A Game Of Swans

Chpt 3 - Clash

The ship wasn't approaching overly quickly, but I still narrowed my eyes at it as it continued towards us. My crew members rushed around, clearing away our glasses as they prepared themselves for a possible attack.

I pulled my spyglass out of one of my pockets and peered through it. I could make out a pirate flag and a British flag, immediately telling me that the ship was a British pirate ship.

That could either be very good or very bad. I ground my teeth together.

"Should we try and escape, Captain?" asked Carrie.

Should we? I wasn't too sure. Seeing a British pirate ship wasn't totally unexpected, I thought, we are located on the border of The Celtic Sea, so I suppose we were bound to run into some English seafarers at some point. Was there any point in attempting an escape then?

Despite myself, and my wish to protect my crew from a danger that we could possibly not want to face at the moment, an excited rush of adrenaline ran through me at the prospect of an actual battle. One that had actual stakes and consequences.

Merchant ships were all the same, no matter how many of them you took down.

But another pirate ship?

Well, that was when things got interesting.

And whether this was unfortunate or not, my pirate mind couldn't help but relish in the possibility that there could be some real action.

"No," I replied calmly, "Approach the pirate ship with caution, and be prepared to attack should things turn sour, but do not fire a single cannon or gun until I say so, or until a threat fully presents itself."

"Yes, Captain."

With that, Carrie sped off to do one of the things that Carrie did best - ordering people around. It ranked as second in the list; the first spot was reserved for murder.

I moved across the deck of The Reaper and onto the forecastle deck, where I continued to peer through my spyglass at the now rapidly approaching ship. It was still a minute or two before I could pick out two figures standing at the head of the ship.

I zoomed in as best as I could, but the image didn't come into focus for another few moments.

When it did, a slightly crazy grin graced my features as my eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Captain Arthur Kirkland.

We had never met, not formally, but I had heard of him. He was, from my knowledge, very fond of robbing Spanish port towns and colonies, and was pretty skilled at it too. We had passed each other a few times, but not close enough to hold a conversation - I had seen him on the horizon, and he had seen me.

But we had never had a chance - or I suppose, a chance had never presented itself for us - to meet up.

"Very interesting indeed," I murmured to myself.

Another man was standing next to him, and I assumed that he was the Englishman's First Mate. He was holding on of his hands up in that gesture that one might do when they are saying hello to a passing friend but they don't have time to talk - not fully up in the air, but halfway there.

It was a renowned pirate signal for 'please don't shoot at us, we come in peace and are not going to attack'.

Of course, it was down to the Captain to decide if the other approaching ship was a danger or not despite this.

Now I was too intrigued by Captain Kirkland's appearance to want to fight his ship. I quickly came to the decision that I would rather know what he wanted.