Zack had been in his cabin with Hopkins translating the map when he felt the ship jerk hard to port and raced to the deck to see exactly who had just run them aground. "Ship right off the bow, Captain!" the helmsman yelled, pointing to his right. Zack could have nearly spit on the other ship from where it was.

"She just came out of a squall, Captain," a deckhand said as he ran up to the wheel, "and was nearly on us."

Zack pulled his spyglass from his coat and peered across the short distance. He watched as men with muskets approached the railing and felt his blood run cold as he saw a Spanish flag being hoisted. "Pirate hunter," he said as he drew his cutlass. "Load the guns!" The deck became a whirl of action as men raced belowdecks to man the cannons. "Hopkins! The wheel," he said to his most trusted crewmate, "get us in firing position as quickly as possible." Pirate hunters weren't generally patient people and they'd be more than happy to sink Zack's ship as quickly as possible.

"Fire fire fire!" Zack yelled as soon as Hopkins had him in position, pointing his sword at the vessel off their starboard bow. He felt the deck shake beneath his feet as each cannon on that side of the ship erupted in flame and smoke, fifteen cannonballs ripping the air and racing across the short distance between the two ships. Zack cheered as nearly half of the volley struck home and sent men and shattered planks flying into the air. "Reload!"

"Do you think we can outrun them, sir?" Hopkins asked him as he steered the ship hard to port to throw off the aim of the expected return volley.

"Doubtful, but if we can get far enough ahead of them by sunset we might have a chance." Left unsaid in the exchange was any talk of surrender. Not a soul on the Queen Carey's Revenge had any plan on spending the next forty years of their lives rotting away in some Spanish prison. They'd all go down with the ship before that happened; such was the life of a pirate.

The pirate hunter returned fire but all the shot landed wide. "Fire!" Zack screamed again. The two ships traded blows for the next half hour as the sun slowly set. Zack's ship had escaped major damage but after the initial volley the majority of his shot missed as well.

"Load starboard and port guns," he said and the message was relayed below. "Hopkins, as soon as we fire I want this boat swung around so we can get them with the other guns. If this doesn't work we'll set to outrun them in the night." Hopkins nodded and wiped the sweat from his brow. Zack put a hand on his shoulder as he noticed the lad shaking. "We're almost out of this." Hopkins nodded as bravely as he could.

The starboard guns belched their flame and fury and the wheel was cut less than a second later and everyone on deck grabbed onto something as the ship groaned against the hard turn. "Ready...ready...FIRE!" he yelled as they'd lined up for the perfect broadside. The other fifteen guns opened up and sent destruction at the pirate hunter.

A small explosion shook the hunter and flames burst into life all across the deck. Zack was about to congratulate his men on a wonderful job when another, much more powerful, explosion ripped the ship in two. Zack's mouth hung open as a fireball shot hundreds of feet into the air. No one on deck uttered a word as pieces of the boat began to rain back down onto the sea.

"Direct hit on their powder magazine, Captain?" Hopkins asked him finally.

"I think so, mate, I think so."

They sailed on for a while, everyone too amped on adrenaline to settle down for the evening. Eventually Zack made his way back to his quarters with Hopkins and they finished their work on the map.

"So that's it? You're sure?" he asked Hopkins.

"Aye, sir."

"Wonderful," Zack said with more than a bit of sarcasm.

"It is really close to the Main, isn't it, Captain?"

"Too close for my likings, Hopkins."

"We aren't going after it?"

"Oh no, we're certainly going after the treasure, Hopkins. If it's anything like I'm imagining, we can find this treasure of Calypso and live out the rest of our time without ever having to lift a finger again." The two shared a grin. "Think of it...Rum by the boatload, the finest food money can buy...all ours for the taking." He sighed. "I just wish it wasn't so close to where so many people want to hang me."

"Where should I set course to, Captain Sparrow?" Hopkins asked after a thoughtful moment. Going that close to the mouth of the beast was dangerous but Captain Sparrow had never steered them wrong before.

"Port Royal first, Hopkins. We'll take on supplies there and then set sail for Panama."

"Very good, sir. I'll see to it myself before I turn in." He made to leave but stopped in the doorway. "Perhaps we should paint the ship while we're in port? Change the sails? Just in case we run across any of our friends?"

"Good lad, Hopkins," Zack said as he stood up. "We'll do that." Hopkins left, gently closing the door behind him, and Zack stretched his arms over his head. It had been a long and draining day and he was nearing the point of exhaustion.

"The Spanish Main," he said to himself as he took his jacket off and hung it on the back of the chair. "Of all the places...why not anywhere else but there?" He forced a grin onto his face. "I'm Captain Zack Sparrow, I can walk in there, dazzle the natives, find the treasure, and get back out before they even know I'm in the neighborhood. And I'll be rich."

Thoughts of his brother suddenly crowded into his happy reverie. What was he doing back here, anyway? Hadn't he taken a post back in England with the King or something? Zack sighed as he kicked his boots off. He'd have to find Cody once he retrieved that treasure and have a long talk with him, that was for certain. He raised the glass on the oil lamps and blew the flames out. Sleep was upon him moments after he laid down for the night and dreams of riches and barrels of rum and incredible sunsets danced through his sleeping mind.

A red and white flag fluttered in the dim light as the ship approached Jamaica. Port Royal was still at least a hundred and fifty miles off but the crew already imagined that they could see the lights of the city in the distance. It had been a long cruise, first from England with a convoy of troop ships to reinforce the colony of Barbados and then a pitched battle with two French frigates off the coast of Martinique, and they were in bad need of supplies and repairs. They'd sent the two French ships to the bottom but took a harsh beating of their own.

The young captain stood on the bow and stared off into the distance. The stress of the voyage and his orders creased his youthful face and he exhaled loudly into the breeze. He was lost in thought and didn't notice as his lieutenant came up behind him.

"Commodore Martin, you should get some rest. I think the ship will still be in one piece if you grab a few hours sleep. I'll wake you at sun up."

"I will shortly, thanks." He turned and watched the man walk back to his post before turning back to the water. He took his hat off and let the wind blow through his hair.

"Zack, wherever you are, please stay out of my way," he said to the waves, "I don't want to do this." Cody gave the choppy sea one final glance and made his way across the deck of the ship. He returned the salutes from his men and climbed the stairs to his cabin.

He stripped his uniform off and hung it neatly on the pegs before sitting at his desk. His eyes were immediately drawn to a folded piece of parchment that he'd read and reread a hundred times since he'd broken the wax seal back in London. He knew it by heart but couldn't help but read it again in hopes that it would have changed some way, no longer saying what made his heart heavy.

Commodore Martin, it read, you are hereby ordered, as part of the recent peace treaty with Spain, to arrest Zack Sparrow and his crew and return them to England to stand trial for countless acts of piracy against the vessels of Imperial Spain. In the event that he resists, the use of deadly force is authorized. Godspeed, Commodore.

Lord Theodore Wyscombe,

12 May, 1671.