Rogue Waters
I mount the telescope and peer into it. The boat approached at high speed. The sailor, a ferocious-looking gray-haired man with some face wrinkles and a worn-out badge pinned to his chest. I couldn't see what was written on it, as the clouds around were very thick but the badge seemed familiar.
“A sea lord,” I gasp. My gaze was fastened on his face as he sailed towards us. “He's alone, though,” I yell. A whiff of strong alcohol hits me as Sean slurs out, “That's a first.” He's been drinking since the crack of dawn. I move away, giving him space to see for himself.
“Don't be so sure,” Darrell, another crew member, mutters. “Prepare to shoot,” the captain orders, and all the men with guns who stood on standby cock their guns, their fingers on the trigger, ready to fire.
We were pirates and once in a while, we got attacked by other pirates. They mostly used the tactic of pretending to be wounded and in need of urgent help, but before one could say jack, they attacked the ship. We've lost some crew members because of falling for that clumsy trick, but not anymore. Our captain had become ruthless. He no longer cared even if it were an innocent wounded puppy.
I push Sean away and gaze at the old man again. His head, now raised, seemed as if he was looking me in the eyes. The clouds that blurred out his appearance didn't stop me from seeing his little smirk. Then suddenly, his face is stern and he raises his hands in surrender, and the boat slows down a little bit.
“Err, I think the old man wants to talk,” I report, without taking my eyes off the man. I look even more closely, surveying the water around him, and I notice little movements.
“Dude's got company,” I say frantically. The men with guns are looking on, waiting for the captain's order. He grabs the telescope and peers into it, “You just dug your own grave,” the captain doesn't properly pronounce the last syllable when a bullet hits the pole on our ship. The captain crouches down and the engine of the enemy boat revs up, and people began jumping out of the water like zombies.
They opened fire, so we fired back. Bullets are flying around. I duck down a little, still watching them through the spyglass. I'm giving out information as a bullet brushes past my ears. It stings, but I don't take my eyes off the old man. I grit my teeth when I see him grin. He's got about four gold teeth and a very terrible smile.
My brows are furrowed and I lift my shirt up and pull out my Glock. My eyes are still on him as I aim for his forehead. “Goodbye, Goliath,” I mutter and pull the trigger, paying close attention to the bullet's movement.
It hits him and he drops into the water. I smile satisfactorily and watch as the remaining of them try to turn the boat around. They succeed in turning it around, which puts an end to the violent exchange.
“Well done, Jackie,” the captain taps my shoulder. I'm satisfied and stride across the deck. My boots thumping on the wood, giving victorious sounds. I crash on one of the seats and relive the moment.
“You got better at aiming, Jack,” Sean says, leaning over as he puts the first aid kit on my lap. His lips curved up in a smile as he dipped the cotton wool in spirit to clean the wound. I groan as it reaches my ear. “I forgot to warn you,” he teased and I twitched my nose. “You drink too much, Sean.”