MAROONED: Will YOU Endure Treachery and Survival on the High Seas? (Click Your Poison)

by James Schannep

  Too much salt in, not enough salt out, which means you get thirstier. By drinking that seawater, you add too much salt in, not enough salt out, which means you get thirstier. And on and on it goes, until….

  THE END

  Brethren of the Coast

  You step forward. “Chips, think of the flogged young sailmaker. Was that justice? The rest of you, think of the rations and pay you’ve been denied. Was Captain Bullock kindhearted towards any of us? Now think of the opportunity we have here.”

  “What’re ya sayin’, Saltboots?” Billy asks.

  “We sail to Boston, as planned. We sell the cargo, as planned. We return home, as planned. We tell the truth of it—that Captain Bullock died at sea because the man had a bad heart—for none here can deny that. Then we all go our separate ways. But for now, I think we can agree, we’re in this together.”

  “Aye, but only as a fraternity!” Rediker adds.

  “Call me not brother, Rediker! But Saltboots has the right of it. For now, we need all hands t’sail for Boston. Once there, help ye I cannot. No matter how cruel-hearted the master, what’s done here, well, ’tis mutiny and piracy in the eyes-o’-the admiralty.”

  Rediker steps forward, saying, “True enough. But pirate ships don’t have first or second mates, so there ain’t much need for the likes-o’-you, Billy. I say we string this man up ’fore he sees it done t’the rest-o’-us. Cap’n Saltboots, make me your quartermaster, and let’s rid ourselves-o’-the last tyrant aboard this ship!”

  “Ya lubbers won’t make landfall without good ’ole Billy! I know this ship like the back-o’-me hand! Make me your quartermaster, Cap’n, and whip this dog ’fore he bites another master’s hand!”

  The ship starts to list, such as it is that no one is steering her. With the crew simply idling, there’s real danger that the Cooper’s Pride could turn against the wind, hit a bad patch of seas, and capsize. This isn’t going as easily as you’d hoped, but at least both men have recognized you as captain, so that’s a start!

  Quickly, Captain Saltboots, what’re your first orders?

  • Billy’s my number two. Get all hands to their stations, then get the cat to silence Rediker’s dissent.

  • I need both these men under me. They’ll just have to learn to work together! Otherwise, all is lost.

  • Rediker’s my number two. We must hang Billy now, lest we all hang when we get to Boston.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  A Bright Future

  Once the English flag replaces the pirate black, the Spanish warship fires her guns in salute. If there’s an enemy more hated than the English navy, it’s an English pirate ship.

  The rest of the pirate crew is disarmed; you order a group of men to head below decks and diffuse whatever explosives were primed by that fuse. Once the pirates are all rounded up, shackled into irons, and weapons cleared, Captain Longwick boards the Cooper’s Pride.

  “Well done, Ward! Well done. Ah, this must be the piratical captain. Is this knave the one the rogue’s gallery rallies behind?”

  “Aye, sir. Man calls himself Rediker,” you reply.

  “And what of Captain Bullock?”

  “Dead. Killed himself, left the crew without a Cap’n,” Rediker says, defiant.

  “He tells it true, sir!” the mustachioed pirate adds.

  “Yes, I’m sure he does,” Longwick says dryly. “But were I you, I shouldn’t stick my neck out so close to the gallows. Save your stories for the Admiralty High Court.”

  “Here is the pirate captain’s sword,” you offer.

  “Keep it. Sail back to London and deliver these prisoners for trial, then tell the admiralty that Charles Longwick insists his ward take the next examination for Lieutenant. The Cooper’s Pride is now under your command.”

  Head swimming, you look about, seeing cousin James grinning at your side.

  “Well? What say you?” Captain Longwick prods.

  “Aye, sir. Thank you, sir! But I shall need a gunner to serve on the ship with me.”

  At this, Captain Longwick’s normally stalwart face exhibits the slightest smile. “You have your choice over the men to crew your return voyage. Godspeed, Captain Ward!”

  * * *

  That’s it! You’ve survived and thrived in the world of a midshipman. But there’s plenty more to explore. MAROONED has three unique storylines (look for anchors, skull and crossbones, and the palm tree symbols) and over fifty possible endings. Maybe things would have worked out differently if you had been a crew member of the Cooper’s Pride? Or, what if you were a pirate yourself?

  If you’re ready to find more to explore, click to RESET or go to THE END for the full chapter list.

  Or, if you’re finished, please consider leaving a review to help others find this book. It’s an incredibly helpful and easy way to support the author (who thanks you in advance, and in third-person, no less!).

  When you’re done, don’t forget to check out the other exciting titles in the Click Your Poison multiverse! You can also sign up for the new release mailing list, or check out James Schannep’s blog for updates.

  INFECTED—Will YOU Survive the Zombie Apocalypse?

  MURDERED—Can YOU Solve the Mystery?

  SUPERPOWERED—Will YOU be a Hero or a Villain?

  PATHOGENS—Who Will Survive the Zombie Apocalypse?

  The Butcher

  Aside from your having caught the captain in his death throes, who was the last person to see Captain Bullock alive? As the ship’s surgeon, Butch was summoned to the captain’s cabin after tending to the young sailor whipped by the cat-o’-nine-tails, after which Bullock had shut himself away until his ultimate demise.

  Butch was the only non-crimped man among the other “new recruits” on the Cooper’s Pride, a fact that you had not given much significance until now. As a volunteer, it could be assumed that whatever grudges he might’ve held would be minor.

  Yet a stint on a merchantman would last a year, at least. Which could be a long time to serve under a captain you’d grown to begrudge. But was this true for Butch? Did he dislike the captain?

  Butch had already visited Captain Bullock’s cabin before you started your watch, so you didn’t actually see him come or leave, but you did hear Marlowe share his misgivings while the old man was on the same watch as yourself.

  “Cap’n be medicatin’ himself now, I’d wager,” Marlowe had said. “Saw Butch bringing a vial-o’-something-o’-other with him to Bullock’s cabin. Needs a nip t’help him sleep after having beaten a lad. Butch left with that vial empty, saw him toss the bottle overboard! He didn’t think I were watching, but I saw him plain as day. And the piece-o’-parchment he carried at his departure? An order for more pharmaceuticals, no doubt. Butch were white as a sheet, leaving the cabin. Moved like a man ashamed, afraid-o’-being caught, and who wouldn’t be, if ordered t’steal medicines for the ship’s master?”

  That had been Marlowe’s take, and at the time, you had accepted the theory at face value. At the most, you’d figured that Butch had been chastised for some perceived slight. Who hadn’t been jawed-down from the captain at one time or another?

  But now? Something feels out of place. If you could only think back on the clues left in Bullock’s cabin, maybe you could make sense of it all? Or perhaps you should just think back on the others?

  • Think back to your time with Billy Greaves, the Mate and right-hand man of Captain Bullock.

  • Rack your brain over what odd occurrences happened near Dudderidge, the sea cook.

  • Simply stare up at the stars—the same your shipmates presently sail beneath—until you fall asleep.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  By the Don’s Early Light

  After a fitful night’s sleep, you head up to the quarterdeck to see how the situation has progressed. Or, more accurately, to not see—for the early morning brings with it a dense fog. It’s a haze that glows with the promise of dawn, but the only indications that you’re still on the same ocean
as the night before are the lamplights from the Don Pedro Sangre, which illuminate your tail like fireflies in the distance.

  “Lieutenant Dalton—” you start.

  “Ward, shh!” he hisses, a finger up to his lips. He marches over and whispers, “Captain Longwick has ordered complete silence, in hopes the Spanish lose us in the night.”

  That would explain the lack of lamplight here on the Hornblower, though the plan does not appear to have worked. The Don Pedro Sangre still haunts your shadow. Murmurs from the crewmen, suddenly unable to help themselves from breaking the order of silence, draw your eye to the larboard side. And with good reason—the fog here glows with the lamplight of a distant ship.

  “They’ve passed us?” Dalton says, incredulous.

  But the lights to the rear haven’t disappeared. Stranger still, there seem to be voices coming from every direction. More lights appear on the starboard side, in front, aft—everywhere!

  “By Jove, they’re speaking the King’s English!” Dalton cries, his excitement getting the better of him.

  Then, as if crossing some unseen barrier, you pass through the fog completely. So too, dissipates the fog of your misunderstanding. For it isn’t the Spanish around you at all: you’ve met with the rest of the Royal Navy! Lieutenant Dalton rushes to orders, desperate to signal the fleet before the Don Pedro Sangre realizes the trap they’re sailing into. He does so at the exact right moment, for the enemy follows into clear skies, but not before several British warships arrive to claim her as a prize.

  Breaking the order of silence with the rest of the seamen, you hurrah at the sight of your countrymen, knowing that victory has saved the day.

  “Well, then,” Captain Longwick says, appearing on deck and looking most pleased. “I suppose I should go meet with the Admiral in accepting the Dons’ surrender. Lieutenant Dalton, you’re in command until I return.”

  • Stay silent, and keep close to Dalton. You’d do well to see how a junior officer assumes command.

  • Say, “Sir! Might I accompany you? This would be a great event for a new Midshipman to witness.”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Calloused

  “Saw another hand flogged today, which I’m sure will be the first of many, as tensions mount and the increased workload continues to wear at the crew. With a raw backside, this sailor is now unable to perform many duties, and so leaves yet more work for the rest of us….”

  You take a break from journaling to massage a cramp in your hand, surprised at how rough they feel. Funny, you’d hardly ever tired in your penmanship at home, but now it seems you’ve become accustomed to a different sort of work with these hands.

  Eight bells rings, signaling a change of the watch. You blow on the ink to ensure it’s dried, then head up to perform your duties.

  Even though the storms have subsided, the sky remains covered by a thick blanket of clouds. Once the sun has set, as now, that makes it increasingly difficult to navigate. The compass will generally keep the course, but there are strict orders for any seaman who makes a sighting of the stars to take note and report in to the captain, so he can compare with his charts and make a more accurate heading towards Boston. A discrepancy of even a degree could put you hundreds of miles off-course and mean a delay of several days or even weeks into port.

  You’re scanning the horizon for any astronomical signs when your eye catches several figures in the moonlight. It’s a trio of men gathered near the bow, unusual in a severely undermanned watch. The three of them then head down into the hold, one by one, which is stranger still, as they now leave the bow unmanned.

  • Best to trust a gut instinct, and this just feels plain wrong. Follow the conspirators down into the hold.

  • Surely they have good reason. Keep your watch. No good can come from abandoning yet another post.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Calm before the Storm

  Barlow keeps a firm grip on your arm, leading you down into the hold, but he doesn’t seem too concerned that you might fight back. Perhaps it’s because he’s so long underestimated you, or perhaps it’s simply because he views you as nothing more than another piece of cargo; a duty to be performed.

  When you suddenly lash out, he’s completely unprepared.

  You slam his face against one of the wooden walls, snapping his nose with a crack and a fountain of blood. His curses surge forth to match the flow, but he’s a fighter. Barlow goes for his pistol, and you take hold of his wrist, bashing the arm against the wall to get him to drop the weapon.

  Bang! It discharges into the ceiling, the shot likely stuck in the boards. Barlow drops the pistol and goes for the cutlass, so you rush in, not giving him the space to draw the edged weapon. While he struggles, you take his head and bash it against your knee, leaping up to bring them together in the middle.

  Barlow falls in a heap, and you go for his cutlass. But when you turn back, you see a trio of other pirates in the doorway, drawn by the commotion. It might have been better to wait until the ship was actually engaged in action, you realize. For then, a gunshot might have gone unnoticed. As it is, there’s no way you’ll take three bloodthirsty pirates on your own, and these men have no desire to see you bound and gagged. They’d rather break your bones and slit your throat.

  THE END

  Calypso

  The fires set by the pirates are mercifully short-lived. Lush jungle (and further tropical squalls) help to quench the blaze; so too is your thirst for pirate blood slaked by the death of the pirate crew. You never learn the fate of the men who escaped in the jolly boat, but if they survived the journey in the small craft, their tales must have been such that all others should avoid your island.

  The careened ship left behind provides a bounty with her stores of animals, dried foods, and supplies ranging from canvas, to iron and timbers. Even the ship itself can be broken down and used for a better shelter. The ship is far too large for you to sail alone, and even if you could, it’s not like you’d want to.

  This island is now and forevermore your home. You name it Ogygia, from the mythical island said to have kept Odysseus ensnared by the appeal of the Nymph, Calypso. The island provides, and lays claim to any sailors who might land on its shores—forever.

  * * *

  That’s it! You’ve survived and thrived on a desert island. But there’s plenty more to explore. MAROONED has three unique storylines (look for anchors, skull and crossbones, and the palm tree symbols) and over fifty possible endings. Maybe things would have worked out differently against the pirates if you had exposed Bullock’s murderer? Or, what if you had boarded a different ship back in London?

  If you’re ready to find more to explore, click to RESET or go to THE END for the full chapter list.

  Or, if you’re finished, please consider leaving a review to help others find this book. It’s an incredibly helpful and easy way to support the author (who thanks you in advance, and in third-person, no less!).

  When you’re done, don’t forget to check out the other exciting titles in the Click Your Poison multiverse! You can also sign up for the new release mailing list, or check out James Schannep’s blog for updates.

  INFECTED—Will YOU Survive the Zombie Apocalypse?

  MURDERED—Can YOU Solve the Mystery?

  SUPERPOWERED—Will YOU be a Hero or a Villain?

  PATHOGENS—Who Will Survive the Zombie Apocalypse?

  Cannonade

  “You are addressing a superior officer!” Lieutenant Saffron chastises, in response to your criticisms.

  “I’ll be happy to address you as so, sir, after the battle. Until then, I have this broadside under my command, and I’ll be damned if you’re the reason we don’t give as good as we get!” you reply indignantly.

  Somehow, this rouses your men more than your earlier speech. Perhaps they see it as you sticking your neck out to defend them, but regardless, they’re now fired up and ready to do their duty. The lieutenant shrinks away, knowing not to press the issue while a
n attack looms. The distant crack of musket fire reports from above decks, signaling the start of hostilities. The gun deck feels like a tinderbox—ready to blow.

  Finally, the time for battle comes.

  “Rear battery, fire!” the Captain issues loudly, which is relayed down to your command.

  “FIRE!!!” you cry, signaling the last two guns.

  The resultant explosion is unlike anything you’ve ever heard. As the cannons boom, your ears ring out, and the guns themselves slam backwards against their breech ropes. Seeing the several-ton weapons hurled violently backwards is a shock to the system, more so even than briefly going deaf from the cannon shot itself. But your senses soon return, and you ready the men for another round with commands of, “Swab the guns! Load cartridge! Shot! Now run out the guns!”

  At this, the guns are cleaned, reloaded, and lined back up through the gun ports to be fired once more. Taking a moment to look through one of the unused gun ports, you see the behemoth ship bearing down on you still. Did those shots do anything? The order to “Fire as they bear!” is relayed down to your position. You swallow your fear, pushing the men (those within range of the approaching enemy ship) to fire the rear battery as often as they’re able.

  Then all hell breaks loose, as the Spanish return fire.

  The gun deck explodes in a hail of splinters as cannon shot from the Don Pedro Sangre bombards your ship. Several men take splintering—yourself included, with a six-inch stake smashing into your right bicep. But you barely have time to feel that before the sailor next to you is blown apart by a direct hit to the ribcage. The pressure from the blast sprays viscera across the gun deck. It’s complete carnage, with all the stunned seamen looking at the ranking lieutenant for an order. You don’t even remember falling, but somehow you find your footing again and take charge.