Dead of night.

The dark of the moon.

They floated into the bay on the high of the tide.

Their cannons were loaded, ready to fire.

They knew their target, they knew exactly where to look.

Their only mistake was that when they arrived in the bay the jetty was empty.

It was a mistake they would not let be the better of them as they turned port side to the shore and readied themselves to fire their cannons.

But it was too late, the sentry towers fired first. Five towers, their only purpose to protect.

Cannon balls landed in the waters around them, at the same time two rows of cannons began firing towards shore, their target not the defending sentries but the fortress tall beyond the big stone wall.

They would take the cannon fire from the smaller sentry cannons, nothing but a direct hit would sink the massive ship.

The fortress shook with every cannonball that slammed into it’s walls, one after another cracking the facade but not breaking it’s backbone.

Aboard the ship they knew better than to hang around, their primary target was missing and they had little hope of taking out the entire fortress, theirs was better to flee to fight another day than it was to be beaten on the bay of another crew.

Their final strike came from the top deck, something long with a trailing tail flying towards the shore.

The Privateer and the Revenge sailed back into port, one after the other through the heads less that a hundred feet separated them. After two weeks at sea battling pirates, looting ships and raiding ports the crews were on a high. Their final battle may have not have been the success that was planned but it did set them up for future battles, battles they would without a doubt win.

When the ships were finally moored at the jetty the crew would be able to rest, but not for long as there was repairs to be made, the Revenge was in worse condition than the Privateer given their final battle had seen the rear mast damaged and had them limping home, but all shall be fixed before the new moon was rising.

As the darkness crept in from the east the two ships edged towards their moorings, both captains knew something wasn’t right, they could feel it, sense it, but in the looming darkness they could not see it.

Before the mooring ropes had hit the wooden boards of the jetty Two Toes Goldy came running along the jetty screaming for the Good Captain, trying his best to ensure it was his call that got the captains attention first.

“Aye matey, wha’ be wit’ th’ fuss ‘n th’ haste.” The Good Captain called down as the Privateer nudged itself against the jetty.

“Aye cap’n I needs t’ be natterin’ t’ ye immediately. Permission t’ board th’ ship.” Two Toes called.

The Good Captain knew that if Two Toes was rushing anywhere it was of utmost importance. The guy may no longer have been a sea going pirate but he was to be trusted and had earned nothing but the highest regard of the Good Captain in his many years of service.

As the gang plank crashed down onto the the jetty the Good Captain called down to Two Toes. “I shall be thar meself in but a few seconds.”

The Good Captain and the Fair Maiden had barely made three steeps along the jetty before Two Toes was upon him and telling the story of the previous night where the then unknown ship had entered the bay and broken fire upon the castle. Captain Bildgepoole joined them part way through the conversation but heard enough to know what was going on.

Two Toes reported how the sentries, of which he was manning the main one, had returned fire until the ship had been wounded and chosen to flea. He told of the damage sustained the walls and the castle, much of which had been already started to be repaired by the land borne crew. But it wasn’t until the worst of all the stories had been told that Two Toes finally dropped the bomb shell that the two captains needed to hear.

“Upon th’ decks we found thar callin’ card, th’ scoundrels wanted up t’ know who did it ‘n why.” Two Toes said to the two captains.

“Th’ scoundrels will now feel th’ cold edge o’ justice’s blade.” called the Good Captain

Two Toes went on to explain the message that was found wrapped and tied around the wooden handle of a trident that had been launched towards shore and become wedged into the wooden deck of the jetty.

The message written on a torn piece of sail accused the Good Captain and his men of treason. Treason against the one man that the Good Captain could never show any mercy, the evil and barbaric Captain Morgan.

The Good Captain knew the message had not come from the evil bastard himself, there was no way Captain Morgan would ever rise again, not even his ghost would rise after the death that the Good Captain had delivered. The message had to be coming from someone else, but who?

Then he realised it didn’t matter who it was leading the charge, they would find him, they would find the crew and they would not rest until their job was complete. However it was a job the Good Captain could not let them complete.

“Who would be doing such a thing?” The Fair Maiden asked as confused as Captain Bildgepoole. She knew it was an obvious sore point and one her good captain may not yet be willing to answer but she, like the rest of the crew, would need answers before long.

“He feels sold out ‘n betrayed. He thinks he was unfairly attacked ‘n besieged. Thinks our attack made ‘im an outcast refused o’ his honour.”

Previous Pirate story here.