Seizing the Pirate Ship

Under the cold light of the moon, a bean-sized flame flickered in an oil lamp aboard the pirate ship moored at Sheltered Cape.

Three pirate lackeys had been left behind to guard the ship. One of them was the old lackey who had just been denied dinner and driven from the mill to stand watch here.

Those assigned to guard the ship on a night of feasting were all low-status lackeys among the pirates. While there was wine, meat, song, and dance at the mill, they could only chew moldy salted beef, drink tasteless cheap ale, and force down a couple of tooth-cracking hard loaves.

A wave of commotion had just come from the mill, followed by rising firelight. The lackeys aboard the ship felt that something was increasingly wrong, but even the one who had climbed the mast's lookout platform could not make out anything clearly from so far away.

The slightly stronger lackey had just slid down from the mast. He shouted at the old lackey, who was huddled by the door of the stern tower and grieving in silence, "Old man, stay aboard and don't run around. The two of us will go take a look and see what happened."

The old lackey's heart had already turned to ashes. He did not get up, merely saying in a low voice, "Second Chief said at least two people must guard the ship. If you leave me here alone, I'll get scolded again."

The two lackeys merely wanted an excuse to go ashore and mooch some food and drink at the mill. They paid no heed to the old lackey's warning. "Guard it when we tell you to guard it. Why are you talking so much nonsense?"

Having said that, they ignored him. They lifted a gangplank from the deck, set it against the ship's side and connected it to a rock on shore. Carrying the oil lamp, they laughed and chatted as they hopped onto the plank, crossed onto land in several strides, and headed down the path toward the glowing mill.

The old lackey glanced in the direction they had gone. He did not even have the strength to remove the gangplank by himself. In the darkness, he lowered his head and quietly wiped away a tear...

Under the cold light of the moon, Roger hurried toward Sheltered Cape with a blood-dripping Viking Battle Axe in hand.

If his observations at dusk had not been mistaken, there had only been two pirates aboard that ship. Another pirate had gone over carrying a torch that evening, making three in all. But the observations at dusk had not been precise enough. He could only gamble on it.

Four warriors who had just killed men followed behind Roger. Five against two or three pirates in a surprise attack should not have been much of a problem.

What concerned him was how they could wade through the water and climb over the ship's side smoothly. If they could not board, they could only sneak close and kill one or two with bows and crossbows, preventing the rest from sailing the ship out of port. Then they would have to surround the ship and force its pirates to surrender, or find planks to board it.

As he pondered this, a bean-sized lamp glow suddenly appeared around a bend in the path several dozen steps ahead. Two figures carrying lamps were walking toward them.

"Stop. Into the grass." Roger spoke softly, immediately leading the others into the roadside grass. He sheathed the Viking axe in its leather cover, then drew his close-combat hunting knife and held it in a reverse grip.

Summer insects chirped and frogs croaked. The two pirates traveling through the night with their lamp were discussing whether, before leaving Sheltered Cape for Rocklanza Village, they should spend half a silver coin to call over a village girl and tumble into a haystack for a wild romp.

As they talked, the two let out bursts of lewd laughter.

The lamplight drew nearer and nearer, their chatter louder and louder. Roger, crouched low in the grass, had already slightly raised the hunting knife in his hand.

"...That old bastard Gary's daughter is truly something. Those two lumps on her chest probably wouldn't fit in both hands.

"Now that the First Chief is dead, no one will protect her anymore. If we can get her out for one go, heh heh~" The pirate carrying the oil lamp spoke with drool already running from his mouth, slurping as he hurried ahead.

Just as the two pirate lackeys indulged their filthy fantasies, a figure suddenly shot out from the roadside grass. It sprang up violently, and the cold gleam in its hand slashed toward the lamp-bearing pirate's neck in an instant.

The pirate carrying the lamp did not react at all. He only felt a sudden chill at his neck, followed immediately by searing pain.

The hunting knife pierced straight through the pirate's neck, bursting out from the left side and stopping only when it lodged in his left shoulder blade.

The fatal blow gave the lamp-bearing pirate no time to shout or struggle. He collapsed sideways, blood gushing from his mouth in great mouthfuls as muffled whimpers bubbled from his throat.

As Roger stabbed one man to death, Blackhide Dog, Old Joey, and the others had already rushed the other pirate. They lacked Roger's one-strike killing technique. Several of them pinned the pirate beneath them, choking his neck, punching his stomach, and gouging at his eyes. Baldhead's loaded crossbow was blocked from view by the others, leaving him to watch helplessly in anxious frustration.

Roger had already pulled the hunting knife from the pirate's neck, while the fighting on the other side continued in muffled silence.

Roger carried the blood-dripping hunting knife over, kicked aside the rotten gambler blocking his way, then crouched and clamped a hand over the pirate's constantly screaming mouth.

"Move aside," Roger snapped at the flustered men.

The men who had no idea how to kill hurriedly retreated to one side.

Roger covered the pirate's mouth with his left hand while his right-hand hunting knife pressed against the pirate's neck. "Don't make a sound. I'll spare your worthless life. Do you hear me?"

With the crushing weight on him removed, the pirate finally breathed easier despite the threats to his mouth and neck. He hurriedly nodded with muffled whimpers.

"How many people are still on the ship?" Roger asked softly, loosening the hand over the pirate's mouth slightly.

"Just—cough, cough."

The pirate had just been choked by the neck and could not stop himself from coughing twice. Roger immediately covered his mouth again, frightening the pirate until his pupils dilated and soft whimpers escaped him.

Roger loosened his grip slightly again.

"My lord, I was wrong. I'll never be a bad man again." The pirate had been scared out of his wits, shit and piss already streaming down his trousers.

"How many people are on the ship? What weapons do they have?" Roger demanded fiercely. His knife-holding right hand unconsciously pressed harder, cutting a bloody line across the pirate's neck.

"M-my lord, just one. Just one useless old man. He can't use weapons."

"Please, my lord, spare—"

The pirate's voice stopped abruptly. Roger's hunting knife sliced straight across, severing his carotid artery and windpipe. The sound in his mouth became a hoarse, broken gurgle as great jets of blood spurted out in rhythm with his heartbeat. Even with both hands clutching his neck, he could not stop it.

After only a few convulsions, he gradually went still.

Roger stabbed each of the two men once more in the heart.

Seeing that the men on the ground were thoroughly dead, and having confirmed that only one old lackey remained aboard, Roger finally relaxed somewhat. He planned to have Baldhead and the others surround the pirate ship shortly and force the remaining old lackey to surrender.

The group covered the remaining several hundred steps quickly. When they came within twenty-odd paces of the pirate ship, Roger signaled for those behind him to approach quietly.

By the moonlight, the full outline of the furled-sail carrack pirate ship was already clear. This wooden sailing vessel had the same design as Baron John's Baron, though it was somewhat smaller.

The hull had been modified. The bottoms of the bow and stern towers had been enclosed as cabins, an additional foremast had been added, and a crude felt canopy had been erected in the middle of the deck. It was meant to store bulk goods that could not fit below deck or shelter horses and livestock from wind and rain. Pirates who drifted upon the sea all year naturally had little use for horses or bulk cargo, so this became the dwelling place of those pirates unwilling to cram into the low cabins.

Unlike an ordinary cargo carrack, this ship retained oar holes beneath its sides, making it more nimble and better suited for pirates pursuing and plundering their prey.

Roger had no time to inspect it closely. Just as he was about to have Baldhead take the crossbow and occupy a high rock, he noticed a gangplank still slanting between the ship's side and a rock on shore, gently rising and falling with the tide.

"A trap?" For an instant, Roger thought he had walked into a pirate ambush. Instinctively, he switched the hunting knife in his hand for the more powerful Viking Battle Axe.

"Young Master Roger, is there still a gangplank that hasn't been taken in?" Blackhide Dog vaguely saw something linking the pirate ship and the land.

Many thoughts flashed through Roger's mind. Today had been a raid on the pirates from the start. Since most of them had already been put to death, there was no reason for an ambush to have been set here.

Still, to be safe, Roger turned and exchanged for the loaded crossbow in Baldhead's hands.

With his body slightly bent, he moved in quick, small steps toward the ship's side. He stepped onto the rock beside the gangplank, tested it, then suddenly darted up in several strides and aimed the crossbow at the cabin. "Don't move!"

The old lackey hiding in the stern tower cabin trembled as he peered through the crack in the door, only to find an arrow lodged diagonally in the doorboard, its fletching still quivering slightly.