To be a pirate or a king's man?

Chapter 11 - Storming the Hurricane

Chapter 11

The Stormprow turned to starboard as Sam turned the ship's wheel hard, levelling out when the prow was facing the port side of the HMS Hurricane. The wind was blowing from the Stormprow's port, so the full speed of the ship could not be put into effect, but it would be enough to catch the Hurricane. On deck, Sam saw the long nines ready to be rolled to the bow at Morgan's command. Morgan himself was standing at the prow, looking through a spyglass at his prey. No more than one thousand five hundred metres lay between the two ships, and the gap was closing. Morgan raised his sword with a flourish, and the wolf and snake flag was raised on the mainmast, followed by the red triangular flag that signalled that the Stormprow would give no quarter. Sam saw the Hurricane begin to turn so that its stern faced the Stormprow; clearly they had seen the signal. Once the ships were eight hundred metres apart, the long nines would be able to fire accurately enough to incapacitate the Hurricane.

Sam could imagine Tyler on the deck of the other ship, shouting commands to his doomed crew, not knowing that it was him that was the ultimate prize in Morgan's eye. The gap closed further; only one thousand metres lay between the ships. Sam smiled grimly. It would be sad to see Ed die, and the men had saved him from a hanging, but there was no way to stop fate, and Morgan had ordered that the entire enemy crew must die. We outnumber them by at least two to one, this will be a slaughter. The gap was small enough now, the Stormprow's famed cannons were rolling up to their places and Morgan was stepping back from the bow. He walked up to the bridge of the ship and turned to the deck, "Remember men, once we catch them, kill every man on their ship, but leave the First Officer to me, I must kill him myself for the ring's power to return to me!" He checked the distance between the ships - it could not be more than seven hundred metres - and yelled at the top of his voice, "FIRE!"

The roar of the cannons at the prow answered him, and six bar shots were launched from the prow, flying into the mast and sails of the Hurricane. The ship slowed as the mast snapped, slowly breaking off and falling onto the starboard side. "Draw up to the port and board immediately!" cried the captain, his mask shining in the sunlight as what was left of his face grinned in ecstasy. He turned to Sam, "Point out this Mr Tyler for me, then let me handle him," he ordered. Sam nodded as the Stormprow drew up to the Hurricane, towering over her deck. He pointed at Tyler, who was standing in the middle of the deck, ordering his men into position. "There, the one giving orders." he said. Morgan thanked him and grabbed a rope from the mast before swinging onto the deck and landing on top of one of the Hurricane's crew, snapping his neck.

That was Robin Boyles,  He saved you from hanging, remember? A part of Sam called out from his head. He did, but now he's my enemy, and now he's dead, the rest of him replied as he jumped onto the Hurricane's poop deck and drew his sword, they're all my enemies now. He strode forward and cut down a former crewmate, and then another. He parried a blow coming in from a third, and knocked him to the ground. "Wait, Sam! Don't you recognise me? It's Ed!" The man cried as Sam faced him, standing over him. Sam shook his head and cut down, splitting Ed's skull with a swipe. He turned and saw Morgan battling with Tyler, swords flashing in the sun. Parrying and striking against each other whilst their owners danced around the centre of the deck. Morgan laughed as he fought. He's playing with Tyler, Sam realised. Tyler was parrying and dodging deliberately clumsy strokes, not realising that Morgan could kill him in an  instant. 

Suddenly, it seemed that Morgan grew bored with his game, as he stepped back and countered a lunge from Tyler. Morgan grabbed Tyler's outstretched right arm with his left hand and used the hilt of his sword to punch down on the other man's shoulder, breaking the joint. Tyler screamed and dropped his sword. Morgan kept his grip on Tyler's right arm and twisted behind him, wrenching the arm into an excruciating lock. Morgan's sword flashed in the sunlight as it crossed to the left side of the two men and quickly drew across Tyler's throat, opening it as the blade passed through skin and cartilage, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Tyler dropped to the floor and twitched as his blood flowed from the long split in his neck, pooling around his face. Morgan knelt down and whispered something into his ear before reaching across and plucking the ring from Tyler's right hand. As Morgan slipped the ring onto his own right annular finger, the ruby in the skeletal hand seemed to flame and the captain sighed in relief and clenched his fist, kissing the ring. He turned and addressed his crew, "Kill any of the remaining crew members, then loot the ship and get back aboard." Morgan walked through the ranks of his crew and climbed onto his own ship, his red coat billowing in the warm wind as he did so.

The crew cheered and ran down to the hold, taking the possessions of the Hurricane's previous crewmembers as well as the barrels of rum that were in the galley. Sam walked over to the captain's cabin and entered. It was well lit and a man was standing in the light from the rear windows. He was holding a sword. "Ah, Wheelwright was it? I trust that you're here to fight to defend me and finish these ruffians? Ah, but you're one of them aren't you? I suppose I'll have to just kill you, then escape in the rowboat. By the way, you should know that as the captain of this vessel, I take your desertion rather personally!" The man lunged with his sabre, but Sam had been expecting the captain to still be alive and had kept his sword unsheathed. He dodged left and blocked the incoming swipe from the captain's recovery, angling his sword and pushing down so that his opponent's sword was pushed to the ground. He barged forward with a shoulder push and stamped on the handle of the captain's sword, disarming him. Jon Haroldson stepped back and drew a pistol from his belt, pointing it at Sam. "Put your sword down, if I fire this, I'll kill you, but draw the attention of your crew, which I'd rather not do."

"Ok, I'm putting the sword down." Sam bent down to one knee, lowering his weapon, but he drew his left hand round to the handle of Jon's sword and rose suddenly, swiping up with the captain's sword in his left hand and his own in his right. The left hand knocked the pistol up, so the panic shot from Jon went through the roof of the cabin. At the same time, he swung with his right hand and cut down on Jon's wrist, severing it. The captain screamed and looked at the stump of his right hand, then up at Sam. He charged. Sam stepped aside and grabbed Jon's shoulder before pushing the blade in his right hand through the left side of Jon's body, piercing his heart. Captain Jon Haroldson of the HMS Hurricane grunted before dropping to his knees and sliding off Sam's sword, onto the wooden floor of his cabin. Sam looked around the cabin, took a few choice items such as a black pistol, the captain's tricorn and a silver ring and left the cabin, crossing his arms and sheathing his two swords as he did so, the pistol slid down the back of his belt and the ring on his right index finger.

Once outside, he cut the golden trim from the tricorn and placed it on his head at the standard angle. He saw that he was one of the last men to leave the ship and climbed up to the deck of the Stormprow, moving with the agility that he had learned over his years of sailing. On the deck, the crew were already breaking out the rum for the victory party. It was likely to be an especially large celebration that night, as Morgan had reclaimed the one item in the world that gave him a fighting chance against Diamond Eye Jack, who was chasing and probably only one day behind them. Captain Morgan himself was standing on the bridge of the ship, admiring his ring in the sunlight. Sam walked up and joined him. "Smaller than I remember," Morgan was saying thoughtfully, with his hand raised to the sky, the ring refracting the sunlight into a myriad of red light that danced across the deck as Morgan's hand moved.

"Sir?" Sam stood to the left of Morgan, hands behind back and standing at ease, like he had been taught in the navy.

"Aye, Wheelwright. There's no need to stand on ceremony, just talk normally. What is it?" Morgan replied, still looking up at his ring.

 put the celebrations aside. We don't know where Jack is, and if he catches us drunk and off guard, we'll be slaughtered, like you said yesterday."

"A very valid point. That's why the men are only to get their extra rum ration tonight, before being sent off to quarters. Every man will need to be worth his salt tomorrow, and if half the crew's got a hangover, we're dead meat at the butcher's!" Morgan had clearly thought this through before the battle. He turned to the crew on the deck below, his eyes finally leaving the ring. "Alright men, there is to be one extra rum ration only tonight. I understand that you gents would like to get so drunk you can't tell bow from stern, but if Jack comes whilst you're wasted, how long will it take for him to massacre every one of us? Save the party for when he's lying in a cold, watery grave and you can rule the seas as the last crew of the last Ocean Wolf!" 

The crew cheered, although they clearly regretted not being able to drink themselves to oblivion, however good Morgan's point was. They grumbled a bit as they resumed setting the sails to carry the Stormprow away from the site of the battle, and some f the men took last glances at the barrels of rum and put all but one of them away. The captain himself stood at the helm, anxiously looking around, as if he expected Jack's ship to come over the horizon at any second.