"Anything to report, Pinkerton?" Daniel called up to the man in question, who was on watch.
"There's a ship approaching on the port side, sir," Pinkerton shouted in reply, leaning out over the edge of the crow's nest to be heard better. He lifted his spyglass back up to his eye for a better look and exclaimed "Bloody hell! It's the Blood Shrike!" Beside Daniel, the helmsman, Jonathan Juniper, made a whimpering sound. He was sixteen and green as spring grass, but his aptitude for seafaring was greater than anyone's except perhaps Daniel's.
"Is there a problem, Jonathan?" Daniel asked, turning to him.
"For-forgive me for being forward sir," he stammered in a quavering voice, "but haven't you heard the stories?"
"I don't believe I have," Daniel replied. "Please, enlighten me. What have you heard about the ship that approaches us? Who captains it?"
"None other than Bloody Maggie Carter, the most feared pirate ever to sail the seven seas," Jonathan said. His voice dropping to a whisper, he added, "Rumor has it the sails of her ship are dyed red with the blood of English sailors." Daniel laughed.
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," he said. "Surely you don't believe that."
"I don't know that I believe it exactly, sir," Jonathan replied carefully, "but nevertheless, I do not wish to take chances. I strongly recommend that we change our course." Daniel fixed him with a stern glare.
"You have heard of how I came to be captain of this vessel, correct?" he asked.'
"Yes sir," Jonathan replied. "Of course sir, but-"
"Then surely you know that I have no fear of pirates, and that I intend to give them no quarter should we encounter them on this voyage?"
"Yes," Jonathan replied, "but… Bloody Maggie takes no prisoners. If she catches us...we'll all be killed."
"Then at least we will die on our feet like men, not begging like dogs for her mercy or trying to flee like so many frightened deer," Daniel said fiercely. "Maintain the course, helmsman."
"But-"
"Maintain. The. Course."
"Yes sir." Stepping away from the helm, Daniel cried "Jarvis!"
"Yes Captain?" Jarvis asked, stepping forward from his position at the prow of the ship. "What are your orders?"
"Tell the crew to man their battle stations," Daniel told him. "Make sure there are people on the cannons. If it comes to a fight, I want to be prepared."
"Yes sir," Jarvis said with a respectful dip of his head. "Consider it done."
"Pinkerton!" Daniel called when Jarvis had gone. Pinkerton's square jawed face appeared over the edge of the crow's nest.
"Yes Captain?" he asked.
"How far is that ship from us?" Daniel said, answering Pinkerton's question with one of his own.
"I'd say about two knots, sir," Pinkerton replied, peering through his spyglass to make sure.
"And how long before it reaches us?" Daniel asked.
"Well, it's moving frightfully fast," Pinkerton answered, still peering through his spyglass. "I would guess not more than a few minutes."
"Very well," Daniel said, nodding. "Brace for impact. This could get ugly." Pinkerton nodded once, a quick, birdlike motion, then drew back away from the edge of the crow's nest. A few minutes later, Jarvis emerged from below decks. At the exact same instant, Pinkerton screamed "Incoming!" before his cry was cut short by the sound of chain shot tearing through mast and rigging, leaving destruction in its wake. With a splintering crack, the crow's nest separated from the main mast and plummeted toward the deck, taking Pinkerton with it. It landed with a sound of thunder and shattered wood, splinters flying everywhere. Pinkerton's limp, still form rolled out of the crow's nest into the open, and Daniel knew with terrible certainty that he was dead.
The sharp retort of a gunshot echoed through the air and Jonathan slumped forward against the ship's wheel, a musket ball hole in his head. Daniel glanced over at the attacking ship. There was a man in its crow's nest, he saw, but as high up as he was and with the afternoon sun behind him it was impossible to make of him out except a silhouette and the occasional flash of sunlight off of dark brown hair.
As if the gunshot had been some sort of signal, Daniel's ship was suddenly being overrun with pirates, swinging across on ropes, climbing up the sides with grappling lines, running across on the plank they'd laid between the two ships. Two of them went for Pinkerton, clearly intending to loot his body, and Daniel shot them both, seething with rage at their callous disrespect for the dead, He turned back toward the attacking ship in time to see a man leap from it to the Dauntless, completely ignoring the plank laid between the two ships. He landed on the Dauntless's deck with a thump, dropping into a crouch like a pouncing cat. He straightened, spotted Jarvis, who was still standing near the entrance to below decks, watching the chaos around him in shock, and charged toward him. Jarvis saw him coming and scrambled out of his way, but too late. Quick as a striking snake, he caught Jarvis' shoulder, drew his cutlass, and slashed it across Jarvis' throat with a savage yell. Jarvis fell in a spray of blood, splattering the man's face with crimson droplets, but he seemed not to notice or care. Daniel turned away, sickened by this display of brutality, and that was when he saw it-an opportunity to save his ship. A woman was standing on the deck of the attacking ship. From the way the few members of its crew that remained on board were deferring to her, Daniel knew that she had to be the captain, the pirate Jonathan had told him about. If he killed her, the pirates would be left without a leader and therefore with no direction, and then he might be able to rally whichever members of his crew remained alive and drive them off his ship. That the captain might have had some sort of lieutenant who could take over command of the ship if she was killed did not occur to Daniel in his desperate, half panicked state. He eyed the woman on the deck of the attacking ship while he reloaded his pistol, contemplating the shot he would have to make. It was a difficult one, even for someone with his training, but he refused to even consider the possibility that he might miss. Failure was not an option at this point. Success might save his ship, but failure would surely doom it and everyone on it.
His weapon loaded, Daniel took a deep breath and took aim at the captain of the attacking ship. He was about to pull the trigger when someone grabbed him from behind and shoved a cutlass against his throat.
"Drop it," an angry voice hissed in his ear. When he hesitated, his aggressor pressed something against the side of his head, a flintlock pistol by the feel of it.
"Drop it," the voice repeated. This time, Daniel obliged, his weapon falling to the deck with a thud.
"Now get on your knees," his aggressor growled, pushing him down so that he had no choice but to obey. He dropped to the deck beside his discarded weapon and awaited his fate in silence, acutely aware of the dead that surrounded him.