After a brief pause, the man spoke with a tone of remorse and determination. His words resonated through the room, capturing the crew's undivided focus.
"I'm sorry, for the short hauls, for the trouble I've caused, but most importantly, for the disregard it seems I've shown you," he spoke with a hint of remorse in his voice. "The most crucial element of a healthy ship is trust, trust between men, trust between captain and crew, without it, a ship is doomed."
Pausing for a moment, his eyes scanning the gathered faces, he continued, his tone now filled with determination. "For the past few months, you and I have been on the trail of a prize so extraordinary, so immensely valuable that it has the potential to reshape the very fabric of your lives. It was because of this monumental significance that I chose to keep it secret, for I didn't fully trust you all, and that was my mistake."
He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. "Right now, I want to share with you that the prize is within our grasp. We are close, so close. But it has come to my attention that my concerns about secrecy were justified. Someone among us discovered my plans, stole the vital page from this log, and seized it for their own selfish gain."
His voice resonated with a mix of frustration and disappointment. "They stole it from us, your fellow crewmates, and not only that, but they also fueled your resentment, manipulating the situation to make themselves your captain." At this point, his gaze sharpened, focusing on a bald-headed man with a strong physique. This man, known as Singleton, had become the centre of attention and scrutiny.
Singleton's words cut through the tense air, his voice filled with defiance and a hint of arrogance. "What? I don't know what he's talking about."
Dobbs, the quartermaster, stepped forward, his expression stern and determined. The weight of the situation hung heavily as both men stood their ground.
"That's a very serious accusation, Captain," Dobbs declared, his voice firm. "Thievery is punishable by death. As is a false accusation of the same."
The room remained silent, the crew holding their breath, awaiting the captain's response. The tension escalated as Dobbs continued, his tone heavy with resignation. "Then, as per the articles, the accused has a choice. He can submit to a trial."
Singleton's sneer remained firmly in place as he retorted, "With who as judge? You? No."
His defiance was met with an unwavering resolve from Dobbs. "Then swords," he whispered to the captain.
A wicked smirk formed on Singleton's face, a twisted satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Perhaps it's better this way," he taunted. "Be rid of you once and for all."
Marcel watched the exchange with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.
The stakes had been raised, with mere words.
Dobbs solemnly handed Captain Crowe and Singleton their respective pirate swords, their eyes locked in a deadly stare. The room grew eerily quiet as the crew formed a circle around the combatants, anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy fog.
With a swift motion, Captain Crowe swung his sword as if testing the flexibility in his arm, his movements were fluid, betraying years of experience and mastery. In contrast, Singleton wielded his sword with raw, primal aggression, his muscles tense and ready for battle.
With that, they took their stance both swords tips pointing at each other. Singleton was the first to attack with a ferocious roar, he swung at the man's head but the man blocked and took a step back. He followed with another swing which was blocked immediately halfway before the man swung back at which Singleton parried and hit the man with a punch and a knee to the gut which made the crew laugh loaded.
As the clash of steel rang out, the fight exploded into a frenzy of slashes, parries, and deadly lunges.
Amidst the chaos, Singleton managed to land a powerful kick, sending Captain Crowe stumbling. Seizing the opportunity, Singleton's sword found its mark, slicing into the flesh of his opponent's forearm, drawing a spray of blood that mingled with the intensity of the battle.
Though momentarily wounded, the man refused to yield. With unwavering resolve, he retaliated with a swift dodge, causing Singleton's sword to become lodged in the unforgiving wood of a nearby cannon. The damaged sword was rendered useless, and the tides of the fight began to shift.
Singleton, recognizing the impending threat, discarded his sword and relied on his own brute strength. He delivered a forceful punch to Captain Crowe's face, momentarily disorienting him. The captain struggled to regain his bearings, but Singleton's advantage seemed insurmountable.
The man struggled to get up and when he did he swung at Singleton again but his orientation was off, he had not fully recovered from the punch, so Singleton easily caught his hand and took his sword from him simultaneously punching him to the floor.
He sat above the man and stabbed the sword at his face, The man quickly caught the sword, his left hand holding the blade of the sword, his right holding the man's arm.
In that moment there was a brief contest of strength between Singleton and the man, as blood from his left palm dripped down the sword onto his face the man decided to deflect the force instead of blocking it.
The sword stabbed the floor.
With the stab of the sword, the pirate seemed to grow louder.
As the sword stabbed the floor the captain without missing a moment, In a swift unforeseen move, the man seized a nearby cannonball, using it as a makeshift weapon. With a sickening thud, he brought it crashing against Singleton's head, causing blood to spray through the air in a gruesome display.
Thwack!
He bashed it, Blood sprayed through the air.
Singleton crumpled to the ground, his strength waning. Seizing the opportunity, the man, fueled by both vengeance and survival, crawled over Singleton's prone form, With a determined grit in his eyes, he crawled over Singleton's prone form, his fists descending upon him with relentless force. The wet, squishy sounds of impact filled the air, drowning out the cheers that had once accompanied the fight.
Then there was a punch to Singleton's temple, and then there was another and another.
Punches rained down upon Singleton's defenseless frame.
Each blow came faster than the last, the intervals between them diminishing with every strike. With each punch, the cheers became quieter until there was only silence and the grunt of the man punching with a wet-sounding thud.
The onlookers were gradually silenced, their voices muted by the escalating brutality of the assault. The air thickened with heavy tension, and the room seemed to hold its breath. The only sound that remained was the primal grunt of Captain Crowe as he unleashed blow after blow, each landing with a sickening wet thud.
In the midst of the relentless pummeling, a deafening silence enveloped the room. The cheers had faded into oblivion, replaced by an eerie stillness that bore witness to the savage culmination of the fight.
As the final punch struck Singleton's temples, the once vibrant man crumpled under the weight of Captain Crowe's fury. No sound escaped his lips, only the muted echoes of the impact reverberated in the chamber. The wet, sickening thud served as a chilling testament to the depth of the violence that had unfolded.
In that haunting silence, Captain Crowe lingered above Singleton's motionless form, his breath heavy and laboured.
"I am 'CAPTAIN' fucking Crowe," He muttered.
Marcel's heart pounded in his chest as he witnessed the violent conclusion of the duel. The reality of the pirate life had been laid bare before him, its brutality and unforgiving nature etched into his mind.
The pirate wasn't that skilled at combat in his eyes.
They mastered violence.