Black Sam - Prince of Pirates

Twenty Four - THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

 Twenty-Four -THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

 October 1716

 Sam awoke to the gentle swaying rhythm of a calm, peaceful morning. The crisp sun penetrated through his window, casting a warm light across the middle of his bed. Faint sounds of seagulls reminded him how close he was to shore. He heard low, muffled voices, and a slight splash, followed by the whine of a spinning pulley. The divers were back at it again. He took a deep breath, stretched out, and then jumped out of bed to throw on his pants.

 Only a few men walked about the main deck. Sam walked by one who gave him a nod. “Mornin' Captain.”

 “Good morning Riddick. Have you seen Paul?”

 Riddick turned while still walking by. “No sir, I haven’t.”

 Sam stopped and watched the divers for a moment, marveling at their work ethic. Their bags seemed to be fairly full, although not like they were last night. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. The early hour did not keep the sun from doing its job, and a brisk dip was the only thing Sam thought could improve on such a grand start to a beautiful day. He chose the port side opposite the divers so he would not interrupt their rhythm. Looking out into the water, he was surprised to see Paulgrave already enjoying a swim. “Is there any room down there for me?” Sam asked.

 Paulgrave squirted water out his mouth. “You might just fit.”

 Sam stood on top of the guardrail, and threw off his trousers.

 “Just don’t get too close,” Paulgrave said just as Sam dove naked into the water.

 After a moment, Sam’s head broke through the surface a good distance from Paulgrave further away from the ship. “How’s this?”

 Paulgrave shrugged. “It’s a little close.” He disappeared underwater, and then popped up further out past Sam. “Now that’s better.” He wiped the dark hair out of his eyes. Sam looked at Paulgrave for a moment, and then took off swimming toward him. Not being a very good swimmer, Paulgrave slowly raced away from Sam.

 It didn’t take Sam long to catch Paulgrave, and when he did he shoved his head under water and took off again. Paulgrave grabbed Sam’s ankle and kept him from getting away. With a quick spin, Sam faced Paulgrave, who quickly took off in the other direction; as he did, he kicked hard and caught Sam on the side of his head. For a brief moment, Sam saw stars.

 Paulgrave stopped and turned around. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

 Dazed by the kick, Sam tried to shake it off, but his sight was slow to come back.

 “Sam!” Paulgrave yelled, panic edging his voice.

 Sam shook his head; the pain was subsiding, his sight now returning.

 “Sam!” Paulgrave continued.

 “Paul, I’m fine, you don’t have to—“

 “Sam!” Paulgrave slapped the water, and motioned behind his friend, the alarm in his voice increased exponentially.

 Turning back, Sam saw what had alarmed his friend. Off in the distance, to the east, several ships sailed toward them.

 “Are they Spanish?” Paulgrave asked

 “More than likely,” Sam said.

 A storm of Gunshots rang out. Pistols and rifles close in proximity. Sam looked to his ship, and noticed another sitting right next to it on the opposite side. He put his head down and kicked viciously swimming toward it.