A/N: To guest Uia, I'm glad you enjoyed the rescue chapter. ^_^ Thanks for reviewing again! And thank you guest Lauren for reviewing too!
Song fic requested by 29Pieces, my lovely beta who deserves a commission for keeping up with everything I write. And since she didn't have a preference for fandom, I picked this one.
"Down With the Ship" - Enter the Haggis
Like ships in a squall we rise and we fall
We're plotting our course through the waves
Some masts are tall with sails so strong
Others are tossed in the gale
D'Artagnan stood at the prow of the ship, looking out in wonder at the vast expanse of ocean, as far as the eye could see. He could understand why scholars of the past thought the Earth was flat. It certainly did almost seem like you could sail right to the edge and fall off. If the edge ever came. They'd been at sea for a couple of hours now and other than leaving France's shores behind, it seemed they'd hardly moved at all, as the horizon stayed just as far away out of reach as when they'd set sail.
"This is a nice change of pace," Aramis commented, standing right up at the edge of the bow, hands on his hips like he was the living embodiment of the figurehead just below him, the wind buffeting through his unruly hair.
D'Artagnan shifted uneasily, torn about suggesting he take a step back.
"What's nice about it?" Porthos grumbled, leaning heavily against the side rail, his complexion looking a little gray. "All this rockin's makin' last night's wine sour."
Aramis continued to smile and spread his arms wide. "Take a breath of fresh air, my friend. It's invigorating."
"Aramis," d'Artagnan finally said warningly. All he got was a beaming grin as the marksman finally stepped back.
Aramis went over and clapped a hand on Porthos's shoulder. "You'll find your equilibrium. It's almost like riding."
Porthos scowled. "Horses move up an' down, not sideways."
D'Artagnan gave him a sympathetic look. He'd been off balance when he'd first boarded too, and it'd been a strange sensation but also an exciting one. He'd never been on a ship before and was looking forward to the new experience as they traveled to England to deliver some very important documents.
"Gentlemen," Athos called from the steps to the main deck. "Supper is being served."
Porthos groaned, and Aramis slung an arm over the large man's shoulders to escort him below.
We try to stay dry with salt in our eyes
No moment to rest or complain
The moon isn't far a clear sky and stars
Red sky at morn on your tail
Athos sat on the deck, nursing a bottle of wine and watching the others as Aramis tried to keep Porthos distracted with card games. Fortunately, Porthos hadn't actually been sick; he was just taking a little longer to acclimate to their new environment.
D'Artagnan let out a whoop as he won the round, scooping the pot of coins toward himself.
Porthos tossed his cards down. "I don' like being out in the middle of nothing. It's not natural." He cast a shifty gaze out at the dark waters, invisible under the cover of night with only the slosh and slap against the hull to remind them it was out there.
"We're not in the middle of nothing," Aramis declared. He tipped his head back and gestured to the sky, speckled with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of glittering shards against a sweeping dome of inky backdrop.
"Where else but the highest mountain would you get such a view?" he went on. "Just look at them, Porthos. The Lord fashioned each and every one, gave them names we could never hope to know in this earthly life. But he set them in the sky to guide us in the darkness, and, I think, simply to display his wondrous works. One of the Almighty's love songs to his children." He let out a small, marveled sort of sigh.
There was a moment of silent appreciation as they all turned their gazes upward, mesmerized briefly by Aramis's flowing words.
Then Porthos cleared his throat. "You wanna be alone with 'em?"
D'Artagnan sputtered out a laugh and Aramis shot Porthos a dry glare as they went back to their card game.
Athos leaned against the mast at his back and contemplated the heavens. He didn't pay any heed to the Creation aspect nor cared whether any god was trying to speak to them from on high. The constellations were useful for navigation and marking the seasons.
Still, he had to privately admit they were a sight to see, with no mountains or trees to intrude upon the panorama. This far away in a remote part of the sea, the stars certainly did seem greater than them. Athos couldn't decide if that made him feel small and alone or watched over and part of something bigger.
The next morning, they woke to find they weren't as alone as they thought; a lookout spotted a ship in the distance, not bearing a flag. Athos didn't like it, and went to confer with the captain, but the man assured him no vessel could catch up to them with the wind in their sails.
I'm not going to stand on the end of the pier
I'm not going to let you go down with the ship
Raise up your anchor it's time to set sail
And I'm not going to let you go down
The wind left them. Aramis took his turn looking through the spyglass at the unknown ship as it continued its pursuit trajectory. It was gaining.
He handed the telescope back to Athos. "Seems we're going to have some excitement," he commented and went to retrieve his sword from where his weapons belt lay.
D'Artagnan quirked a confused brow. "Uh, Aramis, they're still a ways off…"
"Which gives us some time to prepare," he replied and gestured with his rapier at Porthos to come over. "Time to find your sea legs, my friend."
Porthos frowned, looking uncertain, but he nevertheless went and picked up his own sword before moving into a dueling position.
Aramis made the sign of the cross with his blade and then advanced. He was light with his strikes, giving Porthos the chance to get a feel for the footwork when the surface beneath your feet wasn't steady.
After a few minutes, Athos tapped d'Artagnan on the shoulder and they went to the other end of the deck to practice as well.
Porthos started to get the hang of it, and Aramis amped up his intensity. Before long they were sparring with the same fervency they engaged in at the garrison yard, and Porthos's face broke into a wide grin.
Aramis gave him a short nod of approval. When that unknown ship finally caught up to them, they'd be ready.
Like ships we were made to dance o'er our graves
One false move and we could be thrown
Buried alive before our due time
To rest at sixty below
The black pirate flag was raised at the last moment as the assailing ship swept up alongside them and fired their cannons. Thunder and smoke filled the air and the deck lurched beneath Porthos's feet, skewing whatever balance he'd found. He caught himself against the railing, the ship jolting again as they returned fire. The captain called his crew to arms.
Aramis fired a pistol across the way, hitting a pirate in the rigging. He shot his second and then cursed as he dropped down for cover. "My supplies for reloading are below deck."
Porthos quickly handed over his pistols. "I'll get it."
He tore across the deck toward the ladder. No sooner had he descended them, however, than a cannon ripped through the nearby mast. Porthos hit the floor hard and was plunged into darkness as debris filled the space above, blocking his exit.
He couldn't worry about that right now though. Picking himself up, he stumbled toward the crew quarters and snatched up the ammunitions bag from Aramis's hammock. Then he headed through the cargo hold toward the stern of the ship and another set of ladders.
He splashed into standing water.
His heart leaped into his throat as he realized there must be a breach in the hull. Not enough to flood the hold instantly, but water on a ship was bad. Porthos barreled toward the opposite end, only to stop short in dismay when he found that exit blocked as well. He was trapped. On a sinking ship.
He whirled in place, wracking his brain for what to do. Sounds of battle echoed above and he nearly roared in frustration that he wasn't up there helping protect his brothers.
He climbed the ladder and tried to wrench a chunk of debris loose, but it was wedged tight. He dropped back down, water sloshing around his ankles. How long would it take whatever hole to widen and more sea water to surge in? Of all the ways he'd expected to go as a soldier, drowning wasn't one of them.
"Porthos!" a voice hollered from above, and he looked up at the grate covered hatch. Aramis's face peered down at him.
"I'm stuck!" he shouted back.
Then Athos was there and he and Aramis flung the hatch open. A rope was tossed down and Porthos frantically grabbed at it. The wound fiber held firm and he began to haul himself up, inch by inch. When he reached the top, hands grabbed his arms and shoulders to pull him out the rest of the way.
Crew members rushed past him, descending into the hold, perhaps to see if they could patch the leak before it got any worse. Porthos hoped so, because he damn well better not die at sea.
So jibe while you can if there's danger ahead
Stay on your course if you will
I'll throw you a line as waves start to rise
And bail as your ship starts to fill
Aramis ran his sword through a pirate's sternum and swiftly yanked it out again to spin and meet the next. They were being overrun, though he doubted these rapscallions expected to find themselves tested against the might of musketeers.
"I strongly advise you surrender," he told the man in front of him.
He was answered with a yellow, tooth-gaped sneer.
"Suit yourself." He dispatched that one quickly enough and turned to survey the situation. The others were handling the pirates who'd swung over, but those cannons were causing severe damage to the ship. They were lucky they weren't sunk yet.
He tapped d'Artagnan's shoulder during a brief lull between opponents. "Care for a change of scenery? We need to stop those cannons."
The boy's brows rose sharply. Aramis leaped onto some crates and jabbed his sword into a pirate just swinging over, relieving him of the rope. With a wink at d'Artagnan, he held fast and launched himself out over the water in an arc. As he passed over the enemy ship, he let go and dropped to the deck, landing in a crouch. Men immediately converged on him and he parried and riposted with ease.
A few moments later, d'Artagnan was at his side, and they started to veer toward the access hatch to the lower decks. They fought their way below, the cannon minders too stunned at their abrupt appearance to put up much of a fight. Then they cut the ropes keeping the cannons aligned and steady so they wouldn't be of further use.
Unfortunately, that made them start to roll back and forth with the lurching of the ship. Aramis jumped out of the way to avoid getting crushed against the hull.
With their task complete, he and d'Artagnan made their way back up top where they found Athos and Porthos had joined them on the pirate side of the skirmish.
"Feeling left out?" Aramis quipped as he and d'Artagnan seamlessly folded into the fray.
"Of all the reckless stunts—" Athos scowled, cutting off to duck a swipe at his neck.
Aramis swooped in to fell the pirate and then spun around so he was back to back with Athos.
It wasn't much later that Porthos and d'Artagnan captured the pirate captain and the rest of his men still standing were ordered to surrender.
Aramis was breathing heavily from the exertion, but he managed a victorious grin. They'd taken the ship.
I'm not going to stand on the end of the pier
I'm not going to let you go down with the ship
Raise up your anchor it's time to set sail
And I'm not going to let you go down
D'Artagnan stood on the quarterdeck of the pirate ship, keeping an eye on the prisoners tied to the masts as the crew from their own ship split between the two to guide both vessels toward safe harbor.
"That was a reckless charge," Athos chided him.
D'Artagnan frowned in indignation. "It was Aramis's idea!"
"Of course it was," Athos said, sounding unsurprised. "But you shouldn't have gone along with it."
"I couldn't very well have let him go alone," he countered.
"And it worked," Aramis said cheekily.
Athos rolled his eyes heavenward as though praying for patience from a God they all knew he had no love or faith in.
"'M never goin' on a sea mission again," Porthos grumbled, arms resting on the handrail.
"Um," d'Artagnan started, "after we reach England, we do have to sail back."
Porthos glowered at him and Aramis patted his shoulder sympathetically.
"You would make a fine pirate, you know," the marksman said. "Wouldn't he, d'Artagnan?"
D'Artagnan canted his head in consideration and nodded.
Porthos huffed. "Knock it off," he muttered.
D'Artagnan couldn't suppress a grin, and neither could Aramis.
Up in the rigging someone called out, "Land ho!"