I see dark, why is the floor moving. Screaming? From whom. Didn't I die? Maybe. He looked around, wooden platform with a desk in the middle, a small cabin! No, a wooden ship, in this day and age?
Near me was a group of people, from outside I could hear metal clashes, sword? And gunshot, no, more like cannon fire.
"Those pirates, how dare they attack us in safe waters!" An old man said
Pirate, he said. Guess I did die, on the battlefield of Finland. So let get this straight, in 1939, I was bombed by enemy forces, Died. And woke up in what could be the 17 century. What the fuck!.
After reminding himself of the grim history involving pirates, Thorson did not continue staying in the cabin. Judging by the direction of where the cannonball was from, he deduced he was still in the heat of a battle. Right now, the first thing he had to do was to leave this place. Who knew, a second cannonball might come crashing down on him, and he wouldn’t be so lucky this time.
Thorson quickly opened the door, only to bump into a sailor that was holding a box of ammunition. The navy sailor was still relatively young, looking to be in his teens. Fear and anxiety were written all over his face. Immediately, he got up and ran to the deck with the box in hand, not saying a single word to Thorson as he sprinted along.
Then, there was a whistle from afar!
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Another cannonball had been launched, landing right on the sailor’s chest! Thorson quickly ran over to check on him. Unfortunately, his lungs had collapsed; there was no way he would survive his severe injuries. Before he took in his last breath, he held on to Thorson’s hand, eyes filled with a strong reluctance to leave this world.
After going through the war in Finland, Thorson knew precisely how to deal with a situation like this. All he could do right now was repeatedly tell the man that he was going to be fine. Half a minute later, the young navy sailor passed away, his eyes still wide open. Thorson used his hand and closed them gently, then quickly ran to the deck with a box of ammunition. He needed to know what was going on right now. Right at that moment, a man from the upper deck looked down and saw Thorson.
The man was around 40 to 50 years old. His skin appeared tanned, and he seemed to have spent many years out at sea.
“I have told you guys repeatedly not to leave your cabins! This ship doesn’t have enough firepower! We can’t assign personnel to protect every one of you,” yelled the middle-aged man who appeared furious.
Thorson was relieved when he heard the man speaking English. He was worried that he might be on a Spanish or Portuguese vessel, and in times like these, things could get messy if he couldn’t communicate with them.
Turning around, he showed the middle-aged man the box of ammunition he had. The dead boy’s body was not too far away from him.
“Your man was hit by a cannonball! I’m here to help.”
The old sailor was surprised by Thorson’s actions. However, this was not the right time for a chat. Ammunition was running out fast!
“Quick! Hand me the box!”
Immediately, Thorson climbed to the upper deck. It was then that he saw how bad the situation was. The entire place had been severely damaged by enemy fire, and bodies were strewn all around as well.
He looked to his left and saw the mast of the enemy ship. Right at its top flew the flag of the Black Sail.