Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Carribean.
The ship rocked harshly under the fire of her main guns. Each shot shook every portion of the boat. Each shot sent a wave of ripples through the sails. And, each shot sent a cloud of smoke billowing into the air. But, every shot meant almost nothing. The behemoth kept approaching no matter what they did. Each attack was more useless then the last. Finally, the immense thing was right beside them. It appeared to be a great blue whale, dead, decaying, and still moving under its own power. On its back, and glimpsed through gaping holes in the creatures flesh, where men who weren't men. Each stood stooped over, bits of their body falling off as they worked. Each wore a wicked grin that showed off their razor like teeth, and each pointed a rifle at the merchant vessel.
Shots were heard in the Captain's Quarters. The men who had blocked themselves off in there could even hear the peck of the shots as they hit the wooden hull. Finally, they heard the one thing they didn't want to hear. The raising of the intruder alert. The tallest man among them, who appeared to be their leader, stood and looked at his followers. "May God have mercy on our souls for what we have brought upon this world." He started, holding the cross in his hand tighter. "But, we cannot stay in hear like cowards, while the brave men aboard this vessel die fighting something they have never before seen!"
The man turned toward the door, and drew from his belt an aged blade. One covered in rust spots and nicks. "Today we fight, and die in the name of God!" He shouted as he opened the door and ran out into the thick of battle.
His followers continued to huddle in the room, but were now staring, dumbfounded, at the open door. One of them straightened up, and looked at his companions. "He's dead."
The man holding a cross in one hand, and a rusted sword in the other, took one of the monstrous' mens head right off its shoulders. The ghoul dropped to the ground, and ceased to move, though the head kept snapping at those passing near it. The priest twisted and turned like a dancer, nimbly avoiding several of the ghoul's bitting jaws, slashing claws, and flashing blades. He swung his weapon only when a decapitating shot was available, and slew many of the beasts.
The Captain, and a small group of crew men looked to the priest, they watched his fluid motions, and quickly learned how to deal with the beasts. Those men with pistols left fired their shots directly into the skulls of the approaching ghouls, and the remainder of the men aimed cutlasses, cudgels, even hand held cannon balls at the skulls of their adversaries. Many ghouls died, but the discovery came far too late.
The beast smiled to himself as he looked at the high stacked barrels of gun powder. His mission would soon be complete. The beast smiled, its lips torn off earlier, as it lifted a black powder pistol into position. It knew the blast would kill it, as well as every other person on the ship, but...
A second thought struck the creature. It wondered why should it destroy itself for the glory of another? Why should it pull the trigger, and doom itself to a vicious second death? But, it only lasted for a moment. The glee of mayhem returned to the creatures eyes, and it pulled the trigger.
The tiny lead ball rocketed out of the pistol's short barrel, and embedded itself into a barrel of gun powder. The powder ignited, and flames erupted. The fire caused a chain reaction that blew apart each barrel in the powder magazine. The explosion consumed the ghoul, as it knew it would, and the back half of the ship blew apart. The priest's followers were consumed by the conflagration, as were the captain and his men. The priest was blasted out into the open sea. His body was burned, broken, and bleeding, but he was alive, and he knew, as consciousness was slipping away from him, that he would have to warn the world about what he had unleashed.