Jack, Mowett, and Pullings stood on the deck of the French ship, the Caniche. The captain, a stockily built man named Pierre Cym, paced in front of them.
"What is your name?" he asked suddenly, not looking up.
Jack remained silent. Mowett and Pullings followed his example. Thoughts whirled through Jack's head as he silently took in the weapons, the crew, the build of the ship.
"I asked you a question," said Cym. "Answer me, please. And don't even try to pretend you're French, it's obvious you're not."
"James Wray," lied Jack. "These are my lieutenants, William Allen and John Blakeney. We've been marooned here ever since we were shipwrecked while escorting a merchant vessel."
Captain Cym raised his eyebrows. "Oh, oui? I did not think post captains escorted merchants."
Jack shrugged. "They were carrying important cargo, I suppose. I wasn't told."
"What was the name of your vessel?"
"The Blackwater," Jack said, using the name of a ship he had been promised (and never received) years ago.
"Ah," the captain said. "A fine ship. When did you say you were marooned?"
"About a month ago," Jack answered.
"Then you must not have the same Blackwater," Cym said slyly. "We captured it a year ago. It now is called the Jean-Pierre and is the pride of our Navy. So which ship did you have, monsieur?"
"Ah....." Jack thought hard and fast, trying to think of a good excuse. "We had the second Blackwater," he said, a bit lamely. "Another one was named for the one that was captured, about a month after the original Blackwater was captured."
Captain Cym stared at him with eyebrows raised, politely incredulous. "Oh, oui? I was not aware of it. Anyways, where are my manners? Enough talk. Please, come in to my cabin and sit down. We can talk in there."
Two big, burly-looking men were already making their way over to the cabin in question. Mowett glanced worriedly at Pullings and hesitantly moved forward-and bumped into Jack, who hadn't moved.
"What is it, sir?" Mowett hissed out of the corner of his mouth. Jack gave a small nod to a spot around the bend, clearing not wanting anyone to notice. Mowett and Pullings glanced casually in that direction and grinned. The Surprise was coming around the bend.
The French lookout spotted her seconds later. "English ship at eleven o'clock off the port bow, capitaine!"
The Surprise's cannons spit fire, and cannonballs flew over the water and hit the Caniche just above the waterline. A warning.
"Shoot those three if they try to escape!" screamed the captain, who was now purple with rage. The burly men turned around and leapt for the three officers, who all backed off to the railing.
"What now, sir?" Mowett cried.
"Jump!" Jack bellowed, and threw himself over the side. He began swimming strongly for his ship.
Pullings and Mowett, who were not excellent swimmers, hesitated, each grabbed a splintered chunk of the Caniche's railing, and followed their captain.
Jack felt victory coursing through him as he swam. He dove deep with exhilaration and bumped into something. Surprised, he opened his eyes underwater-and stared with horror at the shark's open jaws before him.