because guess whos obsessed with yet another childrens film about sea monsters and kinda-sorta-not-really-pirates!!! im literally a high school senior!!!
also this is here mostly to break up enoch content lolz (hes still a menace here dont worry )
also apologies this is very long lol//
So sing the Hunter's praises, wherever men draw breath!
There was a time where sea beasts— wights and hollowgast by name— ravaged our shores. There was a time where no one dared to sail the seas, where the deep blue was best left untouched and inland was the only place safe from the beasts. There was a time where fear was all to be known.
That time is no more.
Abraham Portman, the legendary captain of The Mayflower Atlantis, changed everything. He took his ship and his crew out farther than ever before, carving a path to the future by lance and pistol and bloody spite. He was the greatest man to ever sail the sea.
But now, there's only one ship a wight should truly and honestly fear. One ship so inevitable, so undeniable, with a belly full of bones and a hull made of skin, that only a fool wouldn't run for the hills just by the sight of it.
The Falcon's Revenge.
Captain Alma Peregrine isn't the kind of woman anyone tussles with in their right mind. Out of all the captains on the great seas, she's got the most blood on her hands, the most sea beast skulls under her belt.
Her first mate Emma Bloom is as skilled with a gun as she is with her words.
The Quartermaster, Bronwyn Bruntley, is said to have fists made of iron. She's got more scars than anyone's dared to get close enough to count, and a glare to rival the sun.
Sailing Master Millard Nullings has a booming voice, the kind that silences rooms, yet is rumored to disappear like a ghost to the sea.
The Gunner trio— Horace Somnusson, Hugh Apiston, and Fiona Frauenfeld— are said to be some of the best to ever sail. With impeccable aim and speed atop terrifying appearances! And the Master Gunner, Enoch O'Connor, watches over them with the same accuracy, with spear and firearm alike.
The crew's "Powder Monkeys"— though only in name— are Claire Densmore and Olive Abroholos-Elephanta, and apparently they harbor the same aged glare as their crewmates.
The Falcon's Revenge is rumored to be crewed by the best to ever sail. The best to ever live. They're a weapon against nature's deadliest design.
And I, Jacob Portman, am going to join them.
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The Falcon's Revenge arrived this morning. The crowd was thicker than fog, packing the streets from the edge of the docks to the hills beyond. I shoved my way through, clutching my satchel to my chest and ducking around men twice— thrice— my size. And yet, there it was.
The ship I've spent so long admiring from a distance, only a few meters away from me. And she was gorgeous.
Made of dark, scarred wood, The Falcon's Revenge was an impressive sight even without its reputation. The figurehead was that of a sea beast— the wooden creature had its head tilted back, wild tongues lashing at the sky and wrapped around the bow. The masts all held crimson-red sails, embroidered with the silhouette of a peregrine falcon.
I could hardly contain my joy.
Then, as a cheer rose up from the people around me, a red-haired woman stepped up onto the taffrail. Her hair was wild, barely contained under a black bandanna, and her clothes were stained by salt and dried blood. She was beautiful as the ship she sailed with. She was first mate Emma Bloom, the most feared sharpshooter on the sea. One of her hands was tangled in hanging ropes as she leaned over the edge to address the people.
" It's good to be home at last!" She shouted, her voice echoing across the harbor. " But it'll be a short stay, I'm afraid. Captain Peregrine will visit the council at first light, and when this ship is ready... we'll be off to kill a monster!"
A blond boy jumped up beside her, hanging off the taffrail with little to no care in the world. Enoch O'Connor, the spearsman, almost legendary for his deadly accuracy. " We're goin' after a leviathan! So if this ends up our last visit to Needle Key, I expect some right and proper debauchery!"
Emma Bloom laughed, her features strained, and beside her dropped the gangway. She was the first down, sweeping her arm wide to part the crowd. I staggered back, standing on the tips of my toes to see her better.
" Go on, then!" She announced, " Make way for the hunters!"
Enoch leapt down beside her, practically bouncing with each step, while a tall and extremely muscled woman followed him down with a heaping mound of cloth draped over her shoulders.
" Council will pay well for them tongues, I'll tell you that," Enoch laughed, tapping his knuckles against the tall woman's shoulder. Bronwyn Bruntley, she must be. I strained to see her hands, but the crowd blocked my view. He turned to the crowd. " You know what that means! The drinks are on us!"
" No one goes thirsty tonight, mates!" came another voice descending from the ship. A tall, gangly man with copper goggles and scruffy hair— Hugh Apiston, one of the gunners.
The crowd started moving, following the crew as they walked down from the ship and towards the nearest tavern. I pushed my way out, aiming for one of the closest back alleys. As much as I admired the crew of The Falcon's Revenge, I had no intention of getting shitfaced with them.
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The Falcon's Revenge bobs in the harbor, its red sails backed by the setting sun. From where I stood on the docks, I could hear the cheery song rising from the tavern down the way. Needle Key rarely got any hunter ships, and rarely would ever again, so this was my chance. My one chance.
If I was going to be anything like my grandfather, I had to take every opportunity I could.
Which may or may not have been a leading reason behind why I had a barrel under one arm and a satchel hung over my shoulder. Hunters live the greatest lives, and die the greatest deaths, and I was going to live the greatest life known to man.
I'm a Portman. Hunting is what we do.
I threw the barrel up onto the ship first, cringing when wood banged against wood. Then I started to climb myself, hoping to God no one had half the mind to look out at The Falcon's Revenge at this very moment. I'd rather not explain myself until absolutely necessary.
I heaved myself over the edge of the ship with a grunt, collapsing into a heap beside my trusty barrel. My hands were red with ropeburn. From below, laughter echoed from the street. I'd have to be quick.
The deck of the ship was pristine. Everything seemed to have a place, from the spear hanging above the Captain Quarters entrance, to the tilt of each cannon, to the hanging ropes. The crew wasn't known to be sticklers when it came to details, after all. Even one mistake could mean a watery death.
I knew that all to well.
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It's hard to say how long I spent in that stuffy barrel. I dipped in and out of an anxious sleep, rubbing my thumb along the ridges of my locket— if my grandfather gave me nothing else, I at least had his stupidly sentimental locket— and tapping on my legs.
Eventually, countless hours later, my barrel shook, and was lifted clear into the air. I clapped both hands over my mouth to keep myself from making any noise. My barrel was set on its side, leaving me awkwardly on my back with my knees too close to my face for comfort, and for a moment, I thought I was safe.
Then I heard the voices, and the unmistakable sound of taps being hammered into kegs. Oh, fuck—
Wood clanged against my back, and I couldn't keep myself from yelping in both shock and pain.
" What in the world—" came a sweet voice from outside, then my barrel was turned upright and I fell onto my neck with a groan. And my barrel was lifted away from me, both blinding me with morning light and finally letting me stretch a bit.
" A stowaway." said a soft voice, and I tilted my head back to see a young girl. An upside down young girl. Her hair was curled, loose from any hat or bandanna or whatever else Hunters tend to wear on their heads, and her clothing was cleaner than anything I expected to see on a ship. She was holding a half-full tray of beer mugs. " We've got a stowaway."
" So we do."
I looked up and there was Bronwyn Bruntley, sporting a voice far too kind for a face as terrifying as hers. I forced a sheepish smile.
" You stowed away?" Bronwyn asked, my barrel hefted over her shoulder. The rumors were right— her shoulders were scarred and she was taller than any man I had ever met, yet she had the voice of a mother. Gentle and understanding, in a way I hardly expected her to be.
" I... stowed away..." I muttered.
Bronwyn sighed, dragging her hand down her face. " You stowed away."
I unfolded myself and stood, my legs like jelly beneath me. I shrugged. " I... yeah."
Bronwyn towered over me, her features darkened by the rolling clouds high above. " Well, then. We're dropping you off at the nearest port. We're going after a leviathan, and a ship like this is no place for an inexperienced kid to be mucking about."
" I'm not inexperienced, and I'm not a kid—" I argued.
" Oh, yeah, right," said a different voice, cutting me off, and a tall boy with blond curls ducked into my line of sight and snatched up my hand. Enoch O'Connor, of course. The side of his face was peppered by thin scars, tugging his lips up in a strange and unnatural grin. " Look at your hands, mate! You ain't never done a day of sea work in your life, have you?"
" I—"
" What's this?" another voice— this one completely new to me— interrupted, Bronwyn turned to face its owner, who was stepping down from the forecastle.
My breath caught in my throat.
Its owner was Captain Alma Peregrine. She was an older woman, her wavy hair touched by grey and chopped hastily off at the shoulders. Her hat was adorned by falcon feathers, as well as her black and silver coat, and her gaze was enough to make me wish I had never pulled this stunt in the first place. At her waist was a thin blade, encased in a leather sheathe, and I could partially make out the hilt of knives tucked into her boots. She was terrifying.
I swallowed my fear.
" The name's Jacob Portman, ma'am, but you need no introduction." I began, and the older woman raised her thin brows. I had caught her attention. " You've been swallowed whole, shot through the heart, and cut to pieces. But the worms won't eat you, and Hades won't take you, so here you are! The right, proud, and deserving commander of the second-greatest hunting ship to ever take to the seas!"
Captain Peregrine frowned. " Second-greatest?" She leaned forward, her hands tucked behind her back. " Which then, may I ask, Mr Portman, is the greatest?"
I took a deep breath and held tight to my satchel. " I'm partial to The Mayflower Atlantis, ma'am, for it's the ship my grandfather served on."
My answer seemed to satisfy her, and Captain Peregrine nodded. " So he died a hero, your grandfather did, didn't he?"
" Yes, ma'am."
" I like this kid," Captain Peregrine said over her shoulder, towards the growing crowd of crew members behind her. " He's all vinegar, isn't he."
" But, C-Captain—" Enoch O'Connor began, but Captain Peregrine turned and cut him short.
" Emma, be good enough to take him in, would you?" Captain Peregrine brushed the shoulder of her first mate, the red-headed girl watching me with a defined frown.
" Aye, Captain." She responded, clearly disappointed by the task, and gestured for me to follow her.
" Congratulations, mate." I said to Enoch, as he stared open-mouthed in shock after Emma, and I took a mug of whatever beer it was from the tray held up beside me. The young looking, clean girl was holding it, and she subsequently held it away as soon as the mug left the platter with a huff.
Enoch snatched the mug for himself from me as soon as I started walking away.
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Emma Bloom led me to the crews quarters, and left me to stand by the door as she kneeled beside a chest and slipped blade and pistol into the countless amount of holsters decorating her figure. Inside her pale blue coat, in holsters at her hips and thighs, in hidden pockets in her boots— the girl was armed to the teeth, and I had to make an honest effort not to stare.
Emma stood and crossed the room to an empty bed. She took the pillow down and pressed her fist against it— she wore golden rings, I noticed, on every finger— then tossed it back up.
" You sleep there." She said, blunt as a stone.
" You're.... Emma Bloom." I breathed, unable to think about anything else. She raised her chin with a frown. God, what did she do again? I paused, then dug one of my only belongings out of my satchel.
I knew everyone on this ship— at least, everyone memorable— because of a thick book my grandfather had gifted me after his death. The cover was red, adorned by golden text reading Tales of The Falcon's Revenge, and I had read it cover to cover countless times.
I flipped it open to a page with Emma's portrait— she was wearing the same frown in the artwork, I should mention— and held it up.
" They say there's no First Mate more loyal, or sharpshooter more deadly—"
" That's quite enough." Emma interrupted. " I've heard your speeches, boy, and I'm not keen to hear them again."
I frowned, mimicking her expression. " My speeches kept me on this boat, dare I remind you."
She scoffed, then reached into her coat. " You're on this boat because Captain Peregrine won't stop to put you off it." She pulled out a knife, sheathed in embroidered leather, and as she held the blade up to the light, she said, " The Hunt is all that matters to her."
Emma held the blade out to me. " So do us all a favor, and give her your absolute obedience."
Carefully, I took the knife from her, the smooth bone of the hilt heavy in my palm.
" Or fall on that yourself, because mark my burnt tongue, I'll visit worse than death on you." Emma jabbed me in the chest, then nudged me out of the way.
I couldn't muffle my smile, chewing on my lip. " You're... amazing."
Emma met my eyes, her own a vibrant green I had never seen up close. Her nose twitched. Then she heaved a sigh, tightened her bandanna, and left.
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Night fell over the ship.
I had met most of the crew by now— including those I had grown to idolize so much. Bronwyn had a heavy gaze but a kind hand, and despite her reputation of bloody violence, I heard multiple people describe her as nothing but a gentle giant. It was difficult to see, at first, but now it made perfect sense to me.
The young, nicely dressed girl I had encountered earlier was named Claire, and she clearly disapproved of my presence. She was almost always beside another slightly older girl, named Olive. Olive wore heavy boots that clunked with every step, yet she seemed to be the fastest person on the ship.
Hugh and Fiona seemed inseparable, going as far as to share the same metal mug. They spoke in low voices, and both offered warm smiles when I passed them. Their other partner, Horace Somnusson, was also dressed to the nines, and was painfully distressed by my own clothing choices. He was kind enough otherwise, if a bit jittery, and always seemed to be in some kind of motion.
Millard, the sailing master, was a quiet man with scrawny limbs and wild curls. He had maps hanging from his belt, and he was almost perpetually spinning a pen round his thin fingers. He was humming under his breath when I introduced myself, and he spoke in slow, thought out sentences. He sounded intelligent, but uninterested.
Enoch, surprisingly, seemed the liveliest of them all. Maybe he had just drank too much. Emma had described him as, and I quote, " A ladies man".
" I don't understand what they see in him," Emma had said to me, as we watched him lead a drink-infused shanty. " He's got a girl on every port, you know. A couple guys, too. Nothing official or anything, of course, but the snarky bastard's got charm."
" I've always heard he's moody and rude." I said.
" Oh, he is. Apparently, people like that."
I hadn't seen Emma since. I had retired to my bed, flicking through Tales of The Falcons Revenge and hoping for the best. The flare was fired off not long ago now. Absentmindedly, I traced the words carved inside the cover of the book. It was the only thing I had of Abraham Portman that honestly felt like him. Not a cheap recreation like his locket. This was the only thing left of him.
To Jacob, and the worlds he has yet to discover.
Oh, I'll discover them, alright. I'm going to get my own ship and I'm going to finish what my grandfather started. I'm going to chart the globe.
But first, I need to figure out why the ship I'm on now is shaking. I glanced over to the lantern, watching it sway with the rocking of the sea. It hadn't been this rough all night, and as I climbed down and looked out the window, I found it wasn't rough at all.
" Beat to quarters!" echoed Captain Peregrine's voice outside.
Something was making it shake. I shoved the book back into my satchel and practically ran outside, dodging a group of crew members carrying boxes of explosives. Shouting rose up all around me. Faintly, I heard Millard's voice from somewhere within the crowd.
" Let's have her ready!" Millard shouted, pacing up and down the length of the deck. I caught glimpses of his wild hair here and there. " Tonight's the night we do what we do!"
" Fighting trim!" called out Captain Peregrine, from the other side of the deck. Crew members steered clear of her, so I could see her without issue from where I stood. " Clew up fore' and main! Harpooners, tie off them darts! We're going for a sleigh ride!"
" Heave away!"
I did the first thing I thought of and snatched up a stray spear, shocked by how light it was in my hands. Enoch shoved past me, hardly looking in my direction, holding a spear of his own and shouting orders towards the gunners.
Everyone froze and fell quiet at the sound of birds. There was something about birds and sea beasts— God, I was really going to fight a sea beast!— I knew there was, I just couldn't remember what. I met Emma Bloom's eyes halfway across the ship, and the notch in her brows reminded me of just what it was I was missing.
Birds followed them. Birds followed hollowgast.
" Brace!" Emma shouted, and the ship rocked with the impact of something massive. My spear went tumbling out of my hands and slid far out of my reach. I lost my footing ( obviously, of course I'd have such shitty luck.) and slammed my back against the taffrail. Boxes slid past me, one an open case of explosives, and I narrowly avoided a soaring barrel.
Fuck, explosives!
I dove for them, snatching the box just as it slid over the edge of the railing. One slipped loose.
" Goddamnit—"
An explosion rocked the ship upright, and I staggered backwards, holding onto the box for dear life. A blonde woman knocked my shoulder, shouting " Good thinking!" over the sound of sea water raining down on us.
I heard Captain Peregrine faintly, her voice strained and clearly impatient. " The ocean has sent us it's worse, and we'll send it right on back! Carcass shot if you please, gunners! Protect our broadside!"
I looked down at the box in my hands. Explosives. Those were carcass shots, right? Fuck if I knew, but I rushed over to the gunners anyways and let them take the red capsules from my box. Hugh nodded at me, as did Fiona, and Horace simply gave me a tight-lipped smile. This is what they did for a living, and I was lucky enough to watch them do it.
" Alright, you fish-killers!" Enoch's voice echoed from behind me, " We came all this way for a proper fight, and by hell are we going to get one!" He was pacing up and down the line, a box under one arm and a spear clasped in his free hand. His eyes were glued to the sea.
" Hurry, lad," Emma urged, appearing beside me from the crowd. " These bastards move faster than we can reload. Get our gunners stocked."
I ran the rest of the line.
And I was at the top of the forecastle, right by the bow, when the beast surfaced. It was massive. A bruised red in color, it sported spotty eyes and a single massive horn, curving out of its forehead like a goat. Plated scales ran down its spine, pointed like daggers. It opened its mouth to roar, and as it did so, a trio of spike-lined tongues whipped out.
" Fire!" hollered Captain Peregrine from below, and the rockets of cannonfire took off immediately. It was deafening, but necessary, and through the smoke I could see the old Captain glaring at the beast as if it were a personal grudge.
A leviathan and a Hunter Captain were made to kill each other. But her gaze held a certain kind of venom that didn't just come with the job title.
The hollowgast came down into the water again, knocking the bow with all its strength. I fell back, dropping my (thankfully empty) box and grabbing onto the nearest rope.
" Now's our chance, boys!" came Enoch's voice, louder than I expected it to be. " Spears!"
I ducked as a spear soared past my head— not close enough to harm, but damn close enough to scare— and the echoing roar of the beast was enough to solidify in my mind how much of a mistake this was. The ship lurched. There was the snap of ropes, and The Falcon's Revenge was off, attached to a beast twice its size.
There was a clatter of footsteps, and I looked up to see Captain Peregrine leaning over the railing, her hand cupped over her eyes. " We've got it hooked!" she called back to her crew, " Now we wear the stubborn beast down. Full sail, Mr Nullings!"
Millard's voice rose up from the deck immediately. " You heard the woman! Square the yards, get it off the pins!"
" It'll fight the very wind 'till there's no fight left in it." Captain Peregrine said. The hollowgast groaned— and I'm not kidding, either, it made a very human-like groan sound— and tugged against the ropes, racing faster into the uncharted sea. Captain Peregrine whooped.
" Run, ye devil! And right there we'll be!"
The leviathan ducked beneath the surface of the water, and the ship tilted as it changed direction. I hugged the thick rope tighter. Captain Peregrine's eyes narrowed, and she turned and stormed right off the forecastle.
" Captain?" Emma called after her, hanging onto a rope of her own. She glanced down at me, then scrambled to her feet and started after her captain.
I could hear Captain Peregrine laughing to herself, and I watched, wide-eyed, as she swept off her hat and jammed her sword into the boards of her ship. The deck was soaked, and crew members slid all around her, but the Captain walked with a steady foot. She tore down the lance above the captain's quarters.
" I've got you now!"
The ship was tilting heavily now, and crew members slid past me and clattered against the bows thin railing with groans. I managed to catch one of them, a wide eyed girl who shakily introduced herself as Erza, and claimed she was terribly sorry to inconvenience me so. Unsure, I told her not to worry about it, and let her cling to the same rope as I tried to think my way out of this.
I've never actually killed a hollowgast before. That was all my grandfather's doing. I've just read about doing it. But what I have done is escape, and by hell I was going to get myself— and my new crewmates— out of this mess, one way or another.
The leviathan was spinning now, creating a whirlpool with its twisted horn. If I tilted my head slightly, I could see its face, blurred by the racing water. I shoved Erza up towards the other railing, and she grabbed it without argument. Clinging to the rope with one arm, I offered my hand to the other crew members farther below me, and without question, they took it one by one.
Soon enough, I was the only one still on the forecastle.
" Jacob!" Erza called down to me, now on her feet. " You can't stay there!"
" Don't worry about me, I'm fine!" I called back, " Just... just go do something helpful, or whatever, I don't know!"
The ship tilted more, and Erza yelped. Any more and we'd be upright on our bow, and The Falcon's Revenge would go down. Just like so many other ships, who took on a beast too big for them. Just like The Mayflower Atlantis.
No! No! Another Portman would not die at sea! We have "Port" in our goddamn name, for fucks sake, and we're the type to die on land, or not at all!
" The ship can't take it!" I hear Enoch yell, from somewhere to my left. " We have to cut the lines!"
I looked up to where he was shouting from— he was holding onto a spear he had wedged into the deck, his feet supported by a bar on the taffrail— and traced his eyes to Captain Peregrine. She was standing upright on the foremast, that massive lance tight in her grip. She was glaring down at her Master Gunner.
" I've never run from a fight, O'Connor." She shouted back. " And I'm not about to start now!"
" We've got to! Even dead, it'll drag us to the bottom!"
No response from Peregrine.
" Captain!" Enoch shouted. " You're going to get us all killed!"
I looked back towards the hollowgast. I caught a glimpse of its eye, blank and scarred. My skin was damp, my clothes stuck to me, and the knife at my hip was working a bruise—
Wait a goddamn minute. I have a knife.
I can cut the lines.
I can cut the lines!
I took a deep breath— to the best of my ability, at least, since there was more water being flung at my face than oxygen— and I started to climb. I was further down the rope than Erza had been, and by now it was soaked to all hell, but I did what I had to, and soon enough I pulled myself over the capstan and straddled it like I was riding a horse. It was far from comfortable, but the ropes connecting us to the hollowgast used the capstan as their anchor, so to speak, and I needed to cut these things.
And fast.
I unsheathed my blade and got to work.
Far above me, I could hear Captain Peregrine. She had reached the top of the foremast now, and she had the lance raised and poised to kill.
" Time has come for you, ye devil!"
The first rope snapped, and I heard her grunt as the ship lurched. The ropes used for harpoons were thick, thicker than any usual rope, and made of a dozen singular ropes themselves. I was cutting as fast as I could manage. But line after line snapped, and I barely managed to get out of the way of one snapping loose. It cut my cheek, but otherwise I was clear of it.
" Jacob Portman!"
I whirled around to face the Captains voice, clinging to the capstan.
She glared down at me with pure rage in her eyes. " You cut those lines, and I'll have you killed for a coward!"
I glared right back up at her, and spun back around to continue cutting. I wasn't going to let Captain Peregrine kill us all for her own ego— legend she was or not.
" Enoch, Emma, stop him!"
There was a thunk, and Enoch landed beside me, crouched on a bar of the railing. He snatched up my arm. Almost immediately after, Emma landed on the other side of me, her blade thunking into the wood of the capstan.
" She'll get us all killed!" I shouted over the pounding sea water and roaring beast not far beneath the three of us. Enoch's gaze whipped away from me, towards the rest of his struggling crew. The mist was thick, but I could make out Olive and Claire clinging to Bronwyn by a flight of stairs, and two others high in the crows nest, one helping the other back up with little success, and the Gunner trio were all clinging to their separate cannons. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but Hugh was yelling towards Fiona, and she was nodding back to him. I watched someone fall off the quarterdeck, slide all the way down to the forecastle, and right into the crews quarters. All around us were shouts— friends calling out to friends, panicked screaming as someone else lost their grip.
" Enoch!" Emma called over to him. " He's right! We've got to cut the lines, or we'll all go down with the ship!"
He looked back at me, his brows knotted together. And then he let go.
My blade dug into the last of the lines, hastily this time, my breath coming in too short gasps. Emma nearly lost her footing and grabbed onto my leg to steady herself, Enoch reaching across my chest to help her further. I shifted slightly, moving my leg out of the way for her.
" ENOCH!" hollered Captain Peregrine.
The last line snapped.
The ship was loose.
And so were we.
Enoch, Emma, and I slid right down the bow and off the ship.
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The water was cold. Far colder than I was expecting, and I almost gasped because of it.
Enoch and Emma were below me, and swimming closer fast, but I couldn't force myself to move. Mainly because there was something there. Below us, in the murky ocean, was the glint of crimson I had just freed. And it was looking right at us.
I pointed to it, and Emma and Enoch turned at the right time for it to slowly begin to back away. Then Enoch nodded upwards, and we all swam for it. The more distance between us and that leviathan, the better.
I gasped once we broke the surface, and Emma swam towards a wooden boat floating nearby. The Falcon's Revenge was still close, and upright this time. The crew was gathered along the taffrail. We clamored into the small boat— Emma first, then Enoch, then myself— and we sat there, clinging to each other and gasping for breath.
" Did you— did you see it?" I sputtered, " It was right there, and I swear, it was looking at us, as if it knew what we did—"
" What we did was sign ourselves a death warrant and then show a hollowgast we're separated from the rest of our crew!" Emma snapped. She had lost her bandanna in the sea, and now her hair clung to her cheeks in plastered curls.
" No, no, he's right." Enoch said, " it was looking right at us. It knew we were there, and it knew we were vulnerable, but it didn't kill us. Why the fuck didn't it kill us?"
Emma shook her head.
" Bring him to me!" called Captain Peregrine's voice, and we all looked to her at the front of the crowd. Her hair was sticking to her face too, giving her the look of someone beyond their prime and well past the brink of insanity.
Emma stood, her hand planted on Enoch's shoulder to steady herself. He looked mildly annoyed by it.
" What are you going to do?" Emma called back.
" I said, bring him to me!" Captain Peregrine slammed her fist down on the railing, and the crew shied away from her like shamed children.
" He's just a child!"
" I'm giving you an order, Miss Bloom!"
" Captain, we can sort this out—"
Captain Peregrine whirled around and snatched a pistol off Bronwyn— who was staring down at us with motherly disapproval. Her aim was shaky, but I knew the rumors couldn't be far off. This was the most feared captain in all the seas. And I had gone and pissed her off. " That's an order!"
" Please, Captain—"
" Bring. Him. To. Me."
The sea rocked beneath us.
" Emma," Enoch pried, tugging her back down, " Emma, we've got to listen to her. We're risking enough even sitting out here, at least we can negotiate with the Captain—"
" She's just pulled a gun on us, Enoch, you think that's negotiable?"
" I think we have a better chance against her than we do against a hollowgast!"
Speaking of which— from below us, the massive jaws of a hollowgast rocketed up and launched us into the air. Emma cried out, Enoch swore, and I grabbed onto the wooden board serving as a bench and desperately tried not to throw up.
Its jaws clamped shut.
The world went dark.
For Hunter's live the greatest lives, and die the greatest deaths!