Seizure

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CANNONS THUMPED IN the distance.

Boom! Boom!

Final, frustrated salvos that faded with the dying light.

Wind screamed and lightning slashed a bruise-purple sky. Thunder clapped. Rain drummed the heaving forecastle deck.

Nervous shouts ricocheted as the crew struggled to trim the mainsail. Instructions. Curses. Prayers.

Revenge crested an enormous wave, then listed hard to port as a massive gust shoved her sideways. Timbers groaned. Voices bellowed in panic.

The pirate ship vibrated with an unnatural hum, moments from capsizing.

Seconds passed. Eons.

Then, mercifully, Revenge dropped into a deep trough. Shielded from the fierce gale, she slowly righted herself.

The deck leveled.

The shouts morphed into dark laughter, the giddy excitement of those pulled back from the brink. Backs were slapped. Grins spread like plague.

To all but one.

A tiny figure huddled alone on the quarterdeck, clutching the stern rail. Her body was drenched. Wind danced her hair, ripped at her shirt, bandana, and velvet waistcoat.

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