MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Mutinous
“I’ve heard everything,” you say. The men startle and jump to their feet. “And I want in. There can be no justice under Captain Bullock’s reign, for his orders will get us all killed. We’ve seen the food and rum rations worsening while he eats fresh beef and drinks wine with every meal. Each loss in the crew puts us all at risk—we’re slowly dying out here. Overthrowing the man is a responsibility. A sacred duty.”
Although the words just spill out, they put the men at ease; you are welcomed into their company with eager handshakes and wide grins.
“Were ye not also on watch, Saltboots?” Marlowe asks.
Rediker nods. “We must move quickly, lest we’re discovered. Saltboots, I’d wager Bullock least suspects yourself. Go to the Captain’s cabin, tell the man ye have a star reading, and bring him out t’see. We lot will be waiting to throw the man overboard.”
“That way it looks like an accident,” Barlow emphasizes.
“Go! Make haste!” Rediker says.
Nodding your understanding, you rush towards the captain’s cabin, trepidation and exhilaration swirling in your breast. Knocking on the door, you hear a muffled reply and a clattering from within. You knock again, and the door creaks open. Must not have been latched….
The door swings wide with a lurch of the ship, and Captain Bullock falls forward into your arms. He makes a hideous gurgling noise, crimson bubbles frothing from his lips. His body falls prone and the unexpected weight of the man brings you both down outside the cabin.
You roll the captain onto his back to find the source of the suffocation, only to see his throat’s been cut! Completely severed, ear to ear. There’s a bloody knife inside the cabin, lying only a few feet away. Captain Bullock continues gagging for breath, blood pulsing from his wound, then—with one more sickening gasp—the man expires.
A cacophony of boots clatter on deck as the crew rushes towards the commotion. The first to arrive is Chips, who looks aghast with horror. Here you are, kneeling over the body of Captain Bullock, the man’s blood on your hands. Joe arrives only a few moments later; more and more of the crew appear by the second.
“What’s happened here?” Joe asks.
“Saltboots… killed the cap’n,” Chips says, ashen-faced with shock.
Rediker, Barlow, and Marlowe arrive, eyes wide with disbelief. This definitely wasn’t part of the plan! But there’s no use in closing the stable door after the horse has bolted. The captain is dead, that much is certain. What now?
• Take credit. “That’s right. Bullock had it coming! We all know it. This is a mutiny and… I’m in charge.”
• Look for a way out. “This is a mutiny, isn’t that right, Rediker? Your men must’ve killed the captain.”
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Nightmare Scenario
Having woken only minutes ago, this feels like some sort of terrible dream of suffocation. Being held in place, unable to move. Jack flails a moment longer, then disappears into the briny depths of the sea. Your stomach swirls in protest, and not just because the sea batters the ship about; seeing a man simply disappear from the face of the earth twists your stomach with a vertigo worse than any seasickness ever could.
“Couldn’t he swim!?” you shout.
Billy shakes his head, comes closer. “Why should a man want t’learn swimmin’? Rather sink straight down and not drag out the whole affair! If ye can swim, keep it t’yourself, Saltboots! Cap’n don’t like sailors who can swim, lest they jump ship near shore!”
There’s a great cracking sound from the main mast, and men shout swears that are muffled by the gale. Billy turns, and bellows commands at the ship’s best seamen.
“Take an axe! Aloft with ya! Cut away the foretop mast! Loose the ropes at the bowsprit! Off with haste!” he cries.
The nearest able seaman doesn’t hesitate, claiming an axe and climbing into the rigging. There’s a second axe nearby, but no one rushes to join him. Great waves of water splash across the decks as the storm rages.
• Run down into the hold and take cover. Better to stay out of the way than get swept out to sea.
• Take the second axe and get climbing!
• Ask Billy how you can help. He’s the mate, after all.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
The Night’s Watch
After a fitful few hours’ sleep, you head up to join the watch. Though there’s not much watching to be done—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.
Despite the orders for silence on deck and no lamplight allowed to illuminate the Hornblower, the enemy has stayed with you like a phantom. But it’s the fact that another glowing haze now appears on the larboard side that truly sends chills up your spine. Another ship? Out here?
“The Flying Dutchman,” one of the sailors whispers, referencing the famed ghost ship.
You look back, seeing the lights of the Don Pedro Sangre still visible behind the stern.
“Look, ’nuther still!” a second seaman hisses, pointing to the starboard side.
Indeed, more lights can be seen opposite, along with ethereal voices disembodied in the fog. Have the Spanish managed reinforcements? Were you surrounded in the night? It’s not threat of ghosts that frighten you, but the very real prospect that you might soon be joining them.
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.”
• Volunteer to join the longboat and row the Captain across to see the flagship!
• What’s Cousin James been up to in all this? Go see how he’s fared as the gunner’s mate!
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Nine Lives Are Up
“Billy, you’ll serve as my quartermaster, same duties as mate. Bosun, get me the cat! We need discipline to run this ship. The rest of you, back to stations!” you order.
But no one moves.
“Saltboots don’t want us as free men,” Rediker says. “Only wants to sit atop the throne now that ’tis empty.”
“Keep up that talk and it’ll be another dozen lashes. Bosun, the whip!”
“Long live Bullock the Second!” Rediker roars.
“Hip, hip!” Barlow says, raising a “Hurrah!” from most of the crew.
You’ve lost them.
The ship makes a sharp turn, sails snapping against a change in the wind. She’s now sailing against the waves, and the Cooper’s Pride rolls powerfully with each swell, back and forth like a pendulum—but increasing the arc with every sway. The crew all latch onto what they can; so violent is the turbulence that it’s impossible to keep one’s footing.
“Back to stations!” Billy cries.
“Damn your blood!” Rediker hollers back.
It’s too late. The ship lurches painfully, and the larboard bow dips into the sea, pulling her down. Now the hand of Neptune grabs hold of the sails, pulling the Pride full over until the ship has capsized. There’s no righting a ship out in the middle of the ocean, and nowhere to swim once she’s sunk. Your only hope now is to drown before
the sharks notice you.
THE END
No Survivors
Flying the red flag successfully gets the bloodlust going in your new pirate recruits. The old crew seem less pleased with the decision, but a captain’s orders must not be questioned during battle. The crew of the Dos Santos appear even less pleased. They fire their guns as you approach, but as a merchant vessel, they have the same number of guns as the Deleon’s Revenge—that is to say, six in total.
“Cap’n, they hit us on the water-line!” Chips reports in.
Generally speaking, it’s best to fire right at your opponent’s decks. This maximizes splintering and casualties, with the goal of sapping your foe’s will to fight. This is where your guns are aimed to fire now. Cannon shot hitting below decks certainly damages the ship, but the men are up top during action, so this is generally seen as wasted shot.
Hitting right at the line between wood and water, however, serves one deadly purpose: to sink the enemy.
“Do what you can to patch us up!” you order the carpenter, and, turning to the rest of the crew, add, “Grappling hooks, let’s board!”
Just as Rediker predicted, many of the crew on the Dos Santos leap overboard at your approach with the red flag. When faced between a choice of being hacked to bits or drowning, it makes sense. Theoretically, that should make things much easier.
The rest of the Portuguese sailors, however, are prepared to fight to the death. It’s a gruesome fight, full of bloody carnage. Casualties are high on both sides, but ultimately your crew wins the day. Still, it was risky to go in full-tilt before you’ve become better armed than the average merchant vessel. They pummel you in this fair fight. It’s a Pyrrhic victory—one so costly as to be nearly indistinguishable from defeat.
Your ship is sinking. The one you captured is in tatters, and you’re down to half your crew, a crew who, after this battle, vote for a new captain. And no, it wasn’t Rediker’s idea. That man died in combat.
In a cruel twist on the “Captain always goes down with the ship” mantra, you’re voted to be left on the Deleon’s Revenge by yourself while the remaining crew limps away on the Dos Santos. But on the plus side, you’ll go down in history as one of the most bloodthirsty pirates ever to sail the seven seas.
THE END
Not a Drop to Drink
Spence raises her left eyebrow this time, but doesn’t protest. Instead, she pours James a glass of gin. The clear liquid swirls around the glass like the haze of the desert heat on its way to producing a mirage.
Then she pours your water. The glass shows particulates floating in the brown, translucent sludge, like something that might have been scooped out of the gutter two days after the last rain.
James seems not to notice, especially since a young courtesan comes to sit next to him. She’s small, pert, and fit. His new friend wears a petticoat, clean and neat, though loose in several suggestive places. She laughs and wraps her arms around his.
The seat next to you creaks as someone sits down. You turn to see an older seaman with muttonchops. Spence pours him a drink while you look him over. He’s well-dressed for a seaman, at least by your limited experience, though his garb holds tightly to a frame expanding with recently added weight. Getting a closer look at the man, you see his grey whiskers are stained rust-red around the mouth from habitual tobacco use.
The sailor eyes your bog water, shudders, then says, “Never known a sailor not to drink.”
“I never said I was a sailor,” you answer quietly.
“But I thought ya just arrived in port with your cousin?”
“Indeed I did. But I never claimed to have done so from aboard his ship.”
“I’m just puttin’ ya on!” the man laughs, slapping you on the back. “I know ya didn’t sail in with him. I know you’re no sailor, neither. See, me name’s William Greaves, but when I’m at sea, folks just call me Billy, mate of the Cooper’s Pride. Your cousin sailed with me by the name Jimmy Saltboots!”
At the name, James turns back. “Now, Billy, remember this is family. We don’t tell sea tales in front-o’-wives, children, nor cousins neither.”
“My lips are sealed, Jimmy! I was only makin’ acquaintances.”
“Jimmy… Saltboots?” you say, trying it out.
“Every adventurer needs a larger-than-life persona, surely your library at home taught ya that, coz!” James says and his courtesan laughs for him.
“More adventures await!” Billy offers.
“Not for me, Billy. I ain’t never goin’ back. I have a lifetime’s tales to tell. But tonight, I only want the tail!” At that James downs the rest of his drink, scoops up his lovely companion, and carries her into a back room like a Viking raider might carry a prize after plunder.
“If ’tis for lack-o’-coin you ain’t drinking, I’d be happy to buy a round for the cousin-o’-Jimmy Saltboots,” Billy offers once James is gone.
“No, thank you. I aim to keep a clear head. I’m obliged to help cousin James make it back home this evening.”
Billy gives a knowing grin, chuckles to himself, then goes back to his gin.
“Did I say something funny?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.
“Jimmy ain’t headin’ home. I know, I know what he said. But the sea don’t let a man go so easy.”
“Did something happen to him out there?”
“Certain… events… can weigh on a young man his first time at sea. When half your chums become chum, or an oasis port brings the other half to desertin’. See, ’tis a lonely life, when all’s said and done. If he were here, now, Jimmy would tell you he’s done with life as a Jack Tar, but what he’s soon to learn is that once the sirens call ya out t’sea, that they never truly let ya be. He’ll have his share of drink and lays, but by end-o’-week he’ll be back on the briny fields of destiny, if you’ll pardon an old sailor his romantic notion of things.”
“So… there’s no special reason he’d want to avoid home? No shame, nor secret? No reason to go out, but no reason to stay, something like that?”
“We’re all lost souls, caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea.”
You take a moment to ponder Billy’s words, his reference to Homer’s Odyssey and the sirens not lost on you. That’s the kind of coincidence that those who believe in it would call “fate.”
“I said I’m the mate-o’-the Cooper’s Pride. So it is that we have an opening or two on board, if ya wanna take Jimmy’s spot. She’s a decently fast ship, tight as a drum—and ready to be filled with treasures. Cap’n Bullock’s a fair and honorable man, too, and good, honorable seamen are in short supply. The position comes with a pay advance, of course, which many find helps ease the woes of the family left back home.”
You’re overwhelmed by the unexpected offer, and your thoughts stray from your cousin, if only for a moment. You, a sailor? You’ve dreamed of adventure for so long…
“Where’s she headed?” you ask, wistfully.
“The American colonies,” Billy answers with a knowing twinkle in his eye. “I’m offering you a chance t’see a whole new world.”
Taking a moment to consider, you finally say:
• “You’re kind to think of me so, but indeed I do try to do the honorable thing. In this case, I must deliver my cousin home, whether he’s ready to leave the seafaring life or not.”
• “Sign me up! James won’t be the only adventurer in the family. I’ll need a ream of paper and a goodly sized bottle of ink to draft a letter home, and to keep a journal of my days at sea.”
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
An Offering
The next morning, you head down to check on your swine before pearls, as it were, only to find the animal no longer there. The hempen rope you made is cut and frayed, though if it’s from a knife or chewed through by an animal, you couldn’t quite say.
Did you really expect to leave a pig floating in a pond in the jungle and have it still be there the next day? It’s certainly been eaten, and yo
u’ll likely not get another opportunity like this one for quite some time. Still, whatever ate the meat surely thanked their lucky stars.
Disappointed, you turn back to leave, only to come face to face with a jaguar.
Its golden fur glows tawny in the early light; black splotches break up the outline of the animal, even as it stares at you out in the open. Is this who’s been following you these last few days? Likely so. What was once curiosity to size you up now very well may put you on the menu. What do you do?
• Stand tall, but slowly back away. Speak calmly. Say, “It’s okay, I don’t mean you any harm.”
• Confidently walk towards the jaguar. Lock eyes to show dominance. Say, “This is my island now!”
• Scream loudly to frighten the animal and climb up into the nearest tree for safety.
• Shout, “Look, over there!” and then run in the opposite direction as fast as you can.
• Almost as if in slow motion, remove your pistol and shoot the beast. Can’t get revenge if you’re dead.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Oh, Billy!
Rediker looks truly wounded when you endorse Billy as captain. But, moreover, the rest of the crew looks relieved—including Rediker’s co-conspirators. Uncertainty can be more terrifying than tyranny, and even if Billy was dining on the choicest foodstuffs with Captain Bullock, the men know and respect Billy.
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.
MAROONED: Will YOU Endure Treachery and Survival on the High Seas? (Click Your Poison) Page 23
