As the crew circled the fallen Wereshark, their initial astonishment shifted to awe at Marcellus's feat. With the sun lazily inching its way up, they held lanterns aloft, casting an eerie glow on the creature while diving deep into contemplative conversation.
They dragged the beast from deep below the ship onto the deck.
In the dim pre-dawn light, the crew's silhouette danced around the vanquished Wereshark.
Marcellus's prowess became the stuff of immediate gossip among them. The lanterns' flames flickered, casting shadows that played on the creature's form.
The slow ascent of the sun was no match for the crew's need for light, making the lanterns essential for their animated discussions.
Marcellus's ears caught some of the murmurs around him.
'He looks like he hasn't seen his fourth birthday.'
'Which Church does he hail from? Combat or Storms?'
'Why did the captain sideline him till now? I always spotted him napping below deck.'
Marcellus's lips curled upwards at that comment.
'It's unheard of – a solo takedown of a Wereshark that massive. Normally it's a job for a score of men.'
'The captain surely knew something. Why else keep such a weapon hidden?'
'Do you think he's been on other ships? Is he a real pirate?'
'Mark my words, This's going to be a legendary story.'
He looked at the person who had just said that, It was Noah. He did not understand what Noah meant by 'legendary'.
When Marcellus first encountered Noah, the burly privateer had put on an air of arrogance and aloofness, acting as if he knew it all.
His words had been "I have seen my fair share of battle in these waters..."
He frequently spoke about the empires, often admonishing the captain's intelligence with his words. For someone who seemed so deeply rooted in the world of privateering-pirates, it was quite a surprise for Marcellus to hear such a seasoned sailor label him "legendary."
Marcellus's finger grew cold, is it that surprising for me to make it back alive or for me to kill the creature? did you all not consider the possibility of me succeeding?
In the captain's cabin.
Master Dobbs, who had seen his fair share of battles and faced many formidable foes, leaned in closer. "It wasn't luck, Captain. Looking at the depth of these wounds," he pointed to the sabre slashes on the Wereshark's body.
"These strikes were deliberate and calculated. Marcellus knew where to hit, how to wound, and how to finish it off."
Captain Crowe nodded in agreement, his admiration for Marcellus growing with each passing moment. "Aye, it's not luck that brought us this victory. It's skill, pure and simple. However, it is luck that brought us Our Blackeyed."
"Our Blackeyed displayed a level of swordsmanship I've rarely seen."
Tommy chimed in, his voice filled with pride. "How hard must he have swung? what strength?"
Hawkins silently nodded.
All the who is who in the crew was in here holding a discussion how to proceed.
The crew members nodded in agreement, their initial disbelief giving way to a newfound respect for Marcellus. They marvelled at the young man's bravery and skill, realizing that his actions had saved them all from a grisly fate.
In that dimly lit space below deck, amidst the lingering scent of battle, they had found something they had not dared to hope for — a hero among them, and the confirmation that even the most monstrous of threats could be vanquished.
…
Within two hours of sunrise, the ship was alive with motion.
Pirates moved briskly, each engaged in their routine duties. Sailors scaled the rigging, adjusting sails to harness the wind's power.
Navigators which was solely Captain Crowe pored over charts, setting a safe course through perilous waters.
Deckhands scoured the ship's planks, erasing traces of the night's escapades.
Cannoneers maintained their artillery, ensuring readiness for unforeseen battles.
Lookouts in the crow's nest vigilantly surveyed the vast expanse, alert for ships or looming threats.
Some like Randy cast their fishing line, hoping for a fresh catch to add to the day's meal.
Nearby, crew members checked supplies, ensuring they had enough for the journey. Even Marco was preoccupied with tasks.
Yet amidst this hive of activity, Marcellus lay idle, lounging on plush cushions, lost in thought. No longer tasked as the ship's cook, he enjoyed a unique status; a valued guest, relieved of the day-to-day obligations that kept the vessel afloat.
Marcellus grappled with the ambivalence of his new role.
The very same corridors he once walked as an equal now felt different.
The casual banter he enjoyed with some crew members had shifted. Hushed conversations would cease as he approached, replaced with wary glances or nods of respect.
This change, whether borne out of fear or reverence, left Marcellus in a perplexing limbo, longing for the days of simple camaraderie.
Lost in his thoughts, he pondered, Will we ever encounter the famed treasure galleon?
The passage of days at sea had become a blur. Seeking a distraction, he engrossed himself in a book, reading until dusk.
Although the Wereshark broke the boredom, Marcellus was no seaman, he longed for land.
…
In the evening, as Marcellus sat alone on the deck, gazing at the star-studded sky, First Mate Hawkins approached him.
The two had shared many a laugh and tale in the past. "It's strange, isn't it?" Hawkins began, taking a seat beside him. "One moment you're one of the lads, and the next, you're almost...royalty."
Marcellus sighed, "I never asked for this. I miss the days when we could jest without a care, without this...barrier."
Hawkins nodded, understandingly. "It's the nature of men, especially pirates. They see something extraordinary, something that challenges their understanding, and they react. Give it time. They'll come around."
Marcellus looked at Hawkins, a hint of a smile forming. "I hope so. I'd trade all this 'royalty' for peace of mind.."
The two sat in shared silence, the weight of the unspoken filling the air, both hoping for a return to simpler times.
Their shared contemplation was abruptly interrupted by the ship's bell. Two pirates, one leaping from the foremast and the other descending the shroud, echoed a unified warning
"Sail oh!"
"Ship!"
The tranquillity of the moment shattered instantly. All around, the once-bustling ship snapped to high alert.
Pirates abandoned their tasks, rushing to their battle stations.
The relaxed atmosphere was replaced with a palpable tension, as every eye turned to the horizon, searching for the sighted vessel.
Captain Crowe emerged from his cabin, his gaze sharp and focused. "Positions, men! Ready the cannons!" he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Navigators scrambled to their charts, determining the best course of action, while gunners primed their weapons, ensuring they were battle-ready.
The distant silhouette of a ship began to take shape against the backdrop of the setting sun.
Marcellus caught up in the whirlwind of activity, found himself pushed to the side as crew members hustled about.
For a brief moment, the division between him and the crew vanished, replaced by a unified focus on the impending confrontation.
"Raise the colours!" Captain Crowe commanded.
The notorious pirate flag – a black backdrop with a white skull and crossbones – ascended, signalling both a warning and a challenge to the approaching vessel.
Marcellus was confused, everyone seemed to know what to do except him.
Captain Crowe had hinted earlier that they would encounter the treasure galleon today, a promise that had fueled their anticipation.
The crew had been eager for this day, knowing that it could mean riches beyond their wildest dreams.