanket, and a canteen of water he walked out of the house to the stables where he found his favorite horse. She was only three years old, and he had been there with his father when she was born. He didn't remember much from that day except for his father telling him that she was all his and him naming her. Saddling her up, he mounted on her and galloped out of the yard onto the dirt road into the direction of town.
    Every town he came upon he would enter stores, saloons, hotels, anywhere he could think of and ask if they had seen his father. Every answer was the same as the last, leaving him heartbroken and searching even more. Finally becoming frustrated and scared he returned back home to his worried mother after a week of useless search.
    On his thirteenth birthday his mother had taken his hand and led him to the little church graveyard. Pulling back some tall flowers that had started to grow in front of the gravestone, he read what was on it:
Gabriel Michael Ketchum
October 7, 1795 - ? 1820
Beloved husband to Delia Ketchum and father to Ashton Ketchum. Forever his remains last lost at sea, but his memory remains in all who loved and knew him.
"My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped." Psalm 17:5
    Then it all came back to him, the funeral with the empty casket, the people crying, the storm. There was a grave, a grave of nothing. His father wasn't in there and he would never be. The fish probably fed on his father's flesh and bones until there was nothing. He didn't realize that it was his voice that he heard cry out in anger and pain. His tears stinging his eyes as his mother embraced him and he clutched onto her arm.
    That was his final decision to seek out the whale boat and join, even if it meant cleaning the decks. He wanted to kill the bastard of a whale that had attacked his father's ship. The abhorrence was built beyond belief inside of him and he wasn't thinking logically, but he knew he wanted vengeance. Vengeance on what; he wasn't sure, he just hoped that one of the whales they killed was the one that had killed his father. His mother had tried to persuade him not to leave, but he just stalked out of the house and ran away from her. Her pleas bit at his soul, but he was already too far gone to turn around now.
    He had seen the whale, or what he thought was the whale that killed his father, late one night. And with ignorance, he lowered himself into one of the rowboats equipped only with a harpoon to kill it with. He had an unhealthy obsession, but he didn't realize it, even as his name was being shouted out by the other cabin boys.
    His breathing became shallow as he held up the lantern and looked into the dark sea waters that thrashed the feeble boat around. The beast had disappeared. But how? It started to rain as he panicked and looked for the whaling ship. He had gotten lost, his ignorance brought him to his fate at sea. And he paddled as hard as he could to where he thought the ship was, but he didn't prevail. That's when he cried, not from his lack of judgment, but for his mother. She probably wondered day and night if she would lose her son the same way she had lost her husband, and she was right.
    Her pleas rang through his head again and he realized then that he was going to suffer. He was getting punished for telling his mother to leave him alone and running off leaving her devastated. How was she going to take the news? Her son and only child had betrayed her. He felt like the worthless cretin that he was and he screamed out an apology that no one heard.
    He felt the pangs of hunger and dehydration increase as the evening sun came out from behind the storm clouds two days from when he got lost at sea. It's rays hit his flesh and added heat to the already humid air. The waves crashed onto the side of the boat taunting him like they knew that he needed freshwater to quench himself. Standing up shakily, he turned around in a circle to see if there was any land or boats near, but all it resulted in was him falling from the dizziness and hitting his head hard onto the edge of the boat.
    Cursing at himself and his fate, he rubbed the side of his head as he sat up and took up the oars. Where he was rowing to, he didn't know, he just hoped that it was in the direction where land was near. All he wanted to do was get home, and he would have cried if he hadn't been so exhausted from rowing all night long. He wasn't sure how long he'd have to survive, but he was pretty sure it was only a few more days, and that frightened him. He hadn't thought his life would end after seventeen years.
    As he tried to paddle harder, the oars slipped from his hands and he fell back in a dizziness. Exhaustion and dehydration taking over him as he slipped away. He would have thought it for the better to be passed out as he died, but his mind slowed and the thoughts never came to him.