Collapsing to the floor, only an uncomfortable pressure in my head kept me company. The pulsing in my ears was deafening, the blood coursing viciously. I'd won. I knew I'd won. But that didn't stop me from retching. My body was done.
My cheek hit the sand, and I lost all control of my throat. I lay there stuck. Still. Paralysed. And nonplussed by the unconcerned stomach that forced its contents upwards. The slimy sludge slopped out of my mouth without a care. The overwhelming exhaustion eventually subsided.
Once the ringing in my ears died down, and the pressure of the pulses lessened, I noticed the cheering and celebrating men around me. Card games played; precious metal changing ownership.
The men relished these moments, Rackham explained. Gambling was forbidden aboard the Ranger. But that was no different to most ships I'd sailed upon. It was necessary. Men who felt cheated or other sore losers - often started conflict; seeded mistrust.
There was little to do aboard but work, sleep, and eat. Yet, the rules of the ship applied only to the men aship. Upon the beach, they were truly free. No law bound them. Not that of a King or Captain. And although rarely did the whole crew leave any island they docked at, it was such a hard and depressing life that moments like those made it worthwhile.
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The Kiss of the Dead (Revised)
Historical FictionA lamenting pirate, slowly finding that a life of crime isn't as bad as it first seems, is plagued by secrets and a past too painful to face. Running away might not be the only answer, but it's the only one Sepp feels he can manage, at least until h...
