'They're trying to board us!' the frightened cry of the deckhand was muffled by the whoosh of grappling hooks through the air.

'Prepare for close quarters!' Martin roared, drawing his cutlass. 'We show no mercy!'

The Hellish battle-cries that rose up from both ships fought to be heard against the clash of the other. Each side drew their pistols and cutlasses, and waited with bated breath.

Before the grappling hooks had burrowed themselves into the Señora's railing, the Spanish privateers swung like monkeys from the halyards to do battle.

'Overhead! Fire at will!' Schleckt raised his pistol with the rest of the crew and sent a volley of shot into the rigging. Men dropped like flies writhing to the water below, but some still clung to their ropes.

Martin looked to Schleckt, then swallowed his fear and nodded. He brandished his cutlass and Schleckt raised his axe.

'Charge!' the pair stampeded towards the bewildered Spaniards.

The crew joined the melee, knocking a handful of the invaders overboard, then exchanging blows with the rest.

'Push them back!' Martin screamed, his face splashed with warm blood as he parried the blow of a cutlass and sliced into the owner's throat. He kicked over the thrashing corpse then turned to face his men.

Through the din and smoke of battle, he spotted Emily, her sword drawn, fending off sword swings from a tall, grubby sailor, who laughed as he beat the strength out of her. He leapt forward, dodging volleys and slashing at the enemy line.

The sailor knocked the sword from Emily's hand and pinned her against the mizzen mast, the curve of his cutlass smiling against her neck. He was just ready to slice her to ribbons when Martin, in a flash of impulse, drew the pistol from his belt, cocked the hammer, and fired. The sailor shrieked in pain and collapsed, blood pouring from a soot-blackened hole in his knee. Martin dashed forward and kicked the fallen sword away where it could do no harm.

Emily breathed a sigh of relief, but she held strong, dropping to her knees to take up her sword when Martin wrenched her back to her feet again by the wrist.

'Emily, get below.'

'No,' She spat. 'Not this time. I'm not going to cower while you risk your life for me. I'd rather-.'

'I need you to find Ulrich.' Martin put his hand on her shoulders. 'Tell him to find a gun with sight of that mast. We need to get it clear, else we're as good as sunk with them.'

Emily swallowed, her eyes wide, her body shaking, before she nodded.

'Alright. You're going to be alright without me?'

'I'll manage somehow,' Martin smiled and caressed her arm.

'You'd better. If you die out here, I'll kill you,' She wrapped her arms around his neck then quickly kissed him on his scarred cheek. The touch of her soft, but slightly weather-beaten lips sent warm shivers down his spine. His heart throbbed with a life he'd never felt before. Then, in an instant, she was gone, sword in hand, down the main hatch calling after Ulrich.

'Alright then, who wants some, ya slimey apes?!' Schleckt bellowed as he cocked the hammer of his freshly loaded pistol and fired it into the massing growth of enemies on deck. 'Come and catch a real fight, if you're not too chicken!'

Martin was about to turn and join the melee, when a voice froze his blood cold.

'Hamish.'

He turned slowly to see, perched like an exotic bird on the fallen mast between the ships, his coat a-flow, his jerkin aglow and his infamous ugly smile etched across his cheeks.

Captain Toros sighed and tutted.

'Such a sorry state of affairs.'

He took a step down the mast, but Martin leapt to bar his way.

'Not one more step, you snake,' Martin raised his cutlass. 'Or I'll cut you to pieces.'

Toros' grin stretched from ear to ear. He started to cackle, then laughed with all the force he could muster. Martin felt three foot shorter, and then his heart sank to his ankles as Toros brushed aside his coattails and drew a familiar silver sabre from his belt. It winked at Martin like an old friend, but he shuddered, nonetheless. He could swear there were still rust-coloured spots on the edge where Toros had neglected to wipe clean Captain Percival's blood.

'It's not too late, you know.' Toros admired his reflection in the blade, unphased by the shot and splinters whistling over his head. 'If you surrender now and hand over the girl, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement. This is not how I wanted things to end, I assure you. Percival was a good man, and I'm sorry it had to come to-.'

'Shut up!' Martin stepped up onto the mast and thrust his cutlass towards Toros. 'Don't you dare put his name in your filthy mouth. He was ten times the man you ever will be. His last act on this Earth was to defy you, and I will defy you too. You will have the girl over my dead body.'

'A pity,' Toros lowered the silver sabre and shook his head. 'Such a pity, such a waste... but, if that is what you wish, who am I to deny you?' His amber eyes flared like embers and he darted forwards, Martin just managed to catch him by the edge of his cutlass, steel biting into silver steel.

Toros' face, slashed with wrinkles, rolled up like a furious bull, hot breath stinging Martin's face.

Before he knew what he was doing, Martin shoved with all his might. When he was free, he slashed at Toros with his cutlass. It hissed through the empty air as Toros dodged and beat the pommel of the silver sabre into Martin's shoulder.

A sharp pulse rang through his entire upper body and crowned his head with a dull ache, but he fought against it. He managed to regain his balance on the mast, then whipped around and put up his cutlass to meet the flash of white.

Toros' ugly grin dropped as he saw Martin's sword bound to his.

Martin pushed into the strike and tried to throw Toros off balance.

Toros staggered back as the blades broke free, then caught Martin's swing.

Martin coiled up for another strike but wavered as he felt his feet slip against the sodden mast. By the time he had realised he'd let his guard down, it was too late.

Toros stepped forward, catching the belated swing with his own, and broke behind Martin's line of defence. Martin caught a glimpse of that hideous, triumphant smile in the second before his leg was kicked out from under him and he felt himself tumbling down.

He reached out and caught hold of the mast, grasping it with all his might. Splinters burrowed themselves under his fingernails. Above him, Toros blotted out the sun, his boot a mere inch from his hands, the silver sabre glimmering like a bolt of lightning. Martin's arms burned as he fought to keep his grip.

'Such a pity,' Toros shook his head and tutted. 'So young; so naïve; so headstrong.'

Martin's vision blurred, blood rushing from his head, and his hand slipped from the mast. He held to it, but all of weight now swung from his left arm. The breath was taken from his lungs as he strained to regain his grasp.

That's when something brushed against his shoulder; a length of rope. When Martin followed it, he realised where Toros was standing.

Toros tapped the edge of the sabre against Martin's blackened fingers and chuckled.

'You really thought you had a chance of beating me?'

'I don't have to beat you,' Martin said, his fingers slipping down the rope. 'I just have to get you exactly where I want you.' He let go of the mast and held fast to the rope.

The grin was wiped from Toros' face as the line snapped tight around his ankle and he was dragged over the edge. He cried out as he hurtled past Martin. A flash of silver cartwheeled towards him and he reached out to catch it. The silver sabre floated into his grasp like a snowflake.

He slipped the sabre into his belt. The rope jerked as Toros thrashed to pull himself up. Martin climbed up the rope and straddled the mast. Emily and Ulrich were below deck, getting the cannon into position. The Señora began to list as the Terror sank deeper into the water, dragged down by the mast.

'Ulrich! Anytime now!'

'Aye! We're on it,' Ulrich said.

'Get clear,' Emily implored.

Martin raised himself onto his feet, and was ready to run down the mast, when a voice from below stopped him in his tracks.

'Help!' Toros' head was half submerged in the swelling water. 'Help me! Please! I don't want to-.' He was cut off as a wave swallowed his head. When the sea spat him back out, he erupted into rasping coughs. 'Please! Help!'

Martin's fists shook with trepidation as he watched the man thrash like a fish on a line. A part of him wanted to turn and walk down the mast to the safety of the ship. He wanted Toros to drown, to feel fear in his final moments. He wanted Toros to fear him, and regret what he'd done, who he'd taken. But the more he thought about it, the more he could see Captain Percival hanging at the end of that rope. He was the one at the mercy of the other. Martin was the one holding the sword to the Captain's throat, and that thought alone made him feel sick.

He knew that no matter how much he hated Toros, no matter how much of a monster he was, if he let Toros die, there would still be one more monster left. He refused to let Toros win that way.

I will not take his place. Martin thought.

He reached down and took hold of the rope, passing it hand over hand as before.

'Hamish!' Ulrich shouted. 'Hamish, get out of there! She's going down!'

'Martin, what are you doing?!' Emily cried.

'Toros!' Martin barked over the rushing waves. 'Pull yourself up! Try and the rope!'

'I-I can't,' Toros whimpered.

'You have to,' Martin said. 'I'm gonna pull you up but I can't do it alone. Work with me.'

Toros took a deep breath and pulled himself up, stretching for the rope.

The bow of the Terror had disappeared under the waves. The mast was pulling under the water, and the Señora creaked. The sea was lapping at her gunports.

'We're about to lose cannons. We need to break that mast,' Ulrich said. 'We stay like this any longer, she'll drag us down with her.'

'Hamish, leave him!' Schleckt shouted. 'We can't wait any longer! Get out of there or you'll be blown apart too!'

'Take my hand! Quickly!' Martin reached down and offered his hand. Toros tried to grab it, but it was no use. The inches between their fingers felt like a yawning chasm. Then, Martin's vision suddenly cleared. He drew his sword. 'Hold on!'

'Hamish!' Ulrich received no response as Martin put the edge of the silver sabre to the rope. 'It's no use,' he said, taking up a linstock. 'We wait any longer and we're all dead. I'm sorry, Hamish.' He drew the sign of the cross, the poised to light the pan. 'Forgive me.'

'Wait, no!' Emily cried, leaping to catch the linstock, but it was too late. As the sabre sliced clean through the rope, the pan fizzed, and the cannon roared.

The Señora rocked from port to starboard as the Terror first disappeared in an enormous cloud of smoke, then as it cleared, dipped beneath the sea, taking half of her mast down with her. The other half hung limply from the Señora's rigging, sprinkling the water with powdery splinters. The Señora yawned, then settled into a deep, dark silence broken by no one.

Emily uncovered her ears and stared, wide-eyed out of the gunport at the eerily still water. Her hands trembled and she swallowed, her throat as dry as a sand dune.

'M-Martin...' she said. With a twinge of fear, she darted to the main hatch and struggled to lift it open. When she finally burst into the light of open day, she, along with almost the whole crew, ran to the starboard side and stared into the water. 'Martin!' she called. 'Martin! Where are you?'

'Hamish!' Schleckt's voice boomed along the deck as he paced from bow to stern. 'Hamish! Did anyone see him? Where is he?'

A horrible chill washed over Emily and seeped into her heart as it throbbed weakly. Her face paled and her knees buckled until she collapsed onto the deck, her hands clasped over her mouth to suppress the wail she knew was welling up inside her.

The sound of scraping against the portside hull made the whole crew jump from their skins.

Schleckt turned on his heel, his axe in hand, and Emily reached for her sword as the sounds of exertion from the ladder grew louder. Suddenly, a hand clutching Captain's silver sabre slammed onto the deck with a heavy clunk. Martin's scarred face peeked over, and Emily's heart fluttered.

'He's alive!' Schleckt cried, the rest of the crew joining in the cheer as they rushed over to the ladder.

Martin heaved himself onto the deck, then reached down and pulled Toros up by the collar, looking much like a drowned rat. Martin collapsed to his knees and Emily dashed towards him.

She embraced him tightly, in spite of the fact he was dripping wet, and rocked him back and forth, his head resting sleepily on her shoulder. She pulled away and beamed so bright that to Martin, she looked like an angel, until her smile faded and she slapped him around the cheek.

'Jesus!' Martin rubbed his cheek. 'What the Hell was that for?!'

'For scaring me.' Emily's eyes glistened as if ready to flood with tears. 'I thought you were gone, you son of a bitch. Don't ever, ever do that again!'

'Alright, I won't.' Martin groaned as his cheek burned.

'Good.' She wrapped her arms around him again and closed her eyes, content.

'Right, then.' Schleckt grabbed a babbling, shivering Toros by the hair and hauled him to his knees, Mosi and Jacobi locking their arms around his shoulders to secure him. 'What to do with this one?'

'Please.' Toros blinking up at Schleckt as he brandished his axe. 'Don't kill me. I beg you.'

'Why shouldn't we?' Jacobi snarled.

'Because he'd be no use to anyone dead.' Martin interjected, to the confusion of the crew. 'We kill him, we gain nothing. The way I see it, boys, a Spanish captain wanted by the British empire might fetch a hefty bounty.'

Schleckt nodded. 'Aye, that's right. There're a lot of merchants in England, and if it so happens you pissed off the right merchants, who knows how much you could be worth to Queen Anne.'

'Talking of Queen Anne,' Martin continued, standing on shaky legs. 'I would say we have something that she needs delivered. We've got a hold load of Spanish prisoners, we have enough provisions, a reasonably flighty ship, and we have a trial to outrun.' He nodded at Emily. 'I suggest we chart a course for England and deliver the peace treaty personally. We can ensure it reaches the Crown safely, and we might be able to squeeze out a juicier reward. What do you say, lads? All in favour, say aye.'

The crew erupted into a call of "Aye".

'Then let's weigh anchor and get underway. We've got a few weeks at sea, but with this ship and a decent wind at our backs, we'll cut that time in half.'

'What do you want us to do with him?' Schleckt pointed to Toros as the rest of the crew scattered to make ready the ship.

Martin scratched his chin, then stared up at Schleckt.

'Take him down to the brig. But, before you do, I have one question for him.'

Toros' amber eyes darkened as he stared daggers at Martin.

'Well... I suppose I owe you one question at least. Ask away.'

Martin knelt down and looked him squarely in the eye.

'Who told you about the peace treaty?' he asked.

An ugly grin cracked Toros' cheek.