There is nothing worse for a pirate than dying on dry land. Except, maybe, swinging two feet above it.
When their captain is imprisoned, facing the gallows, the men and women of the Lady Lesya's crew will try everything to break him out--even if it...
O'Ma waved at the First Mate. How nice of her to have come to meet them. Immobile on the plank above the sea, Alexandra was smiling in an unprecedented and quite perplexing manner. Yet, the man at her side was trouble. Clad in an impeccable uniform, shining red, white and gold, he was obviously a soldier. The shoulder pads, the grey whiskers, and the absence of furry hat all pointed him out as an officer.
O'Ma sighed, fatigue washing over him. Inconvenienced by Stalker's weight on his shoulder, he dropped him bluntly, frustration prevailing over caution. The Lady's safety was so close...
Cap marched toward the impediment. "Sir, whoever you are, you stand between me and my ship."
Dune stood right behind his captain, as always. Tiago sat on the nearest bollard, looking eager to see how the confrontation would go. Card seemed unable to remain still, nervous despite his contemptuous expression.
The officer turned to face Etienne. He looked composed, unaffected by his blatant lack of support. "I'm Don Juan Peña Hernandez de la Luz, Chief Constable of Puerto Seguro. And I can easily guess you are the captain of this fine ship."
Cap bowed, waving his tricorn in convoluted, mocking patterns, and replied in the same cordial tone. "Etienne Desjours. I'm sorry not to have more names to offer. But I'm indeed captain of this beautiful brigantine." He paused to cast a loving glance to the Lady. "A ship I'd like to board now."
The Constable rolled his impressive mustache between his fingers. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, sir." His hand left his face to land on the pommel of his sword.
O'Ma looked around to find that longshoremen had gathered around to enjoy the show. He inched closer to Tiago. The exasperating Iberian got to his feet when the Constable drew his sword out of its sheath. Don Juan lifted his blade in front of his face in form of a salute, turned sideways and raised his free hand above his head. The gentleman stance looked as ludicrous as ever, but the smooth gestures, the unblinking stare and the slight smile were enough to surmise that Cap would have to deal with a deadly swordsman.
Cap nodded holding the rim of his hat, then drew one of his rapiers. His own stance looked crude in comparison. Legs spread wide, hands and sword away from his body, facing his opponent in a uncouth frontal way, these were no gentleman's manners. Despite the building tension and the promise of bloodshed, O'Ma smiled. Etienne Desjours, the once honorable French officer, had learned a lot since he became Cap. Manners were a waste when the time came to fend for your life.
Silence fell on the dock. For a moment, it seemed that even the seagulls, the sea and the ships stood still, waiting.
"Maybe we should do something," whispered Tiago.
"I was considering it." O'Ma pulled out his pistols.
Tiago produced his own triple barrel gun. "Mine is empty, you know?"
"Mine as well. We'll have to be convincing, then."
O'Ma spread his arms and pointed Fury and Mercy toward the longshoremen gathered in a wide semicircle around the ship. Tiago walked along the dock, keeping them at bay, shouting empty threats .
Etienne attacked first. He plunged forward, aiming straight at the Constable's heart. His laugh sounded like a roar.
Don Juan's face showed surprise, but no fear. He deflected the blow and stepped away from his assailant. Etienne kept his balance and turned around to face the riposte. He blocked the blade a few inches from his throat, pushed it away, and kicked the soldier in the guts. Don Juan let a muffled cry of pain and staggered backward. Etienne came back at him, slashing the air, forcing him to jump away. Both men started to dance around each other.
From the corner of his eye, O'Ma saw Stalker had regained consciousness. Sitting on the ground, he was holding his head in his hands and muttered unintelligible words. A few feet further, Dune stood still, hands closing and opening slowly, probably waiting for a chance to grab the old soldier and twist his neck.
The blades rang again, twice, but when O'Ma looked back at Etienne, he was circling around again. His face showed anger now. The fight had lasted far too long already. He unsheathed his second rapier, hit one blade against the other, and lunged forward. Don Juan parried three rapid blows before he could attack in turn. Etienne stepped back. Both men were out of breath now.
A clamor ran through the audience, some heads turned. Oblivious to their surroundings, the fighters came at each other in another brief clatter of steel. Don Juan deflected one of Etienne's sabers, and stepped aside just in time for the other to miss his eye. O'Ma could swear it cut his ear anyway. The two men parted again. Etienne grimaced and patted his left arm in search of blood. He shrugged and raised his blades once more.
Some longshoremen were now tip-toeing, trying to look behind the crowd. This time, O'Ma looked in the same direction. His heart started to beat faster and he felt a drop of sweat running along his neck. In the distance, coming from different streets, guards were gathering, marching towards the Lady Lesya, holding halberds and muskets. The time had come to end this cock fight.
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