The Scourge - Pirates & Privateers

Chapter 13: Gunshot

Martin's vision began to darken as the belt cut further and further into his neck. Bald-head tightened his grip and lifted the tails of the twisted belt over his shoulder, stretching Martin like a rack as he kept his boot pressed firmly against the boy's knee, pinning him to the deck and ringing every last drop of air from his lungs. Martin tried to dig his fingers underneath the belt to relieve the pressure on his throat, but the bind was too tight. He wriggled and writhed as he tried to free himself.

'Hold still, you little brat!' Bald-head growled. 'You're only making it harder for your-.'

'Let him go,' a light voice quivered. Were it not for the sound of a pistol hammer being cocked, Martin wasn't sure he would have noticed it.

Emily stood at the mouth of the gangway, the pistol Martin had given her raised, rattling as her arm trembled.

'I said let him go!'

Bald-head laughed. 'You're not going to be shooting anyone with that, love. You haven't even set the frizzen pan.'

Emily's expression wavered and her eyes flicked to the pistol in her hand.

This lapse was all the bald sailor needed.

'Emily, no!' Martin gasped as the belt around his neck loosened and he collapsed limp to the deck.

Before Emily had time to react, Bald-head lunged forward and lashed her across the cheek with the back of his hand. She fell and the pistol slipped from her grasp, skittering over the deck. Her head ricocheted off the boards and she yelped; the wind snatched from her lungs. Before she could even scream, Bald-head was on top of her, clamping his hands around her neck, squeezing until Martin could hear the rasping of his rough skin tearing into her soft flesh.

Martin choked and heaved out a staggered breath as he tore the belt from his neck. His head was spinning in a whirlpool of rushing blood, and his heart, though weak, jumped into his throat then sank to his boots as he saw the Bald sailor choking the life out of Emily.

'Yer know,' Bald-head remarked as Emily let out a desperate wheeze and scratched at his meaty arms, even as her face turned purple, 'I think if I squeeze a little harder, I might just pop that pretty head of yours off your shoulders. Wouldn't that be a sight?' The muscles in his arms bulged as his hands almost seemed to mould Emily's throat like wet clay. She sobbed a dry, retching wheeze and she tried to claw at the Bald-head's eyes, but her arms were too short to reach.

Even with so little strength, Martin's head throbbed with rage. He drew the knife he kept in his boot and lunged at Bald-head. Though he had meant to stab him in the throat or in the side of his shiny head, at the last moment his focus waned, and he buried the blade up to the hilt in his shoulder.

Bald-head screamed and Emily, freed from his grip, gasped breath back into her lungs. Bald-head reached for the knife and whimpered as his finger pushed the blade deeper into the wound. When he saw Martin's look of awe-struck terror in his boyish-face, Bald-head exploded with rage, grabbing Martin by his collar and throwing him like a log of wood across the quarterdeck. He very nearly crashed through the balustrade, saved only when he put out his hand and caught the wheel.

Bald-head cried out as he pulled the dull-steel knife from his shoulder. Trembling, he tightened his grip on the handle, a look of murder in his eye as Martin's chest pulsed with fear.

'You...' Bald-head snarled. 'You... miserable... little... fu-!'

BANG!

A red mist burst from his eye-socket. At first, he just stood there, the knife in his hand still dripping with blood, a look of white shock pasted across his face. Then, he toppled forward, not even reaching out an arm to catch himself or break his fall. From behind him appeared the pale face of Emily, Martin's pistol in her hand, through a cloud of smoke billowing from the barrel.