Captain John Slate
Wanted Pirate
A sliver of moonlight illuminated the shape of a sloop as it crept along the coastline. Nothing but the gentle flap of the sails and the sound of rippling water betrayed her passing. A man stood on the deck staring intently northward into the blackness. The warship that had been following them for the past five days was nowhere in sight. Though relieved, he knew they could not be sure they had escaped until the sun rose. He looked at the black sails above him, glad that he had taken the extra time and money to have them painted. Now his ship was nearly invisible, a mere shadow in the night as befitting her name. The Raven. He turned and walked down into his cabin, stopping briefly to make sure his helmsman was not asleep at the wheel. Although he had ordered a ship wide blackout, he risked lighting a small candle and checked his maps. They had been raiding in the Bahamas for a few weeks and had attracted the attention of the Navy. Now with a full cargo and a warship somewhere behind them, they could not afford to stray off course in their journey to Tortuga. He jerked his head up at a sudden rapping on the door. Stepping out he found the lookout anxiously playing with a string of pearls he had acquired in a past raid. The man stepped forward and whispered, “C-captain Slate sir! Ahead of us, a flash of green sir! I just s-saw it!” John Slate frowned. Though young Jacob did not scare easily, now he seemed about to shake himself apart. Slate said, “Go down below and wake Marcus. Tell him to meet me on deck.” Still frowning the captain strode to the bow. He could see a thin line of trees extending out from the island in front of them. They would need to make a larboard turn soon. After a few moments he was joined by Ephraim Marcus, the quartermaster. The balding man was not happy at being woken. “What in Davy Jones name do ye want at this ungodly hour?” he hissed. John opened his mouth to answer when he noticed something. Was that line of trees… moving?
Suddenly there were four successive flashes of light followed immediately by the sharp report of cannon fire. What he had thought were trees were actually the masts and tattered sails of an undead ship! As the cannon balls whizzed over head and splashed into the water behind them, Marcus now fully awake bellowed, “All hands on deck! Man the guns!” and began running amongst the men tipping them out of their hammocks yelling. “Get up! Move your sorry carcasses before I take the whip t’ye! MOVE!” Men scrambled and bumped into each other grabbing their swords and scrambling to their posts. Samuel, a big black man with powder burns all over, began getting the cannon crews in order as another undead broadside flew past. Much closer this time. “Hard a larboard!” Slate yelled, and The Raven began to swing around. They were now close enough that he could make out skeletal shapes scrambling around the rigging and guns of the ghostly vessel. As they came abreast he heard Samuel yell “Guns ready!” Slate waited a moment and yelled, “FIRE!” A cloud of smoke erupted from the side of The Raven as cannon balls flew towards the other ship. Too high! He could hear Samuel cursing the men as they reloaded. The undead released another broadside. This one hit home. Splinters flew as the cannon balls punched through the side. Screams from the wounded pierced the air and men scrambled to patch the holes before water began leaking in. The undead were in musket range now. He saw one undead gunner lurch backwards as a ball split the bone between his eye sockets. Another call of guns ready from Samuel and The Raven’s cannons boomed. A cheer went up as the broadside tore into the enemy ship sending wood and bone flying.
As both crews worked furiously to reload their guns someone cried, “Starboard side! Starboard side!” Slate turned to see a party of undead armed to the teeth climbing over the rail. They had snuck underwater to the right side of the ship and had taken two pirates by surprise. As they cut down the man who had given the warning, they in turn were cut down by an onslaught of steel and lead. By the time the pirates finished them off the cannons from both ships let loose, and for a moment all they could see was smoke. Suddenly out of the murkiness came a small three pronged shape. It fell onto the deck with a clang and was instantly pulled back before catching on a swivel-gun mount. “Grapples!” Marcus shouted, “Prepare to repel boarders!” As the smoke cleared the moon-light revealed the undead swinging hooks over their heads before launching them at The Raven. They were close enough that Slate could see the glow in their eye sockets. Hook after hook landed and pulled tight as the crew ran frantically around chopping at the ropes with cutlasses, hatchets, and anything they could grab. As the undead began climbing along the ropes, Slate pulled out a pistol, fired a shot at them, and missed. He pulled out another and fired again. A skeleton shrieked and fell from the rope. Soon the rest of the crew followed suite and the crack of exploding powder filled the air. The undead dropped like flies, but it wasn’t enough. They were now close enough to jump from ship to ship. “Draw your swords!” Slate yelled as he drew his own cutlass. “Fight to the end!” The men gave a shout and met the advancing horde head on. Steel clashed on steel and the sound of bones cracking and cries of pain rose into the night. Slate parried a swing from a skeleton and countered with a swing of his own that lopped off the creatures skull. He swung at the legs of another sending it to the deck then thrust his sword between its rib cage. Whatever black magic created the thing separated from it and it faded into a green fog. As he stood a pirate fell into him run through by an undead boarding pike. He fell to the deck and grabbed a fallen crew-members blunderbuss and blew apart the rib-cage and spine of an advancing skeleton. Another pirate helped him up and he took a few precious seconds to look around. Though still numerous the number of undead had thinned drastically giving him hope that they might survive. He blocked a skeletons attack and ran it through, then pulled a hatchet from his belt and buried it into the skull of another. He kept swinging his cutlass and soon adrenaline took over. He cut down skeleton after skeleton as the battle raged on. Finally the clash of swords grew more sporadic, the number of undead dwindled, and victory grew ever closer.
When the last skeleton had been dispatched Slate took a group of men to search the undead vessel for anything of value while the rest of the crew made repairs and disposed of what was left of the skeleton crew. After he was satisfied that they had removed what they needed he sent Samuel down to the hold to prepare the undead powder stores to be blown up. He stepped back aboard The Raven and looked up at the sky squinting at the sudden unexpected brightness.
It was dawn.
Suddenly there were four successive flashes of light followed immediately by the sharp report of cannon fire. What he had thought were trees were actually the masts and tattered sails of an undead ship! As the cannon balls whizzed over head and splashed into the water behind them, Marcus now fully awake bellowed, “All hands on deck! Man the guns!” and began running amongst the men tipping them out of their hammocks yelling. “Get up! Move your sorry carcasses before I take the whip t’ye! MOVE!” Men scrambled and bumped into each other grabbing their swords and scrambling to their posts. Samuel, a big black man with powder burns all over, began getting the cannon crews in order as another undead broadside flew past. Much closer this time. “Hard a larboard!” Slate yelled, and The Raven began to swing around. They were now close enough that he could make out skeletal shapes scrambling around the rigging and guns of the ghostly vessel. As they came abreast he heard Samuel yell “Guns ready!” Slate waited a moment and yelled, “FIRE!” A cloud of smoke erupted from the side of The Raven as cannon balls flew towards the other ship. Too high! He could hear Samuel cursing the men as they reloaded. The undead released another broadside. This one hit home. Splinters flew as the cannon balls punched through the side. Screams from the wounded pierced the air and men scrambled to patch the holes before water began leaking in. The undead were in musket range now. He saw one undead gunner lurch backwards as a ball split the bone between his eye sockets. Another call of guns ready from Samuel and The Raven’s cannons boomed. A cheer went up as the broadside tore into the enemy ship sending wood and bone flying.
As both crews worked furiously to reload their guns someone cried, “Starboard side! Starboard side!” Slate turned to see a party of undead armed to the teeth climbing over the rail. They had snuck underwater to the right side of the ship and had taken two pirates by surprise. As they cut down the man who had given the warning, they in turn were cut down by an onslaught of steel and lead. By the time the pirates finished them off the cannons from both ships let loose, and for a moment all they could see was smoke. Suddenly out of the murkiness came a small three pronged shape. It fell onto the deck with a clang and was instantly pulled back before catching on a swivel-gun mount. “Grapples!” Marcus shouted, “Prepare to repel boarders!” As the smoke cleared the moon-light revealed the undead swinging hooks over their heads before launching them at The Raven. They were close enough that Slate could see the glow in their eye sockets. Hook after hook landed and pulled tight as the crew ran frantically around chopping at the ropes with cutlasses, hatchets, and anything they could grab. As the undead began climbing along the ropes, Slate pulled out a pistol, fired a shot at them, and missed. He pulled out another and fired again. A skeleton shrieked and fell from the rope. Soon the rest of the crew followed suite and the crack of exploding powder filled the air. The undead dropped like flies, but it wasn’t enough. They were now close enough to jump from ship to ship. “Draw your swords!” Slate yelled as he drew his own cutlass. “Fight to the end!” The men gave a shout and met the advancing horde head on. Steel clashed on steel and the sound of bones cracking and cries of pain rose into the night. Slate parried a swing from a skeleton and countered with a swing of his own that lopped off the creatures skull. He swung at the legs of another sending it to the deck then thrust his sword between its rib cage. Whatever black magic created the thing separated from it and it faded into a green fog. As he stood a pirate fell into him run through by an undead boarding pike. He fell to the deck and grabbed a fallen crew-members blunderbuss and blew apart the rib-cage and spine of an advancing skeleton. Another pirate helped him up and he took a few precious seconds to look around. Though still numerous the number of undead had thinned drastically giving him hope that they might survive. He blocked a skeletons attack and ran it through, then pulled a hatchet from his belt and buried it into the skull of another. He kept swinging his cutlass and soon adrenaline took over. He cut down skeleton after skeleton as the battle raged on. Finally the clash of swords grew more sporadic, the number of undead dwindled, and victory grew ever closer.
When the last skeleton had been dispatched Slate took a group of men to search the undead vessel for anything of value while the rest of the crew made repairs and disposed of what was left of the skeleton crew. After he was satisfied that they had removed what they needed he sent Samuel down to the hold to prepare the undead powder stores to be blown up. He stepped back aboard The Raven and looked up at the sky squinting at the sudden unexpected brightness.
It was dawn.
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