The lifeless body of Captain Roarke lay on the deck of the Windward, his blood slowly spreading beneath the feet of the crew, still in shock. Alistair stood frozen, his breath short, the metallic scent of blood filling the air around him. The cries of pirates and wounded sailors echoed around him, yet he felt strangely distant, like a spectator to this macabre scene. The man who had dictated his life for four years was now nothing more than a lifeless shell on the worn wood of the deck.
"Alistair, move!" shouted Jack Murdock, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the melee. The old boatswain was covered in sweat and blood, his sharp eyes still watchful. "They're taking the ship; there's nothing we can do. We have to survive."
Alistair nodded, still in shock from Roarke's death. Despite all the hatred he had accumulated against him, he never imagined his end would come like this, in a chaos where life and death blended indistinguishably.
The pirates had already overrun the Windward. They were more numerous, better armed, and above all, merciless. Every man on deck knew that the slightest resistance would mean a swift death, and the sailors surrendered without much struggle, some even throwing down their weapons in the hope of being spared.
The leader of the pirates appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the quarterdeck, his imposing figure contrasting with the turmoil around him. He was a tall man, with a long black beard braided and eyes as sharp as a hawk's. He wore a worn coat, stained with salt and blood, and his boots hammered the deck with terrifying confidence.
"Captain Valgard!" one of the pirates shouted, saluting him with a brisk gesture.
Alistair didn't recognize the name, but from the way the crew cautiously moved away from the man, he immediately understood that he was not to be taken lightly. This Valgard seemed straight out of legend. He moved with natural authority, as if every movement was calculated, without haste. He slowly descended the steps, his eyes scanning the terrified sailors who tried to shrink before his imposing presence.
"So, gentlemen..." Valgard said in a rough but clear voice. "You have a choice: join my crew... or join your dear captains at the bottom of the sea." He cast a quick glance toward Roarke's corpse, as if the man's death had been a mere triviality.
Alistair felt a chill run down his spine. The pirates left no escape. The only option for survival was to follow their rules, at least for now. But would he accept becoming one of them? The idea still seemed inconceivable to him.
Jack, standing by his side, shot a quick glance at Alistair. "Stay calm, kid. If you want to live, you have to take their offer for now."
Alistair nodded slowly. The instinct for survival was taking over morality.
Valgard approached, his gaze passing over each man of the Windward. When he stopped in front of Alistair, he paused for a moment, his eyes locking with the young man's. He seemed to be assessing something, looking for a spark in his eyes.
"You there," he said, pointing at Alistair. "What's your name?"
"Alistair Hargrove," he replied, his voice dry. He forced himself to meet the pirate's piercing gaze, despite the weight of fear twisting his stomach.
Valgard smiled faintly. "You've got fire in your eyes, Hargrove. I wonder how long it'll last on my ship."
He turned away, moving on to the next crew member, as the Windward crew was gathered in small groups. The pirates clearly had no intention of killing them all, but the tension remained palpable. Alistair could see the terror in Pip's eyes, the young cabin boy crouching behind barrels, hoping not to be seen.
"You too, kid," Valgard said, pointing at Pip. "Come here."
Pip, trembling all over, reluctantly stepped forward, casting panicked looks at Alistair. "Please... I don't know how to fight..." he stammered.
Valgard burst out laughing, a heavy, mocking laugh that echoed in the tense silence. "Don't worry, boy, you'll learn fast... or you'll die even faster."
Alistair felt anger rise within him. These men had no mercy, no regard for human life. He wanted to fight them, to resist. But he knew he wasn't in a position to do so. Not yet.
The hours following the attack felt like a waking nightmare. The crew of the Windward had been forced to clean up the battle debris, removing the bodies—both friends and foes—and throwing them overboard. It was a degrading task, and Alistair couldn't help but feel deep sadness as he watched some of the sailors he had shared years with end up swallowed by the sea.
Jack Murdock remained silent, his gaze distant, lost in thought. He knew the situation was critical. They were now prisoners of this pirate captain, Valgard, and his ruthless crew. Alistair wondered if Jack's loyalty to Roarke, despite his flaws, would prevent him from joining the pirates. But Jack seemed to have made his choice: survival first, moral questions later.
As for Mary O'Sullivan, she had shown surprising calm. Though shaken by the brutality of the events, she had kept her composure and made sure that those still alive had something to eat and drink. Alistair was impressed by her resilience.
"Do you think they're going to make us all join their crew?" she asked Alistair as they finished moving the last bodies.
"I don't know," he replied. "But I'd prefer that to dying here."
Mary nodded, her expression hardening. "They want men who can survive, not cowards. If we have to play their game for now, we better do it smartly."
Alistair understood what she meant. Pirates respected only strength and intelligence. He had to prove his worth, or he would end up like those he had just thrown into the sea.
As the evening fell and the sun dipped below the horizon, Valgard gathered the entire crew of the Windward on the main deck, where Captain Roarke had met his end earlier. The pirates surrounded the sailors, and the air was thick with tension.
"You've all seen what happens to those who resist," Valgard said in a calm but commanding voice. "But I am not a heartless man. Those of you who prove your worth aboard my ship will be treated as free men. Those who fail..." He left the sentence hanging, but everyone understood.
He slowly approached Alistair. "You, Hargrove. I see something in you. A spark, maybe. But I never trust first impressions. You want to survive here? Then you'll have to prove your loyalty to my crew."
Alistair gritted his teeth. This moment marked a turning point in his life. He hadn't chosen this path, but he had no choice but to follow it for now.