MAROONED: Will YOU Endure Treachery and Survival on the High Seas? (Click Your Poison)

by James Schannep

  With the enormous man-o’-war, no merchantman stands a chance. You’re soon leader of all pirates, as more and more crews join to serve under your protection. As the de facto Admiral of the Brethren of the Coast, the seas are yours to command.

  “The way I see it, we’ve got seven choices here,” cousin James says, as the quartermaster of the Best Ending. “So, Coz. Which of the seven seas shall we terrorize first?”

  * * *

  That’s it! You’ve survived and thrived as a pirate. But there’s plenty more to explore. MAROONED has three unique storylines (look for anchors, skull and crossbones, and the palm tree symbols) and over fifty possible endings. And there’s much more loot to be found! Easter eggs to include several references to each CYP book released thus far. Can you find the treasure buried within these pages?

  If you’re ready to find more to explore, click to RESET or go to THE END for the full chapter list.

  Or, if you’re finished, please consider leaving a review to help others find this book. It’s an incredibly helpful and easy way to support the author (who thanks you in advance, and in third-person, no less!).

  When you’re done, don’t forget to check out the other exciting titles in the Click Your Poison multiverse! You can also sign up for the new release mailing list, or check out James Schannep’s blog for updates.

  INFECTED—Will YOU Survive the Zombie Apocalypse?

  MURDERED—Can YOU Solve the Mystery?

  SUPERPOWERED—Will YOU Be a Hero or a Villain?

  PATHOGENS—More Zombocalypse Survival Stories!

  MAROONED—Can YOU Endure Treachery and Survival on the High Seas?

  SPIED (coming in 2019)—Can YOU Save the World as a Secret Agent?

  * More titles coming soon! *

  Sign up for the new release mailing list

  Or visit the author’s blog at www.jamesschannep.com

  All the Moneys!

  “Damn your blood,” Monks cries. He takes the dice for his own, and gives them a roll as if he suspects they’re weighted. Cursed, more like. The dice were here long before you were, after all.

  “That’s quite a pile of sterling,” Argyle notes, adding it up. You half-expect him to produce an abacus here on the spot.

  “Fortunes change,” Wycombe says. “Do what you will to sew a man up, come morning he could still be dead. Yet another who would bear his injuries to spite your advice will live to fight another day.”

  He takes another long drag on the opium pipe.

  “Don’t have enough coin to face this devil again,” Monks says, miserably.

  “It would be close,” Argyle agrees, consulting his ledger.

  “I can front a round or two, so long as Argyle marks it to be paid against grog rations on board,” Wycombe offers.

  That settled, they place their bets and turn to you for another round. True gamblers, these.

  If you want to say no, enough excitement for one night:

  • Collect your winnings and return to the bar to wait for Cousin James.

  Or let it ride! The winning choice has been randomized, and the outcome of these choices may or not be the same. Play the dice/coin game again, or simply pick your luck of the draw:

  • Heads on the coin toss, or a one, two, or three shown on the die. Click here.

  • Tails on the coin toss or a four, five, or six shown on the die. Click here.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Ancient Wisdom

  Taking a pebble from the tide pool, you rest it upon your tongue and suck. The cold stone does indeed get your salivary glands working, which at the very least helps combat the feeling of cotton-mouth. It’s not like you’re actually going to force any fresh water from the pebble, but there’s something to be said about thinking with a clear head, which is the best effect this technique can hope to offer.

  The birds on this island may have taken the fish from the tidepools before you arrived this morning, but if you pay attention, they can lead you to water. Mouth closed, eyes up.

  What you see, when you stop to observe, are a group of birds circling inland and other large groups leaving the circle in a more-or-less direct path to some unseen destination. What does this tell you?

  • Go to where the birds are circling. That’s most likely where a reserve of fresh water will be found.

  • The circling birds are probably just looking for dead/helpless animals. Head to their destination instead.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Appeal to Authority

  Creeping back out as stealthily as possible, you make your escape. The same logic that brought them down amongst the livery (i.e., background noise from the livestock to cover mutinous talk) now helps drown out the creaking of the planks during this retreat.

  Finding Billy, you do your best to explain the situation between gasps for breath.

  “Go tell the Cap’n, now! I’ll get Robin and some others so we can arrest these men.”

  Nodding your understanding, you rush towards the captain’s cabin, trepidation and exhilaration swirling in your breast. Knocking on the door, you hear a muffled reply and a clattering from within. You knock again, and the door creaks open. Must not have been latched….

  The door swings wide with a lurch of the ship, and Captain Bullock falls forward into your arms. He makes a hideous gurgling noise, crimson bubbles frothing from his lips. His body falls prone and the unexpected weight of the man brings you both down outside the cabin.

  You roll the captain onto his back to find the source of the suffocation, only to see his throat’s been cut! Completely severed, ear to ear. There’s a bloody knife inside the cabin, lying only a few feet away. Captain Bullock continues gagging for breath, blood pulsing from his wound, then—with one more sickening gasp—the man expires.

  A cacophony of boots clatter on deck as the crew rushes towards the commotion. The first to arrive is Chips, who looks aghast with horror. Here you are, kneeling over the body of Captain Bullock, the man’s blood on your hands. Joe arrives only a few moments later; more and more of the crew appear by the second.

  “What’s happened here?” Joe asks.

  “Saltboots… killed the cap’n,” Chips says, ashen-faced with shock.

  • What? These men must be in on it, too… and now they’re pinning this on you! Run now, find Billy!

  • Stay calm as much as you can. Point out the knife, and say Billy knows there’s a mutiny afoot!

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Appressed

  You stick closely, doing your best to stay just outside of the lamplight. They do indeed check the barometric pressure, and use some jargon you’re unfamiliar with while doing so. You’re able to gather that there’s a storm system inbound, and moving fast. Even without the instruments, the violent lurching of the ship would tell the same story. It’s all you can do to keep your stomach from rebelling.

  “Cap’n gotcha molly-coddlin’ his new Ward?” Magnus asks the lieutenant.

  All thoughts of your stomach disappear and you listen closely.

  “Sadly, yes,” Dalton replies. “A bit of cheeky bugger too.”

  “The Master-of-Arms seems t’think with a storm like this’n, maybe that Ward’ll have a spill, right into the drink! Find new habitation amongst the haddock, if ye get me meaning.”

  Dalton looks about uncomfortably, then hisses, “I trust you not to jest about such things in front of a superior! Every knot on this ship has an ear.”

  Magnus stiffens and says, “Aye, sir. Apologies.”

  “I can appreciate why you might resent this new recruit jumping forward in the line of promotion. However, if the position were to prove… too much… the Ward would certainly be reduced back down to Landsman,” Lieutenant Dalton offers.

  “Heh, aye-aye, sir. Too many duties and not enough sleep can overcome anyone.”

  You swallow hard. Et tu, Dalton?

  What now?

  • Tell the Captain.

  • Say nothing, but keep on your guard.


  • Confront the pair of them now.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Ashamed

  “Couldn’t live with the shame. Proud men, these Portos,” Joe says.

  Robin nods. “You all right, Cap’n?”

  “I’m fine. Bosun, please alert our quartermaster to the situation, but do so quietly. Robin, fetch the surgeon to help clean this mess up, but make sure no one else comes in here.”

  Both men nod at your orders, then step to. You stay inside the cabin, mind running wildly. If Bullock was poisoned.…

  At length, Rediker reports in. “Christ Almighty. It’s true. Look at that poor sod. Killed himself, eh? Just as well. Crew says he were a cruel master, serves him right, I say. Must’ve known we’d find out.”

  “And the prize?” you say.

  “Massive haul, Cap’n. Sugar, indigo, cacao, tobacco, leather, silks, silver, gold, and jewels. Once we divide the shares, hell, I’d say each man just earned himself three years’ pay! Not bad for a first-timer.”

  “Refit the ship first. Take their carriage guns, plus any weapons. Once the Deleon’s Revenge is made stronger, the rest is profit.”

  “Aye, Cap’n. It’ll take a few hours t’move all the cargo, but we should be full up. Afterwards, shall we plot a course for New Providence to unload our ill-gotten gains?”

  “Do it!” you say.

  • “I’m going to go through the Porto captain’s cabin to see what I can find. He was right, I need a manner of dress befitting the name of Captain Bloodbeard.”

  • “’Twas a grand first catch, Rediker. Once we make sail, open the rum stores for the men. I’d like to make another toast… to the first of many! And the start of a prosperous partnership.”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Axes & Allies

  “Knew we had a clever Cap’n!” Rediker says with a grin. “Boarding parties, arm up. Remain below decks ’til I give the signal. Don’t wanna tip ’em off early!”

  Portugal and England are technically allies against Spain at present, so when you hail the other ship for assistance, they’re obligated to stop for you. Most merchantmen are friendly to their kind at sea, for it’s a sort of superstition, like villagers who are obliged by culture to take in and feed a stranger. They too, after all, may one day be a stranger in want or need.

  “Ship ahoy!” you hail, as you’ve seen done before.

  “Hulloa!” They recognize your flag and reply in your native tongue.

  “What ship is that, pray?”

  “The ship Dos Santos, from Rio de Janeiro, bound to Lisbon. Where are you from?”

  “The Deleon’s Revenge né Cooper’s Pride,” you say, for the old name is still painted on your stern. “From Boston, returning to London. Only we weren’t able to resupply for the journey.”

  “No resupply, you say? Pray, what happened?”

  Now you signal to Barlow. As he raises the black flag, you say, “We were taken by pirates!”

  Barlow unfurls the flag; a sea of black upon which rests the iconic skull and crossbones—but with one change: There is a beard of blood sewn onto the death’s head, formed by a dozen or more crimson droplets, which, when combined, give the appearance of a beard. A Bloodbeard.

  At this, the rest of the crew rises up from below decks, wielding boarding axes, wooden and iron beams; whatever makeshift weapons they could find. Weapons aren’t generally found aboard merchant vessels, so you’ll want to upgrade your armaments as soon as possible. For now, it looks as though the crew has raided the carpenter’s toolset.

  The men aboard the Portuguese vessel look from man-to-man, unsure how to deal with this new threat. Quickly, before they have time to form a plan, say:

  • “We’re coming aboard to help ourselves to your supplies. Make no attempt to resist, lest you’ll learn why they call me Bloodbeard!”

  • “Send your captain over now, so we can make terms of your surrender. You have my word, no harm will come to you. We want booty, not blood.”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Barlow

  “Me—me?” Barlow stammers, eyes blinking. It’s as if the poor sod is trying to figure out just how it is that he is indeed the killer.

  “He was with me in the hold, planning a mutiny, when the deed were done,” Rediker says.

  “Ah-ha! I’ve just got you to admit to mutiny!” you say, pointing a finger back at him.

  “I think too many meals-o’-boiled crab have gone and made ya soft in the shell, Saltboots,” Rediker says, tapping his own head for emphasis. “Of course I admit the mutiny! I’m captain-o’-a pirate crew!”

  Then they all laugh.

  And laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

  And then they kill you.

  THE END

  BBQ

  Good choice. In all likelihood, this little piggie was left to the island so sailors like you could later come pick up her brood and roast them over a spit. Fresh meat is hard to come by on a sea voyage, so when you cook the pig’s flesh over an open flame, it’s the most succulent thing you’ve been offered in months. No matter the lack of spices, this is living!

  The pig will last you a few days, though you’re not the only interested party. Drawn to your kill is another hunter on the island. The nightly visitor to your camp is here again, just out of the illumination of your firelight. Though you cannot see the intruder, you can almost feel the presence of something or someone out there. There’s a crackling sound, like twigs snapping beneath footfall, but that could again just be wood popping in the fire. Your imagination runs wild.

  Though, it’s not much longer until you learn your stalker’s identity. The next day, you’re off from camp, hiking down to the pond for fresh water, when you come face to face with a jaguar.

  Its golden fur glows tawny in the early light; black splotches break up the outline of the animal, even as it stares at you out in the open. Is this who’s been following you these last few days? Likely so. What was once curiosity to size you up now very well may put you on the menu. What do you do?

  • Confidently walk towards the jaguar. Lock eyes to show dominance. Say, “This is my island now!”

  • Scream loudly to frighten the animal and climb up into the nearest tree for safety.

  • Shout, “Look, over there!” and then run in the opposite direction as fast as you can.

  • Almost as if in slow motion, remove your pistol and shoot the beast. Can’t get revenge if you’re dead.

  • Stand tall, but slowly back away. Speak calmly. Say, “It’s okay, I don’t mean you any harm.”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Below the Surface

  This group of three are a jolly, rough-hewn bunch who look like they were forged upon a smithy’s anvil as seafaring men, rather than ever having been born as boys. The sailors introduce themselves, and you do the same, but it’s lip-service only. Your eyes are locked on Barlow, trying to gauge the man.

  “So ye’ve been crimped, eh? Gamblin’ debts?” one of the seamen asks.

  A grin spreads Barlow’s mustache across his face, revealing a missing front tooth. “Spent most me money on women and booze—and the rest I just wasted!”

  The men erupt in good-natured laughter and let the issue drop. You can see how the jibe would appeal to sailors, but there could be more to it. They wanted to know the nature of his debts, and he just rolled right over the question. Clever, that.

  The senior-most seaman then says that you’re all on the second larboard watch, meaning you’re currently on rest and will resume duties in four hours. That time should be spent how you please and in the future will be used on sleep, sewing and repairing your garments, or simply playing cards or writing letters (depending on a seaman’s state of literacy).

  Heading back down towards your hammocks, you stick close to Barlow.

  “So, you’re Rediker’s man, right?”

  Barlow sizes you up for the first time. “Aye, shipmates.”

  “Looks like a man with a past, to me.”

&nbs
p; “Ya got a keen eye. Saltboots, was it? Well, ye might learn soon enough. E’ery ship has rats, no matter how pretty on the outside.” He gives you a wink, then pulls himself into his swaying hammock. “Now if ya excuse me, didn’t sleep so well last night.”

  • Truth be told, neither did you. Get some shut-eye while it’s offered.

  • Rest in the hammock, but keep one eye open—and trained on Barlow.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  A Bigger Fish

  The Deleon’s Revenge cuts through the turquoise seas of the Caribbean, darting to and from the various inlets and islands, hoping to find a merchantman out in the open. It’s only a matter of time before a cry of “Sails!” brings half the crew up to the deck in eager anticipation.

  Bringing the spyglass up, you see the O Rei do Açúcar on the horizon. Another Portuguese merchantman; but from her course, this one should be at the end of a long journey from Europe. With any luck, that means she’ll be laden with weapons and manufactured goods ready to be exchanged for new-world resources.

  “Fly the black,” you command. “Prepare the vanguard for boarding.”

  Then a funny thing happens. When Barlow raises Bloodbeard’s flag, the merchant ship doesn’t make to run. Instead, it furls sails and lets out its sea anchors; effectively stopping in her tracks to wait for your approach.

  “Could be a trap,” Rediker murmurs.

  “Gun crews at the ready,” you reply.

  When you pull up alongside her, the O Rei do Açúcar hoists a white flag of surrender. From the looks of it, none of the crew is armed whatsoever. Instead, the captain stands at the ready to receive the boarding party.