Uncharted Waters

Duck. Pivot. Parry.
Shit!
There's a sharp sound of scratching metal as my cutlass is tugged out of my grip, and I watch helplessly as it goes skidding across the deck.
A cheer goes up behind me as a heeled boot catches in my knee and I flail and fall back onto the deck.
Ow.
I try to crawl away, but there's a mast in my way, and I just get myself pinned against it. There's a gleam off my pursuer's blade as the tip comes to rest delicately on my throat. I raise my hands slowly.
There are yells above us both on the quarterdeck and on the forecastle, egging her on. She grins down at me with an infuriating cock of her head. "Any last words?"