“Tell us again, boy,” Captain Raneir sneered, his hot breath reeking with the putrid scent of rot and meat, his teeth chipped, black, and full of decay. “Tell us again how the devil lass with the angel’s song tried to sink me here furner.”
The men surrounding him laughed, loud and disingenuous, causing the small cabin below deck to rumble with its power. Nicolas could hardly see them clear through the water wall stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. He braced himself against the strong hand pushing him back into the ice cold darkness. His lungs burned. His cheeks and nose lost all feeling.
“S’all true,” he shouted, between gasps of air. “Everything I said is.”
“It be me own fault,” Captain Raneir exclaimed with exaggerated disappointment. “Pickin’ up sprogs cause I can pay ’em cheap, placin’ the black spot on the lot of us. A right mad scallywag he be. Takin’ us right to Davy Jones’ Locker.” Continue reading