"Everyone, back to your posts! I want every one of you limp dicks at your posts now! You there, tell the captain! Everyone else, load guns!" he roared at it, venting his anger and horror.
"What's going on here!" the captain immediately asked him as he rushed on deck. The first mate did likewise to the sailor in the lookout and simply pointed silently at the royal frigate approaching them at a terrifying pace. They had underestimated their opponents, that was now certain.
The reproachful look with which the mate punished his captain was simply ignored by the latter. He let his eyes wander thoughtfully around him and then came to a decision.
"Back command! Bring the ship to a standstill," he let it be known, earning more than one incredulous look. However, no one dared to revolt. The captain took the wheel in his own hand and steered the Amethyst's snout towards a narrow passage.
"You're not serious, sir?" the first mate interjected at the sight.
"We're stuck in our own bay if they make it this far. I'm not going to put up with that. We will sail this passage if they can get past the rapids," the captain explained, handing the helm back to the first mate.
"Wait!" the captain spoke urgently to him, "When they come...that way".
Tolerating no argument, he pointed to the seemingly unnavigable narrow crevice between the towering rocks.
Tensely, the first mate's eyes were on the approaching frigate. Every muscle, no matter how small, was electrified and ready to act immediately if necessary.
Slowly but surely he realised that they would make it, come this far, they had already done the hardest part, if they had not run aground by now, they had truly excellent men on board. No, he shook his head reluctantly. No one was capable of circumnavigating these shoals without extensive knowledge of this treacherous path. He himself had needed months of careful observation before he had internalised the passages. No one could be that lucky. He was sure someone on this ship must know the waters.
"They're through. Let's go!" the captain barked.
"I can't do this. This way is not navigable! We'll sink our own ship!" the first mate could not bring himself to send the Amethyst to its certain doom after all.
The release of a pistol reached his ears and shortly afterwards he felt the barrel press against his temple.
"I will not repeat myself. Move. We will not be cornered by the navy in our own bay," the captain said so quietly that it sent shivers down the first mate's spine. This time he dared not hope to escape the bullet.
By continuing to hesitate, he caused the pressure on his head to increase a little more. He had a choice, either his beloved ship or he would not see tomorrow. Unless he could justify the trust the captain placed in his steering skills. When this thought occurred to him, he glanced at his captain and realised in his eyes that he was not the only one here who did not want to put the Amethyst in unnecessary danger. He saw the determination and the unwavering belief in his abilities as a helmsman. Suddenly he knew again why he had so often followed this man into battles without giving it a second thought. The captain knew what he was doing and he knew what each and every one of his men, especially his first mate, were capable of doing. This man had no intention of losing his ship, his booty or any really important member of his crew here. If his captain believed in him, even if he was currently communicating it in a very unique way, then he could do it. Determined, he turned back to the crevice in front of them and instantly noticed the barrel of the pistol coming away from his head in satisfaction.
"Sailor, lend me your eyes!" the first mate called up into the crow's nest.
"Aye, sir!" it answered immediately, before the first information came down to help him navigate. At regular intervals, he also received a brief status on their pursuers. The Amethyst moved slowly and in a controlled manner towards the rift. Sweat beaded from the first mate's forehead as soon as the bow moved the first centimetres between the rocks.
Piece by piece she worked her way forward, except for the voices of the sailor and the first mate, there was dead silence on the Amethyst. Everyone else was either staring spellbound at the large frigate behind them, at the small gap in the water between their side of the ship and the rock face, or at the man at the wheel who was demanding maximum performance from himself.
A startled cry made everyone look up as the sailor in the lookout had to crouch down to avoid a ledge. What the man had just been able to avoid hit the longer of the two main masts with full force. A creaking and crashing accompanied the breaking off of the topmost mast section as the first mate headed against the resistance. Panicked, the men scattered as they saw the piece fall on them. After the fragment left a large notch in the ship's right rail on impact, it fell into the water with a loud splash.
"Who's distressed here now?" the first mate now asked himself ruefully, at the sight of the huge scrape that probably wouldn't be the only one when they got this over with. The sailor in the lookout had picked himself up just in time to warn him of a new danger spot. He reacted with lightning speed and was just able to thwart a grounding. His nerves were on edge, creaking and scratching dangerously here and there. But after several anxious minutes they had actually made it, the Amethyst was back on the open sea.
The first mate breathed a sigh of relief and released his hands, which he had clasped around the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Appreciatively, the captain slapped him on the shoulders.
"Good man! I knew you'd get us out of this. Next time you should have a little more faith in your own outstanding abilities, my boy!" the captain praised him in front of the assembled crew, who immediately fell into a loud approving roar and cheer.
"Let's hope there won't be a next time in that regard," he retorted, glancing at the track behind him.
An amused laugh was the only response his captain gave him before turning to the team.
"It's not over yet. Get ready for a battle, men! Hoist the flag, set sail, prepare the cannons and sharpen your sabres. We now send a royal frigate to the bottom of the sea!" the captain lulled his men with upraised blade, making them hungry for the coming sea battle.
They headed for the entrance and positioned themselves so that they could greet the frigate with a broadside as soon as it dared to venture out of the bay again. Surely the fools would not expect that instead of fleeing, they would be lying in wait for them here. They would have sunk them before they knew it and the first mate had already thought of something very special for the traitor, who was apparently in the enemy ranks, if he was lucky enough to get his hands on him.
Eric could not believe his eyes when he saw the pirate ship fleeing through the narrow cliffs. They had only made it this far because of the rescued captain's extensive knowledge and now their prey had escaped from what they thought was a dead end. He couldn't help but acknowledge this feat, even if he despised the men on this ship for what they were doing, their obvious skill was undeniable.
"We're turning back!" he called down from the quarterdeck where he stood with his helmsman and the consulting captain, to whom he also turned back afterwards, "Would you lend us your experience once more and navigate us back out?"
With an eager nod, he immediately began to pass on instructions to the helmsman again and pointed warningly to some places that had to be circumnavigated. The exit turned out to be much easier than the entry, the currents no longer worked against the ship but much more for it. But the others had gained a not inconsiderable lead on their escape through their daring manoeuvre. The frigate of the royal house would be able to make up for this on the open sea, of that Eric was sure. What he had not expected at all, however, was to see the black flag with the white skull and crossbones fluttering in the wind as soon as they had passed the strait again. Just in the last moment it had taken to realise that it was now they who had been lured into a trap, he was able to shout words of warning across the deck, urging his crew to seek shelter from the volley of cannonballs bearing down on them. When the hail of bullets was extinguished for the time being, there was an instant bustle of activity on and below deck of the naval frigate. The crew was getting ready for a counter-attack. One of the sailors quickly gave Eric a brief report on the damage sustained. A smaller mast had been hit and was in danger of collapsing if hit again, furthermore there was a large hole in their side, but so far above water that it should not cause them any problems for the time being. More serious was the fact that two of the men had been hit by splintering wood, one more and the other less seriously injured. Eric ordered the two men to be taken to the ship's doctor immediately and treated, he could not and would not afford any more losses in his crew. Only a few minutes later, the next hail of bullets hit them, which they in turn answered with a good volley. However, due to their inferior position caused by the element of surprise, they did not inflict half as much damage as their opponents. Pushing his men, they quickly manoeuvred the big ship into deeper water and once there, they finally had their enemies within reach. The two ships pushed past each other, giving each other a broadside. The pirates used the time to reload to wedge their grappling hooks into the side of the frigate. With terrifying cries, the first men swung onto the enemy deck, where they instantly went into hand-to-hand combat with their weapons drawn. It took the crew of the frigate a few seconds to counter the unexpected onslaught. Soon, however, the clang of clashing blades interspersed with scattered pistol shots could be heard across the deck. Chaos reigned on deck and no one seemed to be able to say for sure who had the upper hand in this battle.
Eric's eyes, meanwhile, were fixed in terror on a single point. There on the bow of the enemy ship he had spotted his godson and what he saw made him boil with rage. With a hateful scream, he grabbed the rigging and cut the taut rope with his drawn sword to swing himself over to the other ship. Some of his men saw him swing in an arc aboard the Amethyst and followed his example shortly afterwards. As soon as his feet came back up, he confronted some of the pirates remaining on board. With his swordsmanship learned from childhood, he had an easy time with the first men. A few lunges and feints later, he had disarmed the three pirates who immediately charged at him without much thought and even let one of them go overboard. Having fended off the first wave, Eric immediately set out to help his nephew. But he didn't get far, as a drawn blade cut him off.
"Not so fast, your highness," a deep smoky voice joined the blade flashing in the sunlight. Eric looked up and found himself face to face with the pirate captain himself. A nasty grin graced his features as he delivered the first blow without much ado. Eric backed away with a leap, but couldn't quite escape the tip of the sabre and got a scratch that instantly drenched his white uniform in red. A soft hiss escaped him before he prepared to launch a counter-attack. The two opponents engaged in a fierce battle in which neither allowed his opponent even the slightest respite. Blows and blows pelted each other and were often only deflected at the very last moment. The two moved in a deadly dance across the deck, from one side of the ship to the other. Every now and then Eric dared to send a glance over to where he knew his nephew was, but was quickly reminded by his aching wound to keep his mind on the battle. Added to this was the pirate captain's confident, booming laughter that rang out as soon as he made the slightest mistake. Fleetingly, he glided his gaze over the battlefield on one occasion to get an idea of the situation, and what he saw gave him courage. His men seemed to be giving the pirates a good fight, neither side had suffered any major casualties yet, but that it would stay that way was wishful thinking, which Eric did not want to indulge in. They had to end this fight as quickly as possible, the more time they gave the experienced crew to board the ship, the worse their chances would be. To achieve this, his own victory over their captain was an inevitable prerequisite. If the pirate captain lost, his men would surrender too. It took time, but Eric finally recognised a pattern in his opponent's attacks and a small weakness that should not be underestimated. The man in front of him was dragging his left leg so minimally that an untrained eye would probably never have noticed it. But this gave Eric the advantage he had been longing for. At the next opportunity, he used the knowledge he had gained over the course of the battle and delivered a well-aimed blow that finally brought the pirate to his knees. Enraged, the pirate lunged and, in a last desperate stand, struck at Eric's legs. With a leap, he was just able to avoid being swept off his feet. As soon as he had the ground under him again, he pointed his blade at the other's throat. Instantly the fighters froze and turned their gazes on the two.
"Surrender!", Eric urged him and his men.
Grumbling, the pirate let go of his sabre and demonstratively pushed it out of his reach. Spellbound by the spectacle, none of those present noticed how the first mate of the downed captain made his way to the bow of the ship. With a small dagger, he tampered with the bonds that held Ares to the wooden mermaid and finally yanked him towards him, the sharp short blade pressed against his neck.
"Never!" the first mate's voice rang out across the deck, immediately drawing the eyes of all to him and the mermaid boy in his iron grip.
"Un...cle E...ric," Ares pleaded fearfully in a brittle low voice for his godfather's help.
"Ares!" escaped Eric at the sight, awkwardly disregarding the man at his feet entirely for a brief moment. The pirate captain took advantage of the welcome distraction and reached into his frock coat. A moment later he held his noble pistol in his hands and pointed it at Eric.
"It is you who should surrender, your highness," came from the man on the ground, causing Eric to let his gaze wander back. With his left index finger, the pirate captain slid Eric's sword from his neck. A mean grin graced his features as he gestured to his pistol, which he held ready to fire in his right hand at Eric. So the tables had turned again that quickly. Eric thought hard about how he could regain the upper hand, but he could not think of anything. He had come so far. How could he have been so careless and let himself be deprived of a sure victory? Not only Ares' life was at stake, but also that of his men and his own.
