“Fire away, me hearties!” called out the voice of Captain Severand.
He watched the scene before him unfold with a toothy grin and puffed chest. Cannon fire rang out upon the once serene ocean that stretched to the distant skies. Their enemy, the French ship Lionshead, had made a grave mistake by turning it's stern toward Severand's many cannons that lined the hull. He witnessed as several holes splintered the end of Lionshead.
“This is what being a man really feels like, meboy!” he called out to his left while simultaneously planting a heavy hand upon the ward's shoulder.
In that fleeting moment, he couldn't be more proud of his son. He turned to face him, his boy's rugged features and sharpened eyes coming to bear before him. He saw his son smile at him, his brow knitting together in concentration. Severand watched the boy's calloused, cracked hands run over the hilt of his Scimitar coolly.
“They will be upon us soon, father,” he spoke with a broad smile.
The older pirate gave a single nod, turning his attention back to the battle to come. The captain of the Lionshead likely knew his fate, for he was circling toward them in desperation. More explosions rung out beneath their feet as numerous craters lined the enemy ship's sides and mast. Severand drew his weapon – a long, professionally crafted Cutlass – at witnessing the first sign of ropes being tossed onto their ship's floor. His crew, a gangly bunch of drunken brawlers, approached the future battle with blades gleaming in the bright sunlight. Pistol fire rang out as golden-coated French privateers started the journey toward the fray.
“To battle, meboy!” Severand called out while stepping toward the fray, “An finger lost today is a healthy brag tomorrow!”
At that, Severand descended quickly from the wheel. His own crew had begun furiously clamoring across the ropes, leaving his own ship relatively empty. With expert, agile movement, he dug beneath his long coat and procured his pistol. He fired once at the nearest Frenchman, quickly pulling back the hammer and firing again. He grinned widely at seeing the terrified opposition. Each wore a look of supreme fear, each of them fighting off his large, muscled pirates with desperation. He took a large step toward the ropes, to join his comrades in glorious combat.
Something held him back. A crippling pain filled him, causing him to grunt loudly. His weapon slid from his hands and fell noiselessly to the floor. Time seemed to slow and sharpen as he felt the warmth of blood flowing out of him. His knees struck the harsh wood of the hull while strength was rapidly leaving him. A great shock racked his chest at seeing whom had dealt a fatal blow upon his back. His son was standing over him, those piercing eyes alight with glee.
“My son, why-”
“You never cared about me,” he began, his eyes narrowing, “My desires meant nothing to you. I never wanted to be this way; my whole life has been what you wanted!”
He ripped the weapon from Severand's body, causing him to grunt again. He fell face first into the floor. Sounds were wavy and uneven within his head. He felt a presence over him.
“Goodbye, father,” his son said with darkened tone, “I will see to it this ship is torn and burned in your name.”
No comments:
Post a Comment