[ToroMor]

“Captain! Ye boat labors like an ole drunk whore!”

Captain Blacksoul held himself close to the steering wheel. The “La Morte Negro” was riding on tower high waves of utmost blackness. Thunderclouds stormed the skies and lightnings pounded the boiling sea. Still the ship was in full sail. He gave the man that addressed him a heavy knock and the old seadog slipped on the swimming deck.

„Man overboard!“

The face of Jack Blacksoul was frozen in a demonic grimace. In the past battle, his bride got almost shot into splinters by the cursed Spaniards and one of their shots had also severely disfigured his own face.

“Main sail split!”

With blood crusted and empty eyeholes, Jack routed his mortally wounded bride deeper into the watery hell. No one among the last souls of his crew dared to disobey his command. They all were willing to follow their captain to the roots of the cruel ocean and were awaiting their doom while still fighting the storm.

“The ship hath spent her masts!!”

While clenching to the steering wheel with all his strength, Jack’s body was flung on the planks by the merciless power of the tempest and he lost his grip. Now, he was in Davy’s grip. Blacksoul could feel the hot breath of the devil amidst the icy spray and he could hear his deadly whisper over the roaring thunder.

“Cap’n, Cap’n!”

Jack slowly opened an eye. He was apparently lying face down under a table on the dirt stained floor of a murky tavern. Two of his crew were trying to pull him to his feet. He felt blood running through his face. Apparently from the shards of two shattered rum bottles. Splash! An attending fat woman emptied a bucket of water in the Captain’s face. With a disgusted expression, he spat on the floor. “Begad, freshwater!” With doddering knees, Jack stood up. As soon as he managed to stand on his feet, he planted the waitress a clangorous slap in the face. The fat wench cursed him and ran away while he took a seat. He shook off his drunkenness and refilled his Black Jack with rum.
The core of his crew was sitting in the half-light around the table and they laughed and joked about the scene. Jack looked at them. They were few but selected men, the scum of earth, the most reckless and drunken bastards sailing the seven seas. But the same moment, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud cheering coming from a table at the opposite side of the tavern. Apparently, a boastful bunch of pirates were praising themselves. Jack snarled, then shut one of his nostrils with a finger and honked on the floor. “Arrrrg, look at ye darn lubbers! Me is like feed the fish with’em.”