Episode 13

The Storm

Almost the entire crew were crowded onto the deck: sitting, standing, and dangling from the rigging in creaking silence. It was the day after the battle, and the ship and many of the crew were worse for wear. The wind was not blowing but, on the horizon, a storm rumbled and spat flashes of light.

Worley stood, held by a pirate on either side, wrapped and roped to his neck in his shroud. Molly stood before him, Polly and the master gunner to one side.

“Tomas T. Worley, by unanimous vote of the pledged, you are hereby sentenced to be unceremoniously shot. If you have anything to say be quick about it.”

Lieutenant Worley stared back at the crowd of the crew, proud and defiant. “I did what I did and I’d do it again,” the ram shouted hoarsely. “None of you can say contrary.”

Molly gestured to the pirates holding him and they hooded him. With a few quick heaves of a rope, Worley was raised until suspended above the backboard railing. He looked like a hanging parcel.

Molly took the musket from the gunner. She aimed it at Worley. And she shot him.

Worley jerked slightly and was still. No one cheered or made any kind of sound. There wasn’t even any blood, just a mark in the white canvas where the shot had hit.

Molly gave the weapon back to the gunner.

Everyone watched as the body was lowered to the railing, released from the rope, and awkwardly tipped over the edge.

Molly waited for the splash.

She looked around at everyone. “A double ration of rum or nibi,” she said. “Remember that day. Then we get back to work. We’ll auction the gear tomorrow.”

Tortoise leant against the gunwale near the figurehead, staring into the waters, which were starting to get choppy. No one seemed concerned. The pirates were drinking, joking, and gambling a little too loudly—a double ration seemed to be quite a lot. Tortoise had even seen Molly drinking a small cup of rum and laughing at something Polly had said.

One of the marines, a big, bluff man, came over to him with a cup in his hand. “You doin’ alright there, lad?” he said, clapping him on the back.

“I guess so,” Tortoise said doubtfully. “I don’t know.”

“First blood’s always tough,” he said. “You’ll be right.”

“Who was Lieutenant Worley?” Tortoise asked. “No one’s said.”

“A babblin’ man’s a dead man,” he said, tapping his nose. “Every able sailor on this ship took the pledge and that’s all to be said about it. We seen what happens to ships without discipline. Let’s just say he wasn’t the most popular sheep in the show and we’re glad to see the back of ‘im.”

Some of the pirates started a sea shanty.

The marine looked down at Tortoise. “Really, though. You alright?”

“I guess I just don’t know what’s going to happen,” Tortoise said.

“None of us do, lad,” he said seriously. “But there isn’t a ship in the world I’d rather be on. I’d sail into Hell with Captain Polly.”

Tortoise looked out at the approaching storm.