"Fire!"
"Starboard side!"
The captain bellowed, and a sailor swiftly ignited the fuse of a cannon.
"They're shooting muskets!" shouted a random sailor. The captain peered through his spyglass once more, observing the approaching vessels with cannons aimed at them. The cannonball narrowly missed their ship, casting an ominous shadow over the captain.
"Bear up, damn it! You're falling short!" the captain bellowed.
"Bear up!" echoed someone, obeying the captain's command.
The man who had previously warned the captain pleaded once again, "Sir, they're out of our range."
Just as he uttered those words, a deafening bang rang out! It was unmistakably a cannonball. Instinctively, the captain and the man ducked down as it tore through the ship's sails.
The captain rose to his feet, visibly shaken. "All crews, fire your--"
Another thunderous shot interrupted him, ripping through the main deck and sending two sails flying into the water. "Get down!" the sailors yelled repeatedly as if it were a mantra.
A third resounding shot greeted them. Bang! The captain struggled to maintain his footing, but the man forcefully dragged him down.
...
The ship swayed uncontrollably from the assault as the cook and the intruder struggled to maintain their balance.
"You know who that is out there Captain Hold?" the cook leaned in. his voice filled with tension."
"Their ship flies the banner of Captain Crowe." As he spoke those words, another loud bang echoed through the ship as a cannonball made contact.
The intruder looked and the cook curiously "Isn't this your problem too?"
"Good cooks are short in supply, even for criminals" the cook replied boastfully. "But you, cowering below decks, avoiding the fight? They'll gut you for sport." He looked mockingly at the intruder.
Silence filled the air.
Above deck, the sound of cannons blasting intensified. Unfortunate events unfolded—a cannonball shattered the foremast, causing an unlucky soldier running nearby to become entangled in a rope, hoisted up, and left hanging high above.
The captain trembled at the chaos, the pleading man and the captain rose to their feet, but before they could react, a cannonball pierced the pleading man's gut, creating a large, gruesome hole where his belly used to be.
Another cannon made brutal contact with the ship, its deafening boom evidence of the diminishing distance between the vessels.
The ship swayed more violently, causing the intruder and the cook to lose their balance and fall onto the hardwood deck. Alongside them, a black book that the cook had hidden fell as well.
"Give me that!" the cook yelled, his voice filled with desperation, as he scrambled for the book. The intruder, stunned by the outburst, didn't move to retrieve it.
The cook quickly got up to his feet at the intruder looked warily at him.
"What is that?" The intruder asked.
"That nothing" the cook succinctly replied, shoving it back under his garments.
"That doesn't seem like nothing." the intruder retorted, a satisfied smirk playing on his face. The cook had been teasing him since they first met.
"Well, maybe when Captain Crowe gets here you can let him decide". the intruder threatened.
"you would not want to be doing that," The cook said in a shaky voice.
"No? why not" the intruder asked with a satisfied smirk on his face the cook had been teasing him since they met, it took a lot of courage for him not to hit him.
Instinctively the cook pulled out a cutlass from the stack and pointed it at the intruder.
"Oh," the intruder realized he had grossly underestimated the value of 'nothing.'
As the cook held the fencing sword menacingly, the intruder's smirk slowly faded, replaced by a newfound seriousness. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Alright, alright," the intruder said, his voice tinged with a mix of caution and respect. "No need for unnecessary confrontations. Keep your secrets"
Above deck, the air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder as muskets fired indiscriminately, claiming lives left and right.
"Fallback!" the captain's voice reverberated through the chaos.
"Fallback!" echoed the sailors, their voices filled with a mixture of fear and determination.
"Get up!"
"Get out of the way!"
The captain barked orders at the men, urging them to retreat to safety. As he made his way toward the captain's cabin, he encountered some of his men, standing warily with muskets in hand. Upon entering the cabin, he felt a sense of temporary respite as the ship stabilized.
Their ship had made contact with the pirate vessel, now standing side by side, and the cannons fell silent.
Peering out of a peephole, the captain instructed a sailor standing beside him, "Close us in."
The sailor looked out onto the deck and back at the captain. He witnessed some wounded sailors crawling toward the cabin, their agonized cries pleading for refuge. "Sir, wait, Mr Davis," the sailor called out.
The captain looked at him incredulously and rushed to close the door himself. He turned to his men and sternly stated, "Muskets at the ready."
No one echoed his words this time, as the sailors silently obeyed. In the heavy silence, the sound of muskets being primed and aimed filled the room.
Suddenly, an eerie stillness settled, so profound that one could hear a pin drop. But amidst the silence, the sailors could discern a faint scraping against the wooden door—something squirming, approaching slowly and stealthily, causing them to wince.
Then, a heavy thud echoed through the cabin door.
"Let me in, sir. Please, let me inside," a voice pleaded, and the sailors flinched.
"Please, let me inside."
"Move away from that door," the captain whispered, his voice filled with caution.
Through the peephole, the sailors caught a glimpse of who it was. "Sir, there may still be time," they tried to appeal to the captain. "It's Mr. Davis from the Dutch Trading Company (DTC)."
"Move away from that door," the captain repeated, his voice growing a bit louder.
"If you do not surrender now, Crowe will kill us all," a desperate sailor argued. A dagger found its way to the sailor's throat, the threat evident as they listened to the man beg for entry.
"Please, let me inside."
"Please, let me inside. Open the door," Mr Davis pleaded desperately.
"Open it," his voice was cut short by an axe that pierced his back. He groaned once more before succumbing to death. Meanwhile, the captain maintained the knife at the throat of the remaining sailor, his grip unyielding.
A creaking sound caught the captain's attention, and he turned to the peephole to look out. It was foggy outside—dense fog seemed to have descended upon them or, perhaps, they had unwittingly sailed into its shrouded embrace.
The captain strained his eyes, attempting to see through the veil of mist, but all he could discern was a murky void. Some sailors began to pray, their whispered pleas mingling with the mounting unease.
It was foggy outside it seemed the fog that loomed over them decided to descend or did they drive into the fog?
Then, a haunting howl pierced the air—a sound that, on land, could have been mistaken for a wolf. It held an eerie, otherworldly quality. Simultaneously, a tribalistic chant and the thunderous stomping of feet reached their ears.
The sailors exchanged fearful glances as the volume and pace of the chant intensified before abruptly ceasing altogether.
Through the peephole, the captain caught sight of a wooden barrel, rolling lazily toward the cabin door. It took a few agonizing moments, but eventually, the barrel landed by the door with a resounding thud. The sailors, including the captain, flinched in anticipation.
Several seconds passed, and to their bewilderment, nothing happened. Wearily, they exchanged wary glances, their relief at this anticlimactic turn of events short-lived.
Suddenly, a tremendous blast tore through the air—boom! The barrel exploded, sending shrapnel flying and shaking the ship to its core.