We come on the sloop John B,

My grandfather and me,

Around Nassau town we did roam,

Drinkin’ all night, Got into a fight,

Well, I feel so broke up, I wanna go home.

Electricity crackled through the night sky as Tristram plunged his blade through the heart of his foe. With a blood-curdling scream, the pirate fell to the captain’s feet. Tristram pulled the cutlass free, kicking the downed foe aside before wiping the blood-stained blade clean. He lowered the blade from his sleeve, his gaze wondering about the raging battle around him.

“What’s the plan, Cap’n?”

Tristram turned to the call, his eyes softening as they fell on a pot-bellied sailor drenched in blood and rain. “We fight, Lucky. We have to push them back.”

“But how? They’re slaughtering us. There isn’t a soldier among us. Just sailors and city folk.”

“That may be so, but we outnumber them. Now quit your blubbering and fight!” The captain returned to the battle, spinning around just in time to intercept a plunging rapier from impaling his gut.

He flicked the sword aside, twisting on his heels to deliver a blow of his own. He hooked his left arm around the pirate’s shoulder, pulling the man off balance as his cutlass flew towards the man’s neck. The edge of the blade caught the pirate’s windpipe. The man squealed in desperation before being muted as his gullet splayed open.

With a kick, the captain shoved the man to the floor, flinging his cutlass upright as his gagging foe crumpled before him. These pirates were ruthless. It had been many years since he was engaged in a battle with forces as strong as these men. They weren’t some low-life thieves. No, these pirates were skilled warriors.

A howl of an attacker marked Tristram’s next opponent. The pirate, a scrawny tree of a man, charged forward, his twin blades raised high above his head. The man screamed as he flew towards the captain, the thin wisps of his mustache bouncing in the breeze as he moved.

The captain pivoted on his heels, meeting the pirate’s blades at arm length. He repelled each stroke the pirate made, his feet dancing in retreat as his attacker pressed his attack. Sparks flew from the clashing blades as the pair continued their dance. Over and under Tristram’s cutlass flew, meeting each stroke with a deafening clang.

The pirate spun forward, flipping a blade in his hand before crossing it against the pair. He pushed the edges together, catching the captain’s blade between them. With a swish, the pirate flung his swords to the side, ripping Tristram’s blade from his hand.

Tristram spun to the side as his sword clattered to the floor. Without missing a beat, his hand flew to his belt. He ripped his pistol free, his thumb cocking the hammer back as he locked the sights on the pirate.

The pirate halted his advance, the color fading from his face as the captain’s finger tugged on the trigger.

Thunk. Pop.

Tristram’s satisfied grin fell to a confused scowl as a thin wisp of smoke floated from the pistol’s chamber. His opponent’s lips curled into a smile as the captain lowered his weapon in defeat.

“Wet powder,” the pirate cackled before raising his blade for a final attack.

Tristram grimaced in detest, flipping the pistol in the air before catching the barrel in his hands. He flung the handle forward, smacking the oncoming blade with its wooden grips. The pirate’s blade sunk into the handle, its sharp teeth chomping down with an iron grip.

The pirate flipped the sword to the side, tossing the captain’s weapon from his hand and into the sea of combatants. He howled in laughter as the captain scrambled backwards, falling to the floor before the pirate. The pirate slinked forward, lifting his blade for a final blow.

Splurt!

Tristram’s widened eyes blinked as a sea of red sprayed his jacket. His brow arched as the pirate’s sword clattered to the floor. His foe’s jaw fell open as his tiny fingers rushed to the sharp point that had appeared in his chest. A glossy haze filled the pirate’s eyes as the tip slid back, forcing the pirate to slump to the floor.

“Wet powder, Cap’n?” Lucky laughed, offering a hand to his leader.

Tristram accepted the gesture, latching onto his comrade’s plump paw and lifting himself with a grunt. “That was my favorite flint.”

“You’ll find another one,” Lucky chuckled as his captain dusted himself off. “I’m sure there’s some poor bloke here who’ll no longer need theirs.”

“But that was my favorite,” Tristram grumbled with a scowl. “I had the damn thing engraved.”

“Forget the flint,” Lucky replied, returning his attention to the ongoing assault. His light-hearted smile faded as he watched the grim events unfolding before him. “We need a plan.”

“We’re running out of time,” the captain agreed, making his way to his cutlass. He lifted the blade with the toe of his boot, kicking the hilt into his waiting hand.

“Any bright ideas?”

Tristram scoured the landscape, his eyes desperately searching for an answer to turn the tides in his favor. His sights fell on a screaming mare, rearing back on its hind legs as the carriage it held burst in flames. “There,” the captain declared. “The carriage.”

Lucky nodded, his brow arched in uncertainty of the captain’s plan. The pair darted off towards the carriage, twisting and rolling through the raging battle. Lucky reached the carriage first. He rushed to grab the reins of the startled horse. The calm clicks of his tongue soothed the rampaging beast as Tristram cut through the tethered straps of the carriage. “What now?” he called over his shoulder as the beast pulled free.

“You ride,” Tristram screamed, spinning on his heels to intercept the sweeping blade of a pirate. The captain knocked the attack away before plunging his cutlass into the leg of his attacker. With a yelp, the pirate tumbled forward as Tristram pulled his blade free. “Get to the ship. Use the cannons. I’ll rally a crew and meet you there.”

“Aye,” Lucky agreed, flipping himself atop the mare’s back as Tristram slapped the mare’s ass.

“Now ride!”