Chapter 5: Blood and Brotherhood

The sun dawned a blood red on the horizon as the Ranger closed in on her next prey, a Spanish barque heavy with silver and supplies. Hornigold had spotted the ship at dusk the day before, and through the long night the pirates had stalked it, keeping just out of sight. Now morning light glinted off the Spaniard’s cannons and the fluttering gold-and-crimson flag at her stern. It was a formidable vessel, better armed and manned than the merchant they’d taken weeks ago.

On the quarterdeck, Hornigold’s eyes gleamed with predatory focus. “No quartermaster,” he had told Remy quietly earlier, “We need provisions and coin. The men are restless. We take her.” It wasn’t just greed driving him, the crew’s morale required a victory after the terrors they’d faced.

Edward stood on the main deck beside Jack, checking the priming on a flintlock pistol he’d earned after the last fight. His mouth was dry with anticipation. This battle would be their fiercest yet. Around them, the crew prepared in grim silence: sharpening cutlasses, loading muskets, strapping leather and bits of canvas around their arms as makeshift armor.

Jack caught Edward’s eye and grinned, though their fingers twitched on the hilt of their sword. “Ready for round two?”

Edward forced a confident smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He tightened a rag around his wrist to improve his grip. The truth was, fear coiled in his gut. Not of dying, he had made peace that any day could be his last, but of failing his new family.

With a sudden crack, the Spanish ship spotted them and fired the first shot. A plume of smoke rose from her stern. The ball splashed short of the Ranger’s bow, warning them off.

Hornigold answered with actions. “Battle stations!” he roared. The black flag of death unfurled to the topmast; oars were run out to increase maneuverability in the light morning wind.

Both ships opened fire in earnest. The sea between them churned with geysers and sea spray  as cannonballs struck water. The Ranger closed the distance swiftly. Edward worked beside Jack and two others to swab and load a deck gun, muscles burning as they rammed powder and shot again and again. Each thunderous blast made his ears ring. Acrid smoke billowed, turning daylight to a hellish haze.

“Chain shot! Take out her mainmast!” Israel Hands bellowed. Edward and Jack heaved the linked iron balls into place. A moment later, the cannon bucked hard. Through the smoke, Edward glimpsed a satisfying sight: the Spanish barque’s mainmast splintering under the impact, its sails collapsing in a tangle of rigging and canvas.

A cheer went up from the pirates, short-lived as return fire raked across the Ranger. Wood exploded near Edward, showering him in hot splinters. A man screamed. Edward whirled and saw Abel, the young sailor he’d saved from the sirens, staggering back from a cannon, clutching his neck as blood gushed between his fingers. He collapsed, eyes wide and glassy. Edward’s stomach lurched. There was no time to check if Abel lived; Hornigold was already swinging their ship alongside the crippled Spaniard.

“Boarders away!” Hornigold shouted, brandishing his cutlass.

Grappling hooks flew and clamped onto the enemy rail. With a feral cry, the pirates swarmed. Edward vaulted over the gap, Jack right at his heels. They landed on the Spaniard’s deck and plunged into chaos.

Spanish marines in blue coats met them with leveled bayonets. Edward ducked a thrust and discharged his pistol point-blank into a soldier’s chest. The man fell, and Edward snatched up his musket to parry another attacker’s blade. Around him, steel rang on steel and men roared in fury or pain.

He caught a flash of Jack’s dark hair beside him as they fought with swift agility, tangling a Spaniard’s sword with their own and smashing their elbow into his jaw. They moved almost back-to-back, covering each other instinctively amid the melee.

A burly marine lunged at Edward with a cutlass. Edward barely deflected, the shock jolting up his arm. The man pressed in, face contorted. Suddenly, the marine jerked and gasped, a bloody point of a blade protruding from his ribs. Jack had run him through from the side. They yanked their sword free and nodded tersely to Edward. He had no time to thank them as more Spaniards closed in.

The deck quickly grew slick with blood. Hornigold was dueling the dashing Spanish captain near the helm, while Israel Hands led a savage charge that split the defenders’ line. One by one, the Spaniards began to break and surrender, throwing down their arms.

Just as victory seemed within grasp, a shot cracked from above. A hidden marksman in the ship’s rigging fired into the knot of pirates. Edward heard Jack cry out. Jack had stumbled into Edward’s arm with their sword clattering to the deck from their hand.

Edward’s heart seized. A red stain spread on Jack’s now tattered, loose white shirt at the shoulder, drooping open the shirt slightly. Jack and Edward locked eyes. Biting their lip, Jack blushed and quickly broke the gaze before anyone else could notice. The shooter had aimed for the head but the ball grazed down to the upper arm instead.

Rage quickly flooded Edward. He spotted the musketman up in the shrouds, frantically reloading. Edward snatched his new pistol from his makeshift leather holster and fired true. The Spaniard silently toppled from the ship's intricate rigging, thudding deeply onto the planks with finality.

All around, the fight was ending. The remaining Spanish crew were on their knees, weapons tossed aside. But Edward barely noticed as he eased Jack down behind a coil of rope. Jack's face had gone ashen, lips pressed thin to stifle a groan.

“You’re hit,” Edward murmured, roughly ripping off the entirety of his own sleeve. His hands shook as he pressed the cloth to Jack’s bleeding shoulder.

Jack mustered a weak smirk. “It’s… nothing,” they said through gritted teeth, though pain glazed into their eyes like stale white paint on a wall.

Hornigold’s voice rose above the din: the Spanish ship was theirs. A ragged cheer sounded, but Edward paid it no heed. He carefully peeled back Jack’s shirt at the wound to assess the damage. The musket ball had grazed along the upper arm, a bloody furrow just below the shoulder. Not too deep, mercifully.

As he tied the cloth tight, Jack winced. Their free hand reflexively clutched their chest, where the loosened shirt gaped. Beneath, Edward glimpsed something binding at the torso, strips of linen wound extremely tight. It took him an extra beat to realize what he was seeing: the unmistakable curves the bindings tried to conceal.

Edward froze like stone, eyes widening. Jack noticed. For a moment their gazes locked, panic flaring in Jack’s deep green eyes brighter than any pain.

Edward gathered himself and quickly looked away, raising his arm to shield her from any prying eyes in the aftermath on deck. Fortunately, the crew was too busy corralling prisoners and securing loot to notice them behind the mast.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, low and urgent. “I won’t… I won’t say anything.”

Jack swallowed hard, fearful tears of relief brimming. “Thank you,” she weakly whispered back.

Gently, Edward helped her shrug her shirt back up firmly and readjusted the binding enough to hide the evidence. His mind swirled: Jack, no, she had been living as one of them all this time. It explained much: her slight build, the secrecy, the quick way she deflected questions about her past, immunity to the songs of the sirens. Admiration and protectiveness surged like a race horse into Edward’s chest. How much courage must it have taken for her to sail among the roughest men, always in danger of discovery, or worse.

His own shoulder throbbed suddenly, and he realized a sword slash had grazed him at some point; a crimson stripe stained his sleeve. He barely felt it. “Can you stand?” he asked.

“With your help,” Jack replied softly.

Edward looped her good arm around his neck and lifted her to her feet. Together they emerged from cover. Only then did Edward notice the extent of the carnage. Bodies lay strewn across the deck, both Spanish and pirate. A few of Hornigold’s men sat slumped, bleeding from wounds as others tried to tend them. The captured Spaniards huddled under guard, faces drawn.

Hornigold approached, splattered with gore but victorious. “Losses?” he barked at Remy.

Remy’s expression was grim. “Nine dead, five wounded of ours.” He pointed to the still form of Abel laying lined up among the fallen family. “Abel’s gone,” he said quietly.

Edward’s heart sank. The young man he’d saved once, now lost to a cannon blast. Around him, the other pirates bowed their heads. Abel was well liked; he’d been barely of age to serve an English navy vessel for Poseidon’s sake!

Hornigold nodded stiffly, brief sorrow in his eyes that he quickly masked. “We’ll mourn him and the others properly.” He then noticed Jack leaning on Edward, blood on both of them. “Jack, are ya wounded?”

“Just a graze,” Jack said quickly, straightening. She managed a grin, though her voice trembled. “Edward saved my hide.”

“And he saved mine,” Edward added firmly and confidently.

Hornigold looked between them and gave a terse nod of approval. “Good. See the surgeon when we return to the Ranger.” He raised his voice to address the crew. “This ship is ours! Gather all the powder, food, and coin you can carry. Make it fast, Spanish patrols could be near. Once clear, set fire to the vessel to cover our trace.”

As the crew sprang into action, Hornigold knelt by Abel’s body and gently closed the young man’s staring eyes. “We take care of our own,” Edward heard the captain murmur.

It struck Edward then how deeply Hornigold cared for each individual in his crew, beyond just assets for plunder. The promised family was real in its own rough way.

An hour later, the pirates returned to the Ranger laden with crates of flour, barrels of salted meat, kegs of gunpowder, and a small chest of gleaming silver coins, hard-won spoils. The captured Spanish vessel, stripped and scuttled, burned slowly and sank behind them, claimed by fire and the sea.

On deck, a somber ritual took place. The bodies of Abel and the other fallen pirates were sewn into spare sailcloth with cannonballs lashed to their feet. As dusk colored the sky in bruised purples, Hornigold led the crew in a brief, gruff eulogy. “They lived free and died bravely,” he said, voice carrying over the gentle waves. “We’ll see them only as family on the far shore one day after sailing to where no map reaches.” Hornigold then turned to the sea back to the crew. He stood to attention and saluted the sea and fallen brothers. 

The crew echoed the salutation in agreement. Many eyes glistened with tears held in check by pride. Edward felt Jack squeeze his hand. When had she taken it? Can anyone see? Edward looked around and realized they were alone in the back of the group and he quickly returned the pressure gratefully.

At Hornigold’s nod, two men tilted the plank. One by one, the shrouded bodies slid into the sea with a splash, disappearing beneath the endless waves. The pirates removed their hats and stood together as family in reverent silence.

After a long moment, Hornigold again spoke, but softer. “Tonight, we remember them. And we remember that we sail as brothers.” He raised a bottle of rum and took a swig, then passed it to Remy. The bottle went around, each crew member drinking to the fallen. When it reached Edward, he hesitated just a second, he had never truly been part of a toast like this. Then Jack nudged him, smiling through her pain, and he drank deeply. The fine Spanish rum burned his throat and lit a warm fire in his belly.

“To Abel, and to us all,” Edward said, voice rough but resolute. 

A ragged cheer answered him. In that moment, under the gathering night, the men of the Ranger closed ranks tighter than ever. They had shed blood together and for each other. They were pirates, outlaws to the world, but here on this creaking deck they were also family.

As the stars emerged, Edward helped Jack down to the surgeon. His own wound was minor, but he insisted she be treated first. While the surgeon stitched Jack’s arm by lantern light, Edward sat beside her. Their secret hung unspoken between them, a bond now forged in trust.

Jack met Edward’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered in her real voice. Yet ever softly so the surgeon wouldn’t hear.

Edward simply smiled. “We watch out for each other. Always.”

Above, on the darkening deck, the crew sang a hoarse shanty to honor their dead and bolster their hearts. Edward hummed the familiar shanty along under his breath. Despite the ache of loss, he felt a fierce pride. They had proven themselves to one another in blood and brotherhood. Whatever lay ahead, curses, monsters, or worse, they would face it together, as one.