The year is 1872, the Rogues of London move away from their hometown and out to sea in search of new adventure. However, oceans bite back, pirates are waiting, and stranger love is to be found out there.
Larry Stylinson, including all of One Direct...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
And that was when I realised that we were in far deeper trouble than I had imagined. We were on the Ship that controlled the oceans, the Ship that could churn up a storm, and the Ship that could bring every creature from the deepest waters to the surface. We had wandered right into death's door, and there was very little chance of making our way out.
After all of the people who have come and gone, all the people who have hurt me and those like my mother who had done little but hurtful damage; after all of them, I had just gone running to death.
However, maybe I had seen people come and go, maybe my prostitute mother had raised me badly and done some damage, but she had not, by far, raised a quitter.
*
Louis' eye glistened in the light of the storm and the passion in his empty heart. He watched the Captain, playing the scenes of murder in his head as if he were watching a private film. He looked at the Captain alright, but his head was alight with images of that old body in action. He imagined how Blackbeard moved back then, how relentlessly he'd hurt, and how loud his voice had roared. Louis wondered if this man could still fight like he could then, because, how long had it been? He'd died a hell of a long time ago, that was sure.
Louis still did not understand how a Ghostman could still be standing here, and he knew that his comrades thought he was mistaken in thinking that this Pirate was Blackbeard. But Louis was not mistaken, and the guess he had made was wild but perfectly accurate.
"You're not alone, are you?" Louis asked, already knowing the reply.
He could tell by the ruthless smile and the unmoved sense of composure that the Captain gave off that he could not have cared less about his dead shipmen. At least, when they died, Louis thought, they had the decency to not come back to life afterwards.
"What makes ye think that, Harlot?" Blackbeard inquired.
Louis adjusted the position of his prosthetic leg by shifting it backwards for balance and pointed to the Captain's face. "Look at that ugly mug of yours, you could never convince me that what I'm looking at is the face of a man who's alone out here."
The Captain tilted his chin down, feather on his hat blowing backwards as he said, "Per'aps ye right, but per'aps ye're mistaken."
Louis smiled and every steamer's blood ran cold. "Oh no, I know I'm right."
There was some form of tension in the air, like sparks of adventure and lust for action that both Louis and the Captain seemed to radiate. Blackbeard must have been longing for a real battle, he must have been craving a fight fit for a pirate since the day he had been murdered. And Louis.. Well, Louis' intentions were clear. He had become, over time, a killing machine, and to make this ship as his own would be an honouring reward for the Captain's second and final death.
"You have more living people onboard this ship, ones who are mortal, who are more worthy than the stinking bastards behind me." Louis read the Captain's eyes and knew that he was nearing his reply. "You have people onboard this ship who you think very highly of, people that you do not want harm to near. I can see it, you keep a treasure that you value a thousand lives more than the ship herself."
