A gust of wind blew across the navy vessel, hitting Commodore Foof, a proud poodle officer of the Royal Navy, in his face.
“Oh, blast this ocean air!” Foof bristled with irritation, attempting to brush his clean white fur down so as to keep it from frizzing out. “The sea water is going to fizz my fur!”
Behind the bemoaning commodore, a pit bull officer rolled his eyes at his commander’s complaining, when he caught sight of something concerning out of the corner of his vision. “Um, sir?”
“Oh, why was I the one to be given such a contemptible task?” The high-ranking poodle groaned in irritation, looking out across the rolling waves of the Pedigree Ocean.
“Sir?!” The pit bull tried to get the commodore’s attention again, to no avail.
“Three days to cross this miserable sea and three days back, all for a map! A single map!” Foof fumed as he looked to the sky for some explanation to fall unto him.
However, the only thing that came to him was a high-pitched whistle, growing louder and louder with each second. “What the devil is that noise?”
“SIR!” The officer cried out frantically.
“WHAT?!” Foof thundered when suddenly, an explosion erupted from the sea. Saltwater rained down on the commodore, drenching him and soaking his fur flat.
The pit bull cleared his throat, finally gaining the poodle’s attention. “Pirates off the starboard bow, sir.”
“Pirates?!” The poodle panicked, taking out his telescope and aiming it to where the cannonball came from.
He spotted a wooden vessel approaching fast, with a jolly roger flying from the top of the main mast. Looking from the flag to the bow, he saw the golden figurehead of a snarling hound, baring its teeth and glaring daggers back at the quivering commodore.
“Oh, no! The Snarling Stray…That can only mean…!” Foof scoured the oncoming ship, praying he wouldn’t find the last soul any canine would wish to meet on the open water. His fears were proven real when his sights landed on the captain of the pirate vessel, standing on the bow of his ship while surrounded by a pack of hounds eager for a scrap.
Foof lowered his spyglass, his powdered face growing more pale than ever. “Captain Fetch!”
±
“Felloe! Bring us about broadside!” Fetch turned back and called out to his helmsman.
“Aye, captain!” Felloe, a large Great Dane wearing black sleeveless shirt, turned the giant wooden wheel on the quarterdeck, guiding the ship to run alongside the commodore’s vessel.
“Ready for boarding!” Fetch cried out, followed by his men throwing out numerous lines of hooks on rope, snagging onto whatever they could grab of the navy ship. With strength and camaraderie, the pirate dogs heaved the navy ship closer towards them until they were barely inches apart.
“All forces! Prepare for battle!” Foof cried out, attempting to sound composed but failing to stop the small, fearful tremor carrying in his voice.
The navy vessel’s crew, made up mostly of prepared pit bulls and burly bulldogs, readied themselves for the coming fight, unsheathing swords and loading flintlocks.
Fetch mounted the rail of the port side of his ship, brimming with confidence as he held a stray rope dangling from on high. The rest of his crew stood by his side, holding themselves back as they waited for him to give the order.
The gold-furred captain raised his cutlass high, the sun catching the tip of his blade before he swung it down and pointed it towards their quarry.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“ATTACK!”
He then leapt from the rail and off of his ship, swinging across the gap between the two ships before landing on the navy vessel’s deck, immediately crossing blades with a St Bernard navy man.
The rest of his crew howled in delight, following their captain as they swung across the gap and joined the Frey. The crew of navy dogs opened fire on the incoming enemy, trying to catch any of them flying over the gap towards them. It didn’t take long before the pirates invaded the navy ship, and the main deck turned into a battlefield.
Yipper stood atop the rail next, holding a rope in both hands as he prepared to swing across. Suddenly, a hand grabbed the young pup by the back of his shirt, yanking him off his feet and planting him back on the deck floor.
“Ah, ah, ah,! Not so fast there, Yipper.” Checkers shook his head at the beagle boy, taking the rope out of his paws like a strict parent.
“Aww! But, Checkers!” Yipper whined.
“You’re not ready for a fight like this! Just get below deck and stay there until it's over.” The first mare ordered before leaping off the ship and swinging across into the fray.
The young pup pouted before heading towards the lower deck of the ship. “I never get to do anything fun…"
Back in the battle, Fetch fought off a navy collie, blocking his incoming blade and delivering a swift kick to his stomach, shoving him away with his foot. The Dalmatian dared to crack a small smile, when a low, threatening growl made his ears perk up. Turning around, he saw a large bulldog standing over him, teeth bared and hands up, ready to grab the first mate.
Fetch lowered his swords, daunted by the sheer size of his new opponent, when a shadow cast itself over the bulldog. The navy dog turned to see who had snuck up on him, only to find himself looking up at a humungous St Bernard towering over him, wearing a black bandana over his head and a red-and-white striped shirt, which did nothing to hid the huge, rotund belly protruding out from over his dark brown shorts.
With barely any effort, the St Bernard grabbed hold of the bulldog and lifted him high over his head.
“Leave Cap’n alone!” The giant hound bellowed before throwing the bulldog overboard, the navy sailer howling until falling into the water with a splash.
“Thanks, Benny.” Fetch laughed with what breath he had left after the scare.
Benny, the oversized St Bernard, turned back around and beamed proudly at the first mate. “No problem, Cap’n!”
Across the deck, a navy pitfall crossed blades with another of Fetch’s crew, a lithe Saluki with dark brown fur, wearing a black tricorn hat, white shirt, and a black vest.
“You picked the wrong ship to plunder, you filthy, mangy…!” With a swipe of his blade, he knocked the hat off their head, freeing a bundle of long brown hair. Mesmerised by the maplewood locks flowing in the breeze, the sailor shook himself out of it when he came to a shocking realisation about his opponent.
“…Woman?!”
Rosa, the pirate Saluki scowled at the pit bull. “You have a problem with women?”
“Isn’t it common knowledge that a lady on board a ship brings bad luck?” The sailor scoffed.
The Saluki’s eyes narrowed before shoving him away. The sailor smacked against the wood of the midden mast, dazing him from the impact. Before the pit bull could get his bearings, a knife came flying towards him, striking the wood of the mast mere inches from his face, causing him to let out a small, high-pitched yelp.
“I may be filthy, and I may be mangy…” Rosa stalked towards the frozen sailor, reaching out and taking her knife back while looking the pit bull dead in the eye. “But I’m no lady.”
She then walked away, leaving the petrified pit bull to faint and sink to the wooden floorboards.
A small group of pirates had been cornered at the base of the navy ship’s quarter deck, all held at gunpoint by a squad of navy-dogs armed with flintlock rifles.
“Ready…” One of the pit bull soldiers declared, followed by the clicking of multiple gun hammers.
“Aim…” The navy-dogs squared their sights on their target, the pirates shutting their eyes and bracing for the coming hail of lead…
All of a sudden, a pirate fell in-between the pirates and the navy-dogs, landing on his feet with trained grace. He was an Irish wolfhound with greying fur, an eyepatch over his right eye, and an assortment of firearms strapped to his chest.
“Fire.” Eli finished for the soldiers before drawing a pair of flintlock pistols, crossing his arms and firing in different directions. The sound of pings and pangs surrounded the sailors, the wolfhound’s bullet ricocheting off the masts and cannons until they hit their marks, knocking the rifles straight out of the navy dog's hands.
The soldiers looked from their guns on the floor to the pirate who disarmed them with miraculous ease, all of them wearing expressions of pure astonishment.
“Bullseye.” Eli grinned before the pirates he had rescued charged the soldiers and took the upper hand of the battle once more.
Foof watched the chaos erupting on his ship, horrified at the damage these pirates were causing.
A pair of leather-clad feet landed behind the poodle and his first mate, causing him to jump and let out a yelp of shock when he saw who had appeared.
“Captain Foof!” Fetch greeted the navy captain with a mocking bow. “Just the poodle I was looking for.”
As Foof quivered in terror of the pirate captain, the collie officer took out his sword and went to swipe at the retriever, only for Seth to block him with ease.
“I heard you picked something up on your little expedition.” Fetch smiled casually while keeping the collie at bay. “Something that could earn yourself quite the fortune... or lead you to one.”
The poodle could do nothing but babble gibberish in his petrified state.
“Looks like he’s not in the mood to talk.” The pirate captain deduced with a small frown. He then turned his attention towards the collie who confronted him, his grin back with vengeance. “Maybe you can give me the answers I’m looking for instead.”
“I won’t give you anything!” Winslow, the collie, snarled at the pirate he was crossing blades with.
“You don’t need to give us anything. We’ll just take it! We are pirates after all!” Fetch claimed with a laugh, before pushing Winslow back, his blade grinding against the collie’s until they were nearly snout-to-snout.
“Now. Would you be so kind enough to tell me…where is the map to Blacktail’s treasure?”