The ship began to turn, the sails billowing as they caught the wind. The pirates adjusted their course in response, their cannons coming into view.

"Fire on my command!" the captain ordered, positioning himself near the gun crews. The gunners stood ready, hands poised over the lanyards.

The two ships drew parallel, the air thick with tension. For a heartbeat, time seemed to halt—the world narrowing to the distance between the two vessels.

"Fire!"

The command ignited a flurry of activity. A deafening roar erupted as the cannons unleashed their fury. Smoke enveloped the deck, the acrid scent of gunpowder filling the air. Through the haze, the crew could hear wood splintering as their shot found its mark.

"Fire!"

"Starboard side!"

"Direct hit!" shouted one of the gunners.

But the pirates were quick to respond. A volley of cannon fire tore through the side of the ship, sending shards of wood and rigging flying. Men shouted in pain and alarm as the deck shuddered beneath them.

"Fire!"

Another cannon boomed, the recoil jolting the gunners backward.

"Damage report!" the captain yelled over the chaos.

"Port side's taken a hit! We've got breaches below deck!" came the reply.

"They're shooting muskets!" shouted a sailor. The captain peered through his spyglass once more, observing the approaching vessel with cannons aimed directly at them. A cannonball whistled past, narrowly missing their ship and casting an ominous shadow over the captain.

"Bear up, damn it! You're falling short!" the captain bellowed.

"Bear up!" echoed the helmsman, adjusting their course to obey the command.

The same crewman who had warned the captain earlier pleaded once again, "Sir, they're out of our range!"

Just as he spoke, a deafening bang rang out. Instinctively, the captain and the man ducked as a cannonball tore through the sails above them.

The captain rose to his feet, visibly shaken. "All crews, fire your—"

Another thunderous shot interrupted him, ripping through the main deck and sending shards of wood into the air. Two sails fluttered down into the water. "Get down!" the sailors yelled repeatedly, the words becoming a desperate mantra.

A third resounding shot greeted them. Bang!

The captain struggled to maintain his footing amidst the chaos, but the crewman forcefully dragged him down to safety. Around them, the battle raged on, the outcome growing more uncertain with each passing moment.

...

The ship lurched violently under the relentless barrage, timbers groaning like wounded beasts. The cook and the intruder staggered, grappling for anything to steady themselves as chaos enveloped them.

"Do you know who's out there?" the cook hissed, leaning close, his eyes flickering with a mix of fear and dark amusement.

The intruder met his gaze warily. "Isn't this your problem too?"

"They fly Captain Crowe's banner," the cook whispered, the name heavy as a death knell. As if summoned by the utterance, a thunderous crash shook the vessel—a cannonball smashing through the hull, spraying splinters like shrapnel.

The intruder's eyes widened. "Captain Crowe?" it was unclear whether there was confusion or fear in the intruders eyes, he had never heard of any Captain named Crowe.

"Good cooks are rare, even among thieves and cutthroats," the cook said with a smug grin. "They've likely heard of me; our ship is their prize. But you—a nobody skulking below decks? They'll gut you for sport before you can beg for mercy." His mocking gaze lingered.

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Silence thickened between them, broken only by distant screams and the roar of cannon fire. The intruder hadn't considered this—that his attempts at bargaining would mean nothing.

What manner of men kill for sport?

Pirates!

.........

......

...

Above deck, the cacophony of battle intensified. A cannonball obliterated the foremast, the towering structure collapsing like a felled giant. An unfortunate soldier, caught in the chaos, became ensnared in the rigging, hoisted skyward and left dangling like a grim pennant against the smoke-filled sky.

The captain stood amidst the turmoil, his face ashen beneath the grime. He and a pleading sailor struggled to their feet, but fate was merciless—a cannonball tore through the sailor's gut, leaving a gaping void where life once pulsed. The man's eyes glazed over as he crumpled.

Another blast rocked the ship, the proximity of their foe evident in the thunderous impact. The vessel heaved, sending the intruder and the cook sprawling onto the blood-slicked deck. A small black book tumbled from the cook's garments, sliding across the planks.

"Give me that!" the cook shouted, desperation cracking his voice as he scrambled after it. The intruder, stunned by the outburst, watched with newfound curiosity.

Rising unsteadily, the cook clutched the book to his chest. The intruder eyed him. "What is that?" he asked.

"It's nothing," the cook snapped, shoving it back beneath his tattered apron.

"Doesn't seem like nothing," the intruder retorted, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. The cook had taunted him since their first meeting; now the tables had turned.

"Perhaps when Captain Crowe boards, you can show it to him," the intruder mused, feigning nonchalance.

The cook's bravado faltered. "You wouldn't dare," he whispered, voice trembling.

"No? Why not?" the intruder pressed, savoring the cook's unease.

In a flash, the cook snatched a cutlass from a nearby rack, leveling the blade at the intruder's throat. Steel gleamed menacingly, and the smirk vanished from the intruder's face.

"Oh," he murmured, realizing he'd vastly underestimated the value of 'nothing.'

The cook's eyes burned with fierce intensity. The intruder raised his hands slowly. "Alright," he said carefully. "No need for this. Keep your secrets."

Above deck, the stench of gunpowder hung heavy as muskets spat fire and death. Men fell where they stood, the deck awash with blood.

"Fall back!" the captain's voice cut through the din—a command and a plea.

"Fall back!" echoed the sailors, faces etched with fear and defiance.

"Get up!"

"Out of the way!"

The captain rallied his men, urging them toward the meager sanctuary of the cabin. As he barreled through the chaos, wounded sailors clawed at his boots, their eyes glassy with pain. Ignoring them, he burst into the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

Their ship had locked with the pirate vessel, wooden hulls groaning as one. The cannons fell silent, replaced by the eerie creak of timbers and distant cries of the dying.

"Seal us in," the captain ordered a nearby sailor, his gaze fixed through a narrow slit in the wall.

"Sir, wait—Mr. Davis," the sailor implored, glancing back at a figure limping across the deck.

The captain's eyes hardened. Without hesitation, he barred the door himself. "Muskets at the ready," he commanded, voice devoid of mercy.

No one echoed him this time. In the suffocating silence, the clicks of priming weapons sounded like thunder.

An unnatural hush settled over the ship. The cacophony of battle faded, replaced by a creeping stillness that set nerves on edge. Then came a faint scratching at the door—a feeble, desperate sound.

"Let me in, sir. Please," a voice whimpered from the other side.

The sailors exchanged uneasy glances.

"Move away from the door," the captain whispered sharply.

"Sir, it's Mr. Davis from the Dutch Trading Company," one sailor pleaded. "There might still be time."

"I said, move away," the captain growled, his hand hovering near his pistol.

"If we don't surrender, Crowe will kill us all," another sailor argued, fear cracking his voice.

In a blur, the captain drew a dagger, pressing it against the dissenting sailor's throat. "Question me again, and you die before they board," he hissed.

Outside, the pleas grew frantic. "Please, let me in! Open the door!"

A sudden, wet thud silenced the voice—a gurgling choke, then the heavy slump of a body hitting the deck.

The captain peered through the slit, straining to see. Fog had swallowed the ship, tendrils curling like ghostly fingers around the masts. It was as if the sea itself conspired against them.

"Fog?" he muttered. "From where?"

The sailors began to murmur prayers, whispers mingling with the oppressive mist. Then, cutting through the silence, a haunting howl rose—a sound neither beast nor man. It sent a chill deep into their bones.

The rhythmic thump of footsteps echoed above, accompanied by a low, guttural chant. It swelled—a savage hymn that quickened the heartbeat and dried the mouth.

Abruptly, all fell silent. In the heavy quiet, the captain spotted movement—a lone barrel rolling toward their door, its path deliberate.

He held his breath as it came to rest against the threshold. Seconds stretched into eternity.

Nothing happened.

Exchanging wary glances, the sailors dared to hope.

Then—a blinding flash, a deafening explosion. The door shattered inward, the force throwing men like rag dolls. Shards of wood and iron sliced through flesh; screams filled the smoke-choked air.

The captain lay dazed amid the wreckage, ears ringing, vision blurred. Dark figures loomed above him, silhouettes against the infernal glow of the burning ship.

Captain Crowe's men had come.