The Rules of Ascension
We left the
town in flames but the captain died of his wounds less than half an hour after
we put out from the burning harbor.
Shrike, an
savage old hand with one eye and six teeth who drooled when he spoke, and his
cadre of backers confronted me in the dim corridor outside the captain's
quarters to challenge my ascension to the captaincy.
“Fenwick,
you son-of-a-whore,” slurred Shrike as he pulled his cutlass out of his belt
and followed me up to the main deck, “one of us'll be dead and the other
captain 'fore this day's through.”
My first
order as captain of the Pogue Mahone was to have Shrike's most ardent backers
throw his corpse and then themselves overboard.
Sharks need
to eat, same as us.

Loved your description of Shrike, what an image and well worthy of becoming shark-fodder!
ReplyDeleteAye, me mate. T'were a fine tale indeed, don't ya know. Arrrgh... Scurvy dogs and sons o' whores aplenty. Avast!
ReplyDeleteGreat story.
ReplyDeletePoor old Shrike, just wasn't his day.
*applauds*
ReplyDeleteTough business being leader and getting there is even harder. Great job.
ReplyDeleteWould love to know more!! Expand it into a short story please? Haha
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this! Description is so sharp I saw it play out in my mind's eye. Fenwick is gonna wear the captain's mantle well!
ReplyDeleteDeliciously victorious...especially for those fortunate sharks!
ReplyDeleteLove this, Anna! Great image of Shrike. :) Strike for Shrike!
ReplyDelete