A Pirate's Paradise

1786 the West Indies

"Well, Mates, the jury is in agreement," cried First Mate Walter Crenna. "We find the Captain guilty. What the punishment, then, as it's you he's wronged, lads?"

Darien Keane, Captain of the Widowmaker for at least a few more moments, glared impartially at his mutinous crew. His bloody First Mate, for fuck's sake, putting him on trial, when he and Walter both knew who had sold off the best of the crew's cut at the last port of call.

Cowardly bastard.

The sun beat down on Darien's head as the men clamored for his untimely end, his hat long lost in his struggles to free himself. He fought the grimace that tried to form when Walter tugged his bound hands, so long tied behind him that his arms screamed in agony with every movement.

"Quiet!" Walter shouted, and an uneasy silence fell. "Whipping and to the fishes, then?"

"Whipping, aye," piped up the bosun, George, who had ever been loyal to Darien. "But we'll set him out somewhere he's got a chance. You've given us no proof, Walter. None."

Darien smiled a little at his only champion since this whole mess had begun, nodding his head. George had let the men shout him down several times, but this time he seemed intent on holding fast.

"I'll shoot any man who tries to put him on the plank," George said, and he was a good enough shot with the black powder pistol he held in his hand that the men backed away from him. "Yer all stupid and blind, you are. Captain's been good to us, he has. You'll regret it."

Good man, that George. The men subsided somewhat, murmuring amongst themselves until Walter began again.

"I still intend to exercise my arm against his back!" Walter shouted. "Who's with me?"

Darien sighed. Right bastard. He tilted his head up to watch the sky, the sun dazzling his eyes. It made it easier, for when Walter pulled his head back down the faces of the men faded into a spotty blur, and Darien could not see their bloodlust. The rough cuff to the back of his skull cleared that right out as his eyes watered, however, and lost all of his good work.

"Well, Captain," Walter said, spitting the last word. "Have any last thing to say for yourself?"