The Captain's day cabin. For the Resolute's commanding officer, this room was a place of solitude and comfort. But for Thomas, it was little better than an interrogation chamber. His hands were behind his back, bound tightly to a dining chair, as were his ankles. The chair itself was secured to a bulkhead in order to prevent it from sliding across the deck. Thomas' weapons rested on a nearby table. Broken glass littered the deck across from him, and Thomas realized that the Mary's own guns had inflicted the damage. Where was the Mary now? Had she escaped? Had Aldo? From his current position, all the Irishman could do was hope for the best.

Thomas heard a lock disengage. The cabin door opened. Admiral Bancroft stepped through, followed by a seaman. Thomas assumed that the sailor was Bancroft's personal steward. Ignoring the shattered glass, Bancroft walked up to his captive and stood before him, arms crossed behind his back. The medals and adornments on Bancroft's pristine uniform shimmered in the sunlight. One such adornment, Thomas noticed, bore a red Templar cross. An officer's sash was tied around Bancroft's waist, along with a sword belt, from which hung a smallsword with a golden hilt. A serious, calculating gaze stared Thomas down. Fighting the urge to look away, Thomas returned the stare, hoping to display his solid resolve to the equally unflinching officer.

"Thomas McNally, Captain of the Forsaken," said the Admiral, clearly disapproving of his captive's title. "It's not a pleasure to have you aboard."

"Then I don't thank you for your hospitality, Admiral Damion Bancroft," replied Thomas. "I would shake your hand were my own not tied down."

"You needn't bother, boy. I don't shake hands with criminals. I hang them."

"Is that what you have planned for me? An execution without a trial?"

"Perhaps. But first, let us understand each other. You raided my home on Cat Island. While there, you took my family hostage. Smart. Therefore, you know plenty about me, and what I'm capable of. And I know you. Captain Winston spoke highly of you, Thomas. A farmer's son, a mere landsman, who applied himself and earned a place in the wardroom. A few more months of service and you could have earned yourself a commission. Sadly, that was not to be. When the Prince fell under attack, you deserted to Edward Kenway's crew. Do you know just what Captain Kenway is?"

"Aye. He's a pirate," answered Thomas, stating an obvious fact.

"Indeed," the Admiral continued. "A successful one as well. Dozens of vessels have been looted by his crew of renegades, filling both their pockets and Kenway's. He is among the wealthiest men in the Caribbean. But there is more to Edward Kenway than piracy. Mr. McNally, what do you know of the Assassins?"

Thomas paused a moment. "They're a myth. A story to frighten children."

Bancroft shook his head. "You lie," he said in a condescending tone. "We both know that the Assassins are an order that pursues ancient relics of immense power. Kenway would inevitably share that knowledge with you. Edward Kenway is a member of the Assassin Brotherhood. Now if he is an Assassin... what am I?"

Thomas knew that lying would get him nowhere with the Admiral. The man was far more educated than Thomas first suspected. How much information had Mr. Weschester relayed to Bancroft before his death?

"You're a Templar."

A faint smile flashed across the Admiral's lips. "Correct. Now, I must ask what you know about Pieces of Eden."

"Ancient artifacts made a vanished people. Supposedly they have godlike powers. Never have I seen one, but Edward Kenway believes you know where to find such a relic. I'm guessing that when the Assassins discovered you owned a Piece of Eden - or could locate one - you sent Captain Winston to silence them. It's rare for a ship like the Prince to be dispatched to the West Indies alone. Then along came Edward Kenway, who destroyed HMS Prince and disrupted your plans."

"You are well informed, Mr. McNally. Perhaps you could tell me where to find Edward Kenway?"

"I don't know where he is," Thomas answered truthfully.

"A pity. Perhaps some time alone will refresh your memory. For now, I must attend to the battle. Your allies won't defeat themselves, after all."

With that, Bancroft turned and departed the cabin. The steward followed his commander, leaving the defeated pirate alone in the admiral's day room.

Following their flight from the Resolute, the Mary and her crew had rejoined the battle. Despite their considerable firepower, the fight wasn't going well for the pirates. The Champion, believed to be the pirate flagship, was taking heavy fire from the Royals. She was exchanging broadsides with two frigates, both of which were firing faster than her. A third frigate appeared ready to attempt a boarding on the stricken pirate ship. Upon spotting this, Captain Gaiani ordered his crew to intercept the British frigate. The faster schooner then passed along the frigate's port side, about eighy yards off, unleashing a hail of chainshot at the hostile ship. The frigate's mainmast cracked, listed, then came crashing down, cutting her speed in half and overjoying the Mary's crew.

"Stay focused, lads!" the Italian pirate shouted from his quarterdeck. "We're not outta this yet!"

"Sir!" the bosun exclaimed. "The Forsaken's in trouble!" He raised an arm and pointed east.

Aldo was quick to notice that the bosun was indeed correct. The mighty Forsaken, with her captain gone and her crew losing heart, was surrounded. Two ships - a man of war and the sloop - were engaging the lone pirate ship. The sloop raked across the Forsaken's bow, while the man of war prepared to unleash a volley from her port side onto the pirates. Aldo ordered his helmsman to steer an easterly heading. As the schooner turned, Aldo noticed the pirate brig Renegade sailing to assist their comrades aboard the Champion. The Renegade came within a hundred yards of the pirate man o' war when a British frigate fired a broadside at her. Aldo felt his heart sink as the brig's two masts crashed downwards into the sea, disabling her.

Aldo returned his attention to his own ship. Ahead, the Forsaken fired a volley at the sloop, destroying the little ship. The man of war, untouched, fired upon the pirate ship, sending dozens of round ripping into her hull and rigging. The Forsaken's crew returned the favor by discharging a volley of their own. The frigate overtook her enemy shortly afterwards, turning hard to starboard in an effort to rake across the man of war's bow. No doubt the British captain noticed this maneuver, as the man of war began turning to starboard as well. Meanwhile, the Mary continued closing rapidly on the man of war.

It was then that Aldo spotted the man of war's starboard broadside facing the Mary's bow. The two ships were now fewer than one hundred yards apart. One volley from the British ship of the line, and the Mary would end up a floating wreck. And now forty guns were aimed at the schooner, ready to deliver a storm of iron death.

"Hard to port!" Aldo yelled in a panic. "All hands down!"

The Italian crouched low, covering his head with his hands. He closed his eyes and waited for the British guns to herald his doom.

The volley never came. Instead, an explosion sounded nearby. Aldo raised his head and looked at the man of war, just in time to see heated shrapnel rain down on her main deck. Her main sails caught fire. On deck, a powder keg exploded, killing a man nearby.

A mortar, Aldo thought. Where did that come from?

Looking around, Aldo spotted another ship joining the battle. The new vessel - a brig by her rigging - sailed in from the north, flying all her sails and colors.

Scarcely believing his eyes, the young Italian recognized the ship instantly and silently gave thanks to the Lord.