Year: 1719
Location: The Caribbean, Earth
On a day like any other, Blackbeard sat at the prow of the Queen Anne's Revenge, his imposing figure silhouetted against the horizon.
The wind toyed with the dark braids of his infamous beard, while his crew, carefree and unruly, went about their tasks: some played cards, others gnawed on dried meat or emptied bottles of rum with mocking laughter.
Suddenly, a shout shattered the calm from the top of the mast:
—"Sail ho! Galeón spotted!"
Blackbeard sprang to his feet, his boots thundered against the deck.
His dark eyes locked on the distant ship as he barked his first order, his authoritative voice slicing through the salt-laden air:
—"Hoist the black flag and unfurl the mainsail!"
The ship erupted into action. Men scurried like ants, raising sails and securing ropes, while the vessel, like a stalking predator, gained speed, slicing through the waves.
Blackbeard spat a wad of chewed tobacco onto the deck and turned to the helmsman:
—"Helm to larboard! Steady as she goes!"
The ship veered smoothly, aligning itself with its prey.
Blackbeard's steely gaze monitored every move, his face as unyielding as stone, as his crew loaded the cannons with grapeshot.
When the enemy ship was within range, his voice boomed like a storm:
—"Aim for their sails and masts! Let's cripple her!"
The cannons roared in unison, filling the air with smoke and splinters. The sails of the Spanish galleon tore like parchment, leaving it adrift. Wasting no time, Blackbeard drew his cutlass and bellowed:
—"Board her, lads! Take what's ours!"
The pirates swarmed the galleon like a dark tide. The crew of the galleon froze at the sight of the dreaded black flag; they knew what it meant—death had come for them.
An officer, clad in a pristine white uniform adorned with medals, tried to rally his men.
—"Prepare to fight! Stand your ground!" —he cried, but his trembling voice betrayed his fear.
Before they could react, another volley from the cannons rocked the ship. The deck shuddered under their feet as shards of wood rained down.
Sixteen pirates formed a firing line and unleashed a coordinated musket volley. Twelve soldiers fell instantly, and the survivors reeled under the relentless onslaught of saber-wielding pirates.
As chaos consumed the deck, Blackbeard led a select group into the ship's interior.
Sheathing his cutlass, he drew a butcher's hook, its rusted blade glinting ominously in the dim light. Behind him, a former British slave—now a loyal pirate—followed silently.
They prowled through the narrow corridors, cutting down any cabin boy or sailor who dared cross their path. At last, they reached the captain's quarters.
Blackbeard raised his cutlass high and struck the door with brutal force, splintering it.
Inside, the cabin was empty. An open window betrayed the captain's cowardly escape.
Even so, the room brimmed with riches: a carved desk, maps hanging on the walls, and three chests. Two large ones rested on the floor, while a smaller chest sat atop the desk.
Blackbeard gestured toward his men. Four of them hefted the large chests while he claimed the smaller one. Before leaving, he barked:
—"Take every provision and trinket of value from this ship!"
His crew nodded, scattering to obey. With their spoils secured, Blackbeard and his group returned to the deck, where the slaughter had ended.
The scene was grim. Blood and bodies stained the deck, but the pirates had emerged victorious, with minimal losses. One man approached Blackbeard, panting.
—"Cap'n, it's done. We lost fifteen men."
Blackbeard nodded solemnly.
—"Tend to the wounded. Those still able, strip this ship of everything worth taking."
With the loot and provisions loaded, they returned to the Queen Anne's Revenge. Blackbeard settled at the great table in the main cabin, flanked by the large chests.
The first chest held coins of gold and silver, along with glittering jewels. The second contained maps detailing the routes of ships laden with slaves, minerals, and valuable goods.
Finally, he opened the small chest. Inside lay an aged parchment. As he unfolded it, he read aloud, his voice low:
"Do you seek another chance at adventure? If so, sign this parchment with your blood, and your crew shall do the same."
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. Without hesitation, Blackbeard drew a small knife from his coat, nicked his finger, and signed. Then, he looked up at his men:
—"Those of ye willing to follow me on this new venture, step forth and sign with yer blood."
One by one, the pirates came forward to sign, their faces alight with excitement and hope.
They had made a pact, though none yet understood its cost.
That night, the ship exploded with celebration. They laughed, sang, and drank deep, knowing each day in this life was precious—and that something far greater was on the horizon.