Dawn broke over the hill. The slavers in the camp below barely caught a wink of sleep, though the slaves that had been whipped to within an inch of their lives slept even less. But even as they toiled through the night collecting food, water and fuel for their fires, they possessed between them a kind of cavalier spirit, because they had heard whispers in the dark.

Those same whispers were enough to rob sleep from the Spanish, and as the sun crawled over the horizon, they knew they had missed their opportunity, unlike the eyes that watched them from the bushes, who knew their opportunity was dawning.

Just as the slavers had wiped the nuggets of stolen sleep from their eyes and managed to count their "stock" back into their manacles, their blood ran cold when a petrified wail reached their ears. All of them jumped bolt upright and trembled as the screech grew louder and shriller.

A girl with pale skin and curls the colour of copper burst from the brush, sobbing and screaming like a banshee, wild with terror.

'¡Rebeldes!' Tears streamed down her face, her eyes raw and red. '¡Rebeldes en el bosque!'

'Go on, you bastards.' Schleckt muttered to himself from under the cover of the thicket. 'Go on. Take the bait.'

'Are you sure she can remember her lines?' Mosi whispered over Martin's shoulder.

'She will. She's clever,' Schleckt assured him. 'Besides, it'll be her performance that sells it.'

'I must say,' the Doctor murmured. 'She is a remarkably good actress.'

'¿Señora?' One of the brightly dressed merchants in a powdered wig rose from beside the fire and tiptoed over to the sobbing girl.

'And here we go,' Schleckt cleared his throat and adjusted his grip on his axe.

'¿Señora? ¿Estás bien?' The merchant bent down to pat the girl's flowing, honey-gold locks.

Martin's hand crept a little closer to the pistol on his belt.

The girl's hands caught the merchant by the collar, and the soldiers at his heel almost leapt out of their skins.

'¡Rebeldes!' she screamed in his face, snot and tears trickling down her lip and cheeks. '¡Fui secuestrado! ¡Escapo! ¡Están detrás de mí! ¡Hay miles de ellos! ¡Por favor, tienes que detenerlos! ¡Apurarse!'

'Perfect,' Mosi whispered. 'She is doing well.'

'Let's just hope our luck holds,' Martin answered.

The merchant wavered slightly as the girl collapsed into another fit of sobs.

'Uh...¡Hombres!' he shouted back at his men, who stood to attention and clutched their muskets to their breasts. 'Encuentra a los rebeldes y acércalos.'

'Yes!' Schleckt and Mosi hissed under their breath in unison.

'What did they say?' the Doctor stammered, eager to share in their excitement.

'He's sending his men into the forest. This could be our-.'

'Me quedaré aquí y cuidaré de esta asutada mujer.'

'Damn!' Schleckt beat his fist against the dirt. 'Damn and blast!'

'What's happened?' Martin hissed. 'What's wrong?'

'The chief warden is staying behind to look after Miss Ealing. Oh, we should have planned for this. Fools!'

'Oh, God,' Jennes moaned as they watched the soldiers scurry into the woods, leaving behind a terrified, trembling merchant and a bewildered woman in a tattered sailor's garb. 'How is she going to keep up the act?'

'Why didn't you teach her more Spanish, you idiot?!' Jacobi grabbed the Doctor Cotral by the collar and shook him.

'There's only so much you can teach someone in a single night, alright?' Cotral wriggled free. 'We're lucky she's got this far without tripping up.'

'Martin? W-what do we do?' the Doctor stammered.

Martin chewed the inside of his cheek as he watched the merchant gesture Emily over to a seat by the fire. She sat down stiffly, her acting suddenly more wooden now that she had run out of material, as the merchant took the place beside her and shuffled up close. She stared down at her knees and her lips pulled tight against her teeth.

'Ulrich,' Martin snapped.

'Yes?' Ulrich furrowed his eyebrow.

Martin nodded at the merchant.

'Can you get a shot at him from here?'

'No, you moron,' Schleckt hissed. 'You'll blow the whole damned plan. They'll hear the shot and come running back.'

'We'll have time,' Martin insisted. 'Just shoot him and have done with it.'

'Don't.' Mosi caught the barrel of the Ulrich's musket and forced it back down to his hip. 'If we alert the soldiers, we will not have enough time to free my brothers. I will not leave them behind.'

Martin ground his teeth as he watched the slaver shuffle a little closer to Emily.

'Asutada mujer.' Martin's heart seized as he watched the slaver's hand brush a lock of Emily's springy red hair behind her ear. Emily didn't move, sitting upright, her eyes wild and searching. 'Debes estar muy asustado. Por favor dígame su nombre, señora.'

Emily stammered, but only a garbled mess of sounds fell out. Her brow was glistening with sweat, her fingers digging into her knees.

'¿Señora? ¿Cómo te llamas?'

'I...I,' Emily stammered. The slaver's stare intensified.

'Screw it,' Martin withdrew his pistol. 'I'll do it myself.'

'No, wait!' Schleckt leapt forward to snatch the gun, but as he stepped forward, a dry twig snapped under his heel.

The slaver's head turned towards them, and they all froze stiff.

Suddenly, Emily jumped into life. In a fraction of a second, she had grabbed the nearest thing to hand - an iron pot - and swung it as hard as she could across the back of the slaver's head, making a hollow, ringing thud as it followed through.

He went limp and sank unconscious into the sand.

'Bloody Hell,' Ulrich exclaimed. 'Well, that's one way to do it.'

Emily dropped to her knees and pawed at the slaver's pockets. An exhilarated expression washed over her face and she leapt to her feet, jangling a jumble of keys in the direction of the thicket.

'Right, this is our cue, boys,' Martin addressed the crew. 'Let's move.'

Together, the nineteen men dashed out from their hiding places in the thicket, towards Emily and the fourteen slaves sitting on the beach in chains.

'Great job, Emily!' Martin took the bunch of keys from her hand and tossed them to Mosi. 'Nice swing, by the way.'

'I know,' Emily chuckled. 'You have no idea how satisfying that was. So, what's next?'

Martin turned to address the crew.

'Mosi, unshackle these men.'

'Aye.' Mosi nodded, then set about unlocking the slaves' bindings.

'Doctor, check them over. See if any are injured before we try to board.'

'Right away, Hamish.'

'Jennes, Jacobi, Ulrich, keep an eye on that treeline. Don't allow the soldiers to reach the beach. You three will be the last to board the boats, but keep your eyes on that treeline as we approach.'

'Aye, sir!' they all concurred, shrugging their muskets from their shoulders and taking up positions with a clear line of sight into the trees.

'Everyone else, take up those skiffs,' Martin pointed to the three empty longboats run aground on a bank of sand. 'Get ready to cast off.'

As the crew turned on their heel and made a dash for the boats, Martin caught Emily by the shoulder.

'You don't have to fight. You've done enough already.'

'No way,' She scoffed. 'I'm not letting you boys have all the fun.'

Martin smirked.

'I thought you'd say that.' He knelt down and unbuckled the sword and pistol belt from around the slaver's waist and handed it to Emily. 'Here. I guess this makes you a real part of the crew now.'

***

The crew reached the side of the frigate without further issue. They flanked her from around the stern, where they read the words "La Señora de España" painted in gold letters on the back. As they approached the starboard side, they heard the hollow footsteps of a few men pacing about on deck.

Martin put a finger to his lips and nodded at the crew as their skiffs drifted closer to the ladder.

'Lay aboard, lads,' Martin whispered. The crew leapt over to the gunports and rigging on the side of the hull, careful not to make a sound. When they had all latched and let the skiffs drift into the current, Martin nodded, and the crew began to climb.

When they had reached the threshold, Martin hung like a monkey waiting for his other companions. As they all caught up and dangled like him from the balustrade, he gave a sharp nod, and over they all sprung.

Martin almost staggered over when his feet hit the deck, the solid boards beneath him sent a shock up his calves. As for the hull, there was no hint of neglect or decay, nor the faintest trace of woodworm or rot. She was in remarkable condition; a true storm-rider.

Of her crew, they did not fare so well. Most of the men who lay around on deck were held together by bandages and rags, some of them barely conscious through a combination of blood-loss and sea sickness. Those who were healthy and upright were swiftly, and quietly seen to.

Mosi and Schleckt caught two of the deckhands gibbering at the bow by the throats and knocked them out. One of the patrolling soldiers was alerted to their presence and was coiling up to raise the alarm, before Ulrich butted him in the side of the head with his musket. Martin leapt forward and stepped on the back of a sailor's knee before he clubbed him across the back of the head with his pistol. He was just in time to watch as Emily kicked a solider in the crotch, then struck him around the cheek with her bare fist. The blow was admirable and did the job of knocking the lights out of the guard, though she swore viciously and pressed her knuckles between her legs to stem the throbbing pain.

'Another great swing,' Martin chuckled.

'Eck, that one didn't feel so good,' she groaned and shook out her hand.

'Martin,' Mosi saluted as the crew gathered around Martin. 'Weather deck is clear. What are your orders?'

'Has anyone checked the hold?' Martin asked.

'Not that I know of,' Ulrich shook his head.

'Right. Jennes, Jacobi, check the rest of the ship. There may be others waiting below. Whoever you find with a fighting spirit, lock them in the brig to keep them out of trouble.'

'Aye, Hamish,' Jennes and Jacobi said.

'Mosi, do you know where in the hold the rest of the slaves are kept?'

'I do,' he nodded.

'Find a way to free them and get them on-side. We need all the help we can get. Ulrich, when they're freed, get them split up into gunning crews as fast as possible. We're not going to be caught short. Use whatever method you have to wheedle out the skilled ones. Doctor, you can help him. See if anyone needs medical attention.'

'Aye, sir,' Mosi, Ulrich and the Doctor nodded.

'Schleckt, use the men we already have and the remaining from the hold to raise anchor and unfurl the sails. Let's waste no time in catching the wind. After that, check to see what provisions we have. We'll want to know how long we can last in open water.'

'Aye, right away,' Schleckt said.

'Emily.'

'Yes Martin?' she beamed at him.

'Try finding the captain of the ship. Take him hostage if you can. He's just a merchant, so he's not likely to be armed.'

'Absolutely, I'll get right on it,' she proudly withdrew her pistol from her belt and cocked the hammer.

As the rest of the crew scattered to carry out their orders, Martin ascended the quarterdeck gangway and strutted over to the helm. He ran a hand over the varnished ring of the wheel, feeling the smooth surface of each handle flow through his fingers. When he took hold of it, he felt more at home than he ever had in his life. In a strange way, it was as if his soul had found its other half.

This must have been how Captain Percival felt, he thought, when he first set foot on the Scourge.

'Hamish,' Schleckt broke his train of thought. 'Hold's secure. We have twenty-four men in the brig, and with the freed slaves, we have a working crew of just over one hundred. I've checked the cargo. We've got enough provisions to last us a few weeks at sea. Jacobi is rounding up a few more heads to help us get underway, but we'll have the anchor up in less than a minute.'

'Excellent work,' Martin nodded, then a sudden feeling of dread overcame him. 'What about the captain? Did Emily find him?'

'Yes,' a whimper called out clear. 'I-I did, but you were wrong.' Martin peered around the helm and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw Emily, her hands raised, being led from the captain's cabin by a man who was holding a pistol to her head. 'He was armed.'

'¡Malditos piratas! You have exactly five seconds to get off my ship, or I blow this pretty señorita's head into a thousand-.' Before he could finish, his own head slit open as the sound of a shot cracked the air. The man fell dead to floor and smoke poured from the barrel of Ulrich's musket.

'Are you alright, Miss?' The Doctor asked. 'You're not hurt?'

Emily shook her head, and for a while the crew held their breath.

After a brief silence and an even briefer relief, Martin heard the snapping of branches and the sounds of confused, panicked voices echo over the island. He peered over the railing and spotted golden uniforms moving among the trees.

'Dammit,' he cursed. 'They heard the shot; they're coming back. We need to go! Now!'

'Get those sails down!' Jacobi barked at the men on deck.

'You heard him!' Mosi barked at his own men. 'Up the rigging!'

'Every available hand, man the capstan bars!'

Those who didn't run the ratline up to the yards made a frenzied dash for the capstan in the middle of the deck. Even Emily shook off her shock, grabbed a bar and shoved it into one of its eyes in front of Martin.

'Ready!' Jacobi was poised with his weight against the arm.

'Ready!' the crew echoed.

'Then, heave ho! Heave!'

'Heave!' the crew echoed. The splinters of the bar dug into Martin's palms as he pushed with all his might. Emily let out a strained groan and her spine clicked. The bars yawned and the capstan shrieked an ear-splitting shriek. It relented, and slowly started to turn.

There was a crack and a ping as a musket ball ricocheted off a brass fixing. Emily screamed and ducked her head below the bar.

'Heads down! Keep low!' Mosi roared.

Martin peeked over and saw a line of golden-jerkin clad soldiers kneeling in formation, preparing a volley.

'Down!' he ducked his head below his bar. A roll of thunderous shot tore through the air, some whistling over their heads, and some flying into the rigging. There was a hideous shriek as one of the slaves from above, blood pouring from a hole in his chest, tumbled down from above and hit the water with a sickening thud.

'Faster!' Schleckt cried. 'Give it everything you've got! Heave!' The capstan crew pushed off their back legs and broke into a desperate jog around the wheel. The sails made a great whoosh as the mains were unfurled and caught the wind. The ship began to inch forward and after the canvas was secured, it snapped tight and jolted forward like a jungle cat.

'Hamish!' Jennes cried from the bow. 'The rocks! We're heading straight towards them!'

Martin peered up and saw the white foam breaking against the rocks ahead of them.

'I'll get us out of here! Get the anchor clear!'

'Aye, sir!' Mosi wiped the sweat away from his eyes with the back of his hand. 'Come on, you dogs! Heave for all you're worth!'

'What the bloody Hell do you think we're doing?' Jacobi panted.

Martin made a dash for the wheel. He was prepared to wrench it to starboard and wrestle for it to move, but to his surprise, he found it turned easily in his hands. The ship listed to starboard like a dream, turning 90 degrees in less than half a minute. Another volley of shot thundered over their heads, but by the time the main sail was secured, she was riding the water like a ghost ship – fast, light and untouchable.

The wind whipped through Martin's hair and the ship bounced across the growing waves as they pulled away from the island, the slavers now no more than ants in the sand. The crew secured the anchor and ran to the quarterdeck. They beat their fists against the air and jeered at the men they'd left behind, embracing each other warmly and laughing. Emily wrapped her arms around Martin's neck and giggled as he spun her around as free as the gulls that circled between the cliffs.

But, just as relief once again began to wash over them, it was stolen. When they had pulled away from the island, the bowsprit of a ship loomed behind the southern cliff, her sails biting the wind at full canvas.

The lens of a spyglass winked at them. El Terror del Mar was coming.