The harbor and its small hamlet of minor houses was under the watchful eye of the three deadliest pirates on the high seas: The Dread Pirate Roberts, Captain Spade, and Martin Lefthook. They were, however, unawares of each other: Roberts’ ship was safely tucked behind a jetty, Spade’s ship was anchored just around the bend of a nearby satellite island, and Lefthook’s crew was actually in the port. Having just “commandeered” a merchant ship, they had stopped here to begin outfitting the ship to their more singular needs, and hadn’t even changed the flag. * Roberts was confident. Dressed in his signature black, he strode the length of the deck, pensively in thought. His crew waited, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice; they were used to his slicing orders out of the air, pieces from a larger scheme floating in front of him. * He was, of course, the smartest and wiliest of all pirates, and had a feeling: something wasn’t right. He adjusted his black leather gloves and motioned to his Quartermaster, who, as if reading his mind, was already bringing him his telescope. He looked at the small houses dotted along the harbor. The merchant ship. The line of trees, swaying lightly in the setting sun. * “Something isn’t right here,” he said, handing back the telescope. The crew, as if this were an order, all nodded in unison. * Captain Spade was a giant man, the strongest of all the pirates. His crew contained the broadest, surliest, and most dangerous of every nationality he had ever visited, all brimming with dangerous-looking swords and weapons. They all fought with each other over a position to take on the deck while Spade paced the deck, chopping at the railing with his sword while looking at the harbor. He was himself armed like three ordinary men, his face and half-naked body scarred and browned from a life of ripping open ships and wayward sailors with his bare hands while cruising the Mediterranean. He had once killed an orangutan, the legend said. Spade and his men only bent themselves to kill and reap the spoils. To burn and take. To rape, pillage. They were an entire powder keg, ready to explode and envelop their victim in flames. * “We will wait,” he said. “We will wait until the town sleeps.” He chopped at the railing again, looking at the line of trees, waving him over to them. “Then we will destroy it and move inland to take what waits to be ours.” * His crew grunted, like an evil and wicked prayer. * Captain Lefthook and his men were mostly below decks of their new ship. Lefthook was brash and courageous, dressed to the height of French fashion, his crew a small, diamond-hard unit, used to the heavy casualties that came with his fearless direction. This last operation had yielded a ship, this ship, but they lost ten men in a daring exploit, Lefthook at the center while pistols fired and swords swooped around him. * They were busy deciding how best to convert their new ship. Cannons here. This deck will have an armory. Booty will be held here, we’ll change this…Lefthook was interrupted by his most trusted sailor, a wily, wiry, suspicious man named Oil. Armed with an uncanny ability to find answers and information, Oil was despised amongst the rest of the crew, since he had betrayed many of them in battle to save himself. * “Captain,” he said, his voice thrilled to give news that would lead to action. “I have surveyed the area, and I believe you should come on deck.” * Lefthook looked to Oil, then started for the steps. * “Captain, I suggest you put on one of the Mariner’s uniforms.” * Lefthook turned. “There is no man I should be afraid of, Oil.” The crewmembers raised their eyebrows and adjusted; an opportunity, finally, to dispose of Oil? * “Captain,” Oil said, his head bowed in a melodramatic display of submission. “I am more than aware of your supremacy. However, we are not the only pirates here. And since we are still under the guise of a merchant vessel, we should take advantage of the opportunity for disguise.” * Oil led Lefthook’s gaze to the small island. “…And there, sir. Amongst the trees on the Eastern…” * “I see it. It’s Spade, all right.” Lefthook handed the telescope to Oil. “Roberts and Spade.” * “Could they be here to destroy us, captain?” Asked the Sailing Master. * “There’s no way they could know we took this ship,” Lefthook answered. He turned from the waters and looked to the harbor. The small houses. The line of trees, hiding something. “Why would Roberts and Spade come…here?” He took a step across the deck. “Perkins. Assemble the men. We’re going to take Spade’s ship tonight. Oil.” * “Yes, sir.” * “I want to know what’s here. What would bring them both here.” * Oil nodded, his smile more like a jarring scar.
