This is something i never intend to continue...i only wanted to see what kind of reviews i got concerning the kind of action that i write! thanks!
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O god what had he just done? After Simon had thrown the cannonball with full force on the captains windows, fighting had immediately broke out. No one on board had been caught off guard, for all had been anticipating this night for weeks. The captain drew his long saber, knocking aside a large shard of glass hurtling at him. Without a doubt, it was enough noise to alert Kilburn lock away in the captains cupboards, and with one heavy kick, he was out in his cabin with his own drawn sword.
Now even though both Cain and Simon were the greatest fighters on the ship, the captain followed close behind them, he being a fair fighter with his saber. After not more than half a minute of combat in the cabin, Kilburn lay slain on the floor, blood spreading across the floor from his neck.
Meanwhile, Cain had vanished up the mainmast drawing one of his deadly knives and hiding in wait. Simon himself looked horrifically down at his own crossbow. Where once was one of his black arrows, it was now gone and fixed in the chest of one of the captains followers, Medley. Simon never recalled being that close of a friend with Medley, but remembered a few of their conversations they had had when fishing—they were quite pleasant.
Kemp, another of the captains loyal, had suddenly sprung out from the side of the ship rather close to where Smithy and Harley were located and flung the very same cannonball Simon had thrown, back at him. Kemp was a strong sailor, and the steel ball flew with incredible speed. Fortunately for Simon, his reflexes were only so much quicker, and he dived out of the way where the cannonball through the door leading to the cabin in which Jim was. Wooden splinters flew everywhere, one smaller one planting itself in Simon’s arm. He flinched with pain, but rose and went to see of Jim was alright.
Jim had jumped with fright at the sudden happening, and fell knocking the table over with himself. He got up and pulled a old pistol from his belt. Simon burst through the cabin door (which now had a fair sized hole in it), and loaded his crossbow once more.
“S-Simon, what in god’s name is goin’ on!? It’s not the—the—is it?”
“Jim, lad, there’s no more fearing to be done in speaking the name of mutiny, for it’s happening here and now. Now about choosing sides….” Simon raised an eyebrow.
Jim couldn’t take in the fact that mutiny was happening at the moment for it overwhelmed him, and he wailed, throwing up his arms. “We’re all going to die anyway, I just know it! The end of our ship’s men is here! The devil has come to claim us all!” And with that he bound up the cabin steps with frenzied eyes into the stormy night on deck, casting aside his pistol, and threw himself overboard into the enraged waves. Simon ran up just to catch a glimpse of Jim sinking down to his own death, and cried out his name for one last time.
Really, he shouldn’t have done that, for the next thing Simon knew, Kemp was on top of him wrestling him on to the deck. His crossbow had been knocked from his hands, and lay about eight or so feet from his reach. Simon had never known that Kemp was actually this strong, and had no more of a chance than a small child wrestling his older brother.
Kemp had him pinned down with only one arm, while the other drew a small skinning knife. “Let’s decorate yer, shall we?” He said nastily and brought the gleaming blade to Simon’s face. Simon, with all his might, tried to free himself from Kemp’s grasp, thought nothing worked. He pushed with all his might against his shoulders, though knew it was all over for him when he felt the cold steel to his cheek, and the small trickle of warm blood run down his face. Simon was just about to give up, when he suddenly felt the straining muscles of Kemp’s body go limp.
Simon looked up into Kemp’s face to see inert eyes staring coldly down at him, and blood suddenly spewed forth from the side of his mouth. It was horrible indeed, though Simon was no doubt relieved when he realized the bloody inch of a blade protruding from Kemp’s neck. Simon threw the lifeless body aside and looked up to see Cain still concealed in the shadows with yet another knife drawn. Simon tried to catch a moment of rest to get his breath back though wiped the blood from his face, and retrieved his crossbow when he heard gun shots from somewhere high up.
Must be John and Grim…. Simon ran down ship once again to the captain’s cabin dodging more shattering glass as the bullets smashed the remainder of the windows to bits. Simon tried to think of all the crew on board that were already dead and it hurt him just to think of it, but he had to, to know how many men against him and Cain still needed death.
It was still raining steadily, when Simon loaded another black, barbed arrow to his crossbow, crouched behind a water barrel, and aimed readily at the destroyed cabin. Without warning, more gunshots came again, this time from the captain himself somewhere in his wrecked hiding place. A small, muffled yelp came from the poop deck and a splash was heard amidst the stormy waves. Great, now there’s only me, Cain and either John or Grim still left. Captain’s holding up fairly well, I’ll give him that! But someone else had to have given those shots…the captain was never good with a gun…Stalwart Stanley! Of course! How did I forget?
Simon had forgotten all about Stalwart Stanley, a man who had always been loyal to the captain, and now fighting alongside him. A long wait was drawn out for a while, and everyone still alive on board waited for the other person’s next move. Nothing happened for a few minutes, which seemed like eternity to Simon, when he heard shouting from the cabin. It was the captain, and he was calling a treaty with Simon and Cain.
Of course, the storm at the present drowned out every word the captain shouted, and sounded like muffled orders to Stanley, his last follower alive. The captain, now so fatigued with battle, was rather foolish at the point and revealed himself from what was left of his cabin still calling a treaty with them. Not knowing what he was saying, Simon involuntarily let loose his barbed arrow with extraordinary swiftness.
In a few moments, the captain was letting out a few strangled chokes at the black arrow of Simon stuck through his body just above his collar bone, while at the same time trying to remove the lethal blade of Cain embedded in his stomach.
Shortly after, only then did everyone emerge from their places, confident that they were all safe from further fighting. They gathered around in a circle about mid-ship and said nothing. All heads were lowered and they’re eyes stared with sorrow at the loss of men that night. Simon noticed that John stood among them. Grim had been shot.
Everyone stared on with grief—all, other than Cain. Simon caught the light of malicious victory in the back of his eyes. There was no penitence at all. He longed to be a new captain of the ship. Him and Simon, of course. Simon himself huffed silently allowing the rain to wash away the last of his gathering tears and let a small smile appear on his own lips as well. It didn’t matter of course, no one could see. His brown hair hung over his face, rain battered.
“Well, Cain, Simon,” John looked over and nodded at the two. “The ship’s at your service now—what’ll you have us do. If you don’t mind my suggestion but I think we ought ta’ save our own hides from this storm….”
“Yes, John, I agree with you,” Stanley spoke. “That is, of course, if the cap’ns permit it.
Only then, did Simon and Cain raise their heads and look at each other, both smiling widely. “First off!” Cain said chuckling. “Let’s get me and Simon up to the steering and celebrate our new occupation aboard the ship!” He strode over to Simon and put an arm around his companion. “C’mon mate, lets go….” And with that, Stanley and John watched as their new captains walked with pride to the head of the ship as well deserved captains (so they thought), and the two followed close behind.
They were finally all together at the head of the ship, Cain leaning against the beautiful head of the hawk carved of wood. “Simon, my friend,” Cain eventually called out to him, though to Simon it appeared as if he were saying it to the waves. “Look at all of this! This whole ship—it all belongs to…do you know?”
Simon smiled. “A captain.”
“Yes!” Cain laughed and grinned. But it was not a friendly one either. He suddenly walked dangerously over to Simon. “And you very well know who that captain is!”
“Indeed I do! Cain, you and I have more than honorably earned this ship together! And together we will….” Simon felt himself being suddenly shoved and half flying, tripping over himself. He flinched as his thigh dug into the railing of the ship, and sensed himself being tossed over the side. He reached out for anything, as he felt himself falling to the mad water below. Luckily his hands grasped the railing, and he hung in awe on the side of the ship.
Cain slowly, evilly sauntered over to the helpless man dangling with one hand on the wooden railing. “Simon, Simon,” He said pitifully and shook his head. “You should have known by now, all this time!” John and Stanley could only watch in horror at the event taking place.
“Simon, don’t you know that a ship can only have one, that’s it, one captain to command it?” He leaned over and leered at the poor Simon trying to rescue himself. “And that captain would be me, Simon! You didn’t actually think you would rule this vessel along with me now, did you? Well if so you’re wrong! It can only hold me as its captain….”
“Well why can’t you at least keep me like John and Stalwart Stanley over there?” Simon groaned, trying to haul himself up, though it didn’t help against the mighty wind howling.
“Because, Simon, you’re too much of a threat to me. I can’t allow you on here knowing in another week or so another mutiny will take place! And so in saying that, I am getting frustrated and tired. It was a pleasure to have you as a mate, Simon—I’ll give you that.” He hissed his last words and with that, grabbed Simon’s wrist and flung him out to the raging ocean. Both John and Stanley gasped, but dare not make a move for fear of Cain.
Simon plunged under the water and immediately was tossed like a rag doll in the waves. He struggled to surface, and when he did, he gasped for air and just like the man he was, immediately thought of what he could possibly do.
Simon undid the belt on his back holding is crossbow and drew it. It was more than difficult having to load several arrows into a crossbow, while at the same time being thrown up and down and treading water with only your legs at the same time—but Simon was one who could do all three at once.
Before long, he was aiming three barbed arrows for the ship he was just on, now about thirty yards away. Cain, and the two men saw this, and in thinking the three arrows were intended for them, dropped down on their stomachs. Instead, when all three arrows were released, they struck their target perfectly, digging themselves deep into an empty barrel.
Simon, now, was not a stupid man and of course had the arrows connected to a long rope he always wore around his belt. Now all he had to do was wait for the ship to sail farther away until the barrel was hauled overboard by the arrows. And it was not to long before that happened. Cain was furious as he finally rose to see the barrel bounce over the railing and into the sea.
He snarled and shouted orders to the two men, as he himself grabbed a hold of the steering. Simon, meanwhile, swam the short distance over to the barrel and got himself a firm grip around it.
He heaved a sigh of relief and firmed his grip even tighter. Simon was safe—for now, at least. And all through the night, long after the ship had disappeared from view, he cried out to the sea—not that his tears could make his face any wetter. Cried out for the many men lost on board that night. Cried for his hard-earned title as a captain though never received the opportunity to give a single command to anyone. And cried for not knowing what in the world was going to happen to him next or how long he could survive.
Nathan D. Gage