You toast to His Majesty’s health, taking your part in the revelry.
“Let’s get some air above deck,” Cousin James suggests.
The men, in various states of drunkenness, sing and dance, play cards and other games, jostling and joking in every berth of the ship. A fight breaks out, and though it’s quickly subdued, the quarrel doesn’t escape the attention of the officers up on the quarterdeck.
“It’s been a while since they’ve been allowed to let loose, sir,” Lieutenant Dalton says.
“Yes. Looks like the men might need to burn off some of this… enthusiasm,” Captain Longwick replies.
“Aye, sir,” Mr. Midshipman Magnus says from the other side. “Could rally ’em about for a Sailor’s Hornpipe? Or Sling the Monkey?”
Noticing you eavesdrop, Dalton says, “Something we can help you with, Landsman?”
Curiosity getting the better of you, you reply:
• “Sorry to interrupt, but I must ask: Is there really a monkey onboard? One that we might… sling?”
• “Begging your pardons, sirs, but what exactly is a Sailor’s Hornpipe?”
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Cold Compress
As storm clouds continue to roll in, the night grows darker and darker. The few lamps on the ship only illuminate the most important instruments, lest the wooden ship risk catching ablaze. But that also means you’re able to find a hidden corner to sit for a moment. Exhaustion takes over, however, and you don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you awaken with the shock of cold water. Full immersion; you’re drowning!
You gasp for air, reaching out to swim, only to smash your knuckles against the wooden beams of the ship. James stands before you, holding a bucket, from which he merely splashed you awake with seawater.
“Bloody fool!” James cries. “Lucky ’twas me that found ya. Watch’s up; did ya sleep clear through eight bells?”
“Oh, no. I fell asleep?” you say dumbly, finding your feet and a stiff, sore body.
“If ya get yourself killed, coz—do me a favor—take me with ya! Otherwise, no way I’ll ever live with m’self after getting you into this mess.”
You’re about to reply when Lieutenant Dalton raises the alarm. “Up! Every soul, and nimbly, for God’s sake, or we all perish!”
“Up into the maintop! Take in the topsail!” Mr. Magnus adds.
Lightning flashes, with the dreadful crack of thunder only an instant behind. The heavens open. Sheets of rain dump onto the ship, like the Almighty Himself thought your cousin left the job of dousing you unfinished.
“Not you,” James commands. “You’re not ready for this, coz. Stay down!”
He begins to climb up, fearless. Part of you wants to prove yourself, to jump up and do the same, but part of you thinks to the words of Shakespeare’s Falstaff, “The better part of valor, is discretion.” Maybe James is right?
Though as the wind rips across the bow so frightfully, loud enough that the men can’t even hear themselves shout, you think instead of Shakespeare’s The Tempest; The Bard didn’t know the half of it.
What will it be?
• Climb the mast. Do your part!
• Watch and learn, young one.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Cold Pressed
Rushing forward with indignity as your ally, you confront the two men. “How dare you plot my demise! Have you no sense of honor? What scoundrels, here in the dark of night, seeking to undo your fellow shipmate!”
“Watch your tongue, or by God ye’ll find yourself joinin’ Neptune’s Fishguard!” Magnus shouts back, matching your indignation with his own.
“I will simply not be addressed like this!” Dalton says, trading glances between the two of you. “Mr. Magnus, please instruct the Ward on how to properly address a superior officer!”
Then the Lieutenant marches off. Magnus watches him go, and finally turns back with a cruel grin. He removes a dagger from the sash about his waist and steps forward.
“Just you and me, ya motherless cur. Know why he left us ’lone? No witnesses.”
The man means to murder you! Your hands, previously used only to hold a quill, now ball into fists as if that were the most natural thing in the world. Still incensed, you rush him, but he makes to cut and you duck back. Magnus swings at the open air, left unbalanced, open for counterattack.
At this, you crack his skull with a full left hook, then go again with the right, knocking the Dutchman senseless. He stumbles forward with a wild swing of the knife and you move away to let him past. With your back now towards the side rail of the ship, you watch as he shakes his head, rights himself, and lunges again with renewed ferocity.
Trapped between the sea and Magnus’s dagger, you have no choice but to wrestle for control of the weapon. The Dutchman presses forward on steady legs, but you stumble away under the momentum of the swell when the ship lurches from the approaching storm.
A scream announces Magnus’s fall overboard.
One second, you’re fighting for your life, the next there’s a splash and the fight is over. The Midshipman disappears into the sea as lightning arcs across the sky and a terrible thunderclap hits the ship. The waves pull the Hornblower across the sea at incredible speeds. He’s simply… gone. Swallowed by the sea.
Even in the gale-force winds, you hear the hammer on flintlock pistol click into place. Hands raised, you turn around to see the Master-of-Arms.
“Would you shoot me in cold blood?” you ask.
“Of course not. You’re to stand trial for the murder of Mr. Magnus. I just saw ya push him overboard.”
“That’s not what happened!”
He grins. “M’word against yours, seein’ as how Magnus ain’t here to have his say.”
• Surrender, await trial. The truth shall set you free.
• Rush him, wrestle the pistol free.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Conspiracy Theory
More and more of the crew arrive on the quarterdeck, an audience held just outside the late Captain Bullock’s cabin. Rediker, Barlow, and Marlowe stare you down from the periphery, so—with literal blood on your hands—you simply try to sow the seeds of doubt.
“There’s more to this than a simple killing,” you say. “This is all part of a larger plot, the first step in a mutiny! I don’t know if the plan was to make me appear to have killed the captain; I don’t know if the rogues are that cunning. I only know there are those amongst us in the crew who have plotted Bullock’s demise, and I swear I do not count myself amongst their numbers.”
Billy arrives, demanding to know what’s happened.
“Saltboots murdered—” Chips starts.
“No! That’s a lie!” you protest.
Joe steps forward. “Cap’n Bullock’s dead, that ain’t in dispute. But there weren’t no witnesses. You’re the captain now, Billy. What should we do?”
Billy looks towards you, doubt in his eyes.
• Appeal to his emotion. Hasn’t Rediker long been a troublemaker? He must be the murderer!
• Appeal to his reason. What possible motive could you have? There must be an investigation!
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Convincing Performance
Falling to the jungle floor, you play “dead.” Not moving, not resisting. Then you play “food” and are eaten.
Playing dead only works on a false charge. Leopards don’t give false charges.
This is the end of your adventure.
THE END
Cypress
You move forward cautiously, the Master-of-Arms’ shouts growing louder. Soon you see his outline; he paces in the dull lamplight before another sailor who shrinks from chastisement. It’s quickly made clear what this is all about.
“You call yourself a Carpenter’s Mate?” the Master-of-Arms mocks. “Never seen such shoddy workmanship! Give me one bloody reason I don’t have ya re-assigned as cook’s mate, Christ Almighty!”
“Please, sir. I’ll learn me trad
e, I will!”
“Aye, ye learn or we sink!” the other man growls.
The ship suddenly lurches under rough seas and several of the woodworking implements slide across the deck. The carpenter’s mate scrambles to collect them, but the Master-of-Arms just steps aside, letting the tools scatter.
“Even more worthless than the Captain’s new Ward! What would ya have t’offer the Cap’n for that, eh? Nonsense position if e’er I heard-o’-one. Why dontcha both just ‘fall over’ and do us all a favor?”
An iron tool slides across the deck towards your feet.
• Ignore it, go back to your duties. It’s not your place to interfere with the ship’s discipline.
• Give it back, make a friend. The man knows he needs to improve, there’s no need to be cruel.
• Take the tool and threaten the Master-of-Arms with it. That’s the only language a bully speaks.
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Daedalus
This group of seamen look at you as if you’re some kind of albatross; a portent of ill-omens. So be it. No one gives you any commands or bothers you with their superstitious chatter, so you’re free to wander—both mentally and literally—the decks of the ship.
As England disappears, you head up to the bow, straining your eyes to see France across the channel. The Cooper’s Pride cuts through the water like a dart, bringing to mind your studies of the famed inventor Daedalus. Perhaps most well-known for creating the labyrinth, but also credited with inventing the angled bow upon which you now stand. It’s almost impossible to imagine someone attempting to sail a vessel with a square front, but you suppose someone had to be the first to design a hydrodynamic ship body. The ancient Greeks called the bow the “Daedalia” for this very reason.
Still, his Cretan labyrinth couldn’t have been any more isolating than the sea itself. For who wouldn’t be lost upon a horizon of nothing, save for blue-to-blue, as far as the eye can see? That is, until other great men begat seafaring navigation and learned to read the maze with instrumentation.
Yet the state of this voyage, seemingly doomed to be spent in isolation with a tyrant captain, reminds you of still another Daedalian legend. That of Pasiphae’s wooden cow, constructed so she could finally, truly love the perfect bull Poseidon had birthed from the sea. Perhaps you too were smitten by an ill-conceived love of the briny deep, and now find yourself trapped in your own wooden contraption, left to the whims of an ornery Bullock.
Hours pass with dour thoughts and roughening seas, which threaten to turn your stomach even more than your own negativity. Finally, eight bells sound, signaling that your watch is over.
“Get some sleep, ya lot!” Marlowe commands. “Eight more bells, then ’tis supper, and back to it. So ya better get your shuteye while ’tis on offer!”
The afternoon was more draining than you expected—both mentally and physically—so time in the hammock could be exactly what you need.
* * *
“Up! All hands! Up, or we all perish!” the cry comes, shaking you from your slumber.
How long were you asleep? It’s impossible to tell, and in the commotion, it doesn’t much matter. Now that you’re on your feet, you feel the violent rocking of the ship that the hammock had countered. You rush up with the crew, ready to lend a hand to prevent the threat of death.
Thoughts of seasickness are replaced by sheer terror when you reach the open air. Lightning arcs across the sky with the dreadful crack of thunder only an instant behind. The sea rollicks like an open flame and foams upon the deck—beating her with great waves, threatening to pull all asunder.
One such wave nearly knocks the ship on her side, and a man who was up in the rigging of the mainsail is thrown into the sea. You recognize him as the third crimped sailor, the one in a white-and-blue striped shirt.
“Man overboard! Jack’s gone in!” the sailor Marlowe cries.
Billy throws a rope, but when it hits the water, it disappears into the inky sea, and now he watches with a sort of helpless indifference as the sailor struggles for his life. It’s clear the man has no idea how to swim and will soon drown.
• No time! Dive in and help crimped Jack back to the ship.
• Say a prayer for the poor seaman; nothing else you can do.
• Tie a length of rope around your waist and leap in!
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
Dance Party
“Well, I’d say the fact that you have to ask is reason enough,” Captain Longwick replies. “Assemble the Hornpipe.”
“Sailor’s Hornpipe!!!” Magnus bellows.
The ship’s crew gives three hurrahs! in response, leaving you to wonder what you just got yourself into. The drunken sailors gather before the mainmast in a formation you’ve not yet seen. As your first clue into the nature of the Hornpipe, you see sailors appear with various musical instruments: a fiddle, a flute, and something hand-cobbled resembling a tambourine.
“Should we see if Argyle wants to use his bagpipe?” Lieutenant Dalton asks.
“Do so, and I’ll have you thrown overboard,” the captain replies. “What’s the difference between an onion and a bagpipe? Why, no one cries when you cut open a bagpipe.”
The musicians begin and the sailors gathered in formation anchor their hands on their hips, then begin wildly kicking their legs about in a dance. Next, they cross their arms in the air in front of their chests, then jump-squat and kick all over again.
“Go on, then, Landsman! A Sailor’s Hornpipe ain’t that complicated. Give ’r a go!” Magnus shouts down to you.
You join about in the frolicking dance, kicking and leaping about with abandon. After the Hornpipe, the musicians play other tunes and you spend an easy evening with the seamen drinking, dancing, and singing. It’s a cool evening, which feels good after working up a sweat from the dancing.
• After a night full of drink, I think I’ll hit my hammock. The ship appears to be spinning…
• I think I’ll sleep out under the stars tonight. No sign of clouds, and what a great night it was!
MAKE YOUR CHOICE
The Darkest Timeline
Once the English flag replaces the pirate black, the Spanish warship fires her guns in salute. If there’s an enemy more hated than the English navy, it’s an English pirate ship.
Cousin James died of his wounds before the battle was finished—you weren’t even afforded a chance to say goodbye. The only consolation is that you’ll see his murderer tried and hanged. The Cooper’s Pride is placed under your command, the rogue called Rediker made your prisoner, and the honor of sailing this ship back to London as her captain bestowed upon you.
Knowing James died for your sake always stays with you. Though you’ll go on to a prestigious career in the Royal Navy, there is no joy in it. Never again are you close to another living soul; only to duty. Married to the sea, for only the sea can match the cold, dark depths in your heart.
It’s Homer who can best sum up the rest of your days:
No one of the Achaeans labored so much as Odysseus labored and achieved, and for him the end was grief, and a sorrow that is never forgotten; for his sake, though gone so long, for we knew not whether he was ever alive or dead.
* * *
That’s it! You’ve survived and thrived in the world of a midshipman. 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. Maybe things would have worked out differently against the pirates if you had you known James would join the attack? Or, what if you were a pirate yourself?
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—Who Will Survive the Zombie Apocalypse?
Deal with the Devil
Leaving the ship in the hands of the Bosun, you quickly follow Rediker to the Black Market. From the looks of it, your companion is acquainted enough with Boston to navigate his way directly to its criminal underbelly; you don’t ask just how it is he came to this familiarization.
Weapons are sold here, of course, as well as unlicensed moonshine, opium and other narcotics. Prostitutes offer their services as you pass, and several men idle about, either waiting to be paid as hired muscle, or using said muscle to rob any errant outsiders foolish enough to wander into the Black Market alone, for curiosity’s sake.
With one hand on your pistol, you continue on.
Once Rediker finds the establishment he was looking for, you head inside to conduct business. It’s a more of a saloon than a pub; a stage is set for dancers, though none work at this early hour. Still, the house is packed with gamblers and boozers; a man soon arrives with drinks. After finding a booth in the corner, you get down to business right away.
“I understand you lot’re looking to sell your wares,” the man says in a strange colonial accent.
MAROONED: Will YOU Endure Treachery and Survival on the High Seas? (Click Your Poison) Page 6