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

by James Schannep

  “I take no stock in the reports of illiterate men. Don’t make me repeat myself now. If you want to appeal to a higher power, pay me for your safe passage. It’s this hand which holds your lives.”

  Captain Bullock puts out his palm, which Marlowe stares at as if it might bite him. At length, the sailor gives up his coin, his shoulders slouching in defeat. The captain suddenly spins on his heels and hurls the silver out into the sea.

  “I’ll not have superstitions run my ship! And God won’t be able to help you if I find you defacing the Cooper’s Pride with such hocus-pocus again!”

  “Aye, Cap’n!” Marlowe says with a salute.

  And then the ship’s master is gone.

  “A bad omen, that is,” Marlowe grumbles. The other sailors nod in solemn agreement. Then Marlowe brightens. “Must be why God blest us with another Saltboots in the watch. Jimmy were good luck, so long as ye weren’t his mate. Don’t get too close t’this one, Jack Frog!”

  • Leave the man to his superstitions. If he thinks you’re good luck, that’s good enough.

  • Ask Marlowe, in no uncertain terms, what he means by this.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Friction

  With your backside against the cold earth, you have a much larger surface area pressed against the sides of the well, so it’s not as easy to slip. Additionally, having your feet out in front adds leverage, and that additional pressure also helps prevent slippage.

  You press your back off the wall with your hands to make progress, but that still leaves four points of contact in place. When you move your feet, most of your body is against the wall as an anchor.

  It’s slow going, inch by inch, but eventually you make it up the side and out of the pit. Once free, you dust yourself off, stretch, and let out a sigh of relief. It’s nearing sunset, so you head back to camp, revive the fire, and enjoy a meal from the remaining food stores scavenged from the island.

  One might think such a trying ordeal would leave you exhausted and ready to fall into a deep sleep, but the opposite proves true. You’re electrified by these near-death experiences and are wide-awake into the night. Naturally, your thoughts turn back to the Cooper’s Pride, and the near-death experiences you had aboard. Surely the captain’s murderer was close enough that you were almost killed as a witness when you found the body. Lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting.

  Letting you take the blame.

  But who was the killer? Rediker, Marlowe, and Barlow had grudges against the captain, while Robin, Chips, and Joe were nearest to him. Yet, try as you may, it’s been difficult to decipher what motive they must have had. And if the true killer wasn’t one of these shipmates, that leaves only Billy, the cook, or the surgeon. What do you know about these three?

  • Think back to your time with Billy Greaves, the Mate and right-hand man of Captain Bullock.

  • Rack your brain over what odd occurrences happened near Dudderidge, the sea cook.

  • Revisit the memories of Butch, the former butcher employed as the ship’s surgeon.

  • Simply stare up at the stars—the same your shipmates presently sail beneath—until you fall asleep.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Friends in Low Places

  “God must have been a sailor, for He built a port on every coastline, and every port-town is Heaven on Earth,” James says. Then, rubbing his hands together like a gambler hoping to score big, he adds, “We’re in for a treat tonight, coz. My treat. Two gins, Spence.”

  “A man in the company of a lovely lady gets his cups filled for half-price,” Spence offers.

  “Very well, make that two each!” James replies, slapping a palm on the bar. When the first pair of drinks is poured, he slides one your way and toasts, “Here’s to mothers and sweethearts—may they never meet!”

  The gin burns on its way down and you cough hoarsely in response, much to the amusement of the hooch-hardened clientele of the tavern.

  “Second one’ll be easier,” Spence promises.

  James seems not to notice, especially since a young courtesan comes to sit next to him. She’s small, pert, and fit. His new friend wears a petticoat, clean and neat, though loose in several suggestive places. She laughs and wraps her arms around his.

  The seat next to you creaks as someone sits down. You turn to see another young woman, this one made up to look like a farmer’s daughter, and perhaps she was once. She runs a hand over your shoulder and leans forward to display her ample bosom, but her eyes grow wide once she actually gets a good look at you.

  “Not quite what you expected?” you say at length.

  “I’m sorry, only, well, I’m used to seamen is all,” she says, without any hint of irony.

  In your posh riding clothes, Sunday best to meet Cousin James, you certainly cut quite a different figure than the rest of the tavern’s clientele.

  “Not a bad thing,” she says, wrapping an arm around and cuddling close. “Tender lovers are the best sort.”

  You down the second glass of gin, barely feeling the sting this time, and examine yourself in the mirrored back wall of the bar. Before you can get a good look, your new friend takes your cheek in her hand and turns you to meet her intense stare. She looks longingly in your eyes, and offers a coy smile.

  “Not for me, Billy. I ain’t never goin’ back!” James cries, breaking the moment. I have a lifetime’s tales to tell. But tonight, I only want the tail!”

  You look back to see an older, mutton-chopped sailor blustering good-naturedly at your cousin’s opposite side. He says, “Come now, Jimmy. When ya joined the Cooper’s Pride, you stopped being James Landlubber and began your life as Jimmy Saltboots.”

  “Billy, ya always was a fair mate, so I’ll not insult ya now by air’n me grievances. Join me instead in a toast: Here’s to Spencer’s Free House. Where there’s many a lass, and many a glass, and never’a stormy sea.”

  James toasts with Billy, clinking glasses and tapping them on the bartop. James downs the rest of his drink, scoops up his lovely companion, and carries her into a back room like a Viking raider might carry a prize after plunder. Billy then takes his seat next to you, shaking his head.

  “Don’t s’pose you’d wanna take his spot on me ship?” he asks half-heartedly.

  A tug on your sleeves brings your attention back to your lovely companion. In the low, dusky light of the bar, her eyes shimmer.

  “Don’t s’pose you’d rather take me someplace more private-like?” she asks.

  • Take the farmer’s daughter in for a roll in the hay. You and James will have quite a few family secrets to share after tonight, no doubt about that.

  • Cast a glance back in the mirror and ask yourself, “What are you doing?” Tell her it was nice meeting her and pay her for her time, but part company.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Get Cracking

  The fact that coconuts are on your island is perhaps a bigger blessing than you realize. The green, new coconuts are filled with vitamin-enriched water, while the brown husky fruits are filled with a fatty “meat” that serves as your island’s superfood.

  The shells are quite tough, but no match for a rock or the butt of your pistol. Flintlocks are known to be unreliable, so such pistols are also designed for their club-like secondary uses.

  The coconut is both filling and nutritious, so long as you eat a few. You could live solely on this fruit and want for nothing, save variety. A green coconut holds roughly 12 ounces of liquid, while the brown coconuts have about 500 calories each. You also get minerals such as potassium and lauric acid, which provides antibacterial and antiviral properties to bolster your immune system.

  Great choice; a breakfast of champions. Where to next? Though you can certainly survive off the coconut water, it might be worth finding a source of fresh water on the island for cooking, cleaning, and other uses. Now that you’ve had a good morning meal, you’ve got the energy to go for a hike.

  What’s the best way to find a source of fresh wa
ter?

  • Seek a low-lying part of the island near broad-leaf vegetation. That’s a natural spot where you’re likely to find ponds or streams.

  • Look for animal trails and see where multiple paths converge. They need fresh water too, and they’ve discovered the island’s secrets long ago.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Get Thee to a Ginnery

  “As promised, first round’s on me!” James says cheerfully.

  This gets the attention of several sailors in the eaves of the tavern. Emerging from a thick haze of smoke, they swarm towards the bar. Did he really mean he’s buying the whole tavern a round? Spence, the barkeep, raises her right eyebrow as if asking that same question.

  James seems not to notice, especially since a young courtesan comes to sit next to him. She’s small, pert, and fit. His new friend wears a petticoat, clean and neat, though loose in several suggestive places. She laughs and wraps her arms around his.

  The seat next to you creaks as someone sits down. You turn to see an older seaman with muttonchops. Spence pours him a drink while you look him over. He’s well-dressed for a seaman, at least by your limited experience, though his garb holds tightly to a frame expanding with recently added weight. Getting a closer look at the man, you see his grey whiskers are stained rust-red around the mouth from habitual tobacco use.

  “Buyin’ for all your former shipmates, Jimmy?” the man asks.

  James looks about as if considering his predicament for the first time.

  “A man in the company of a lovely lady gets his cups filled for half-price,” Spence offers.

  James addresses the seaman next to you. “Know what, Billy? I’m retired, so why the hell not? Give us a song and we’ll drink to it on me!”

  “Aye, but let’s wet our whistles first!”

  The sailors all cheer, and Spence pours gin in as many glasses as there are men. James’s courtesan appears most pleased with his generosity. You take your glass in hand with the others, and down it when they do the same. The gin burns on its way down and you cough hoarsely in response, much to the amusement of the hooch-hardened clientele of the tavern.

  “Second one’ll be easier,” Spence promises.

  “Customary t’buy a round if’n ya get one bought for ya,” Billy says, giving you an elbow.

  You respond:

  • “Sadly, I am unaccustomed to these traditions, and lack the coin for such generosity.”

  • “They say what goes around, comes around. Sing us a good one—I’m buying!”

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Getting the Axe

  Rushing forward, you scoop up the axe and follow the more senior seaman into action. If education serves, the idea here is to lessen wind resistance, lower the ship’s center of gravity, and thus reduce the imminent risk of capsizing.

  It’s only a quick scramble up, one that you successfully make with a great deal more ease than expected, but you shouldn’t be too surprised: the rigging is designed to be traversed. Once aloft, you hack away at the foretop with the axe, while the able seaman does the same from the opposite side.

  A truly gargantuan wave crests over the bow, shaking the whole ship and snapping the mast like it was a mere pencil—and taking the two of you with it. The other sailor is pulled overboard, but you’re crushed between the mast and the side of the ship; the fury of the sea instantaneously snuffing the life from your terrenum corpus. The ship is saved, with the pair of you as the sacrificial offering to Poseidon.

  THE END

  Giving Chase

  “You know what? You’re absolutely right, Lieutenant. What good are you, standing over at the larboard broadside without an enemy to face?” you say.

  “I beg your pardon?” Lieutenant Saffron says, blinking with surprise.

  “No good at all, I’d say. Come on, then. Take the starboard broadside. You’re the senior officer here.”

  “Well, yes, I suppose that’s right,” he says, crossing the gun deck. “Men, are you ready?”

  Exchanging places with him, you size up the larboard gun crews before finally ordering the men to abandon their posts, “With me! Let’s go.” They look about, unsure, so you press on with, “What, would you rather just stand there, guns limply in hand, staring out at the open ocean? Let’s go! We’ve got an enemy to defeat!”

  Now they follow you, though you’re just as unsure what motivated this sudden swell of madness within you. After a few moments, you find yourself back at the magazine, addressing Cousin James.

  “Cousin, we’ve got a superior force chasing us. What’ve you got to slow them down?” you ask.

  James ponders this for a moment, then his eyes brighten. “If we hit their sails with bar-shot, that might do the trick.”

  “Load us up.”

  Monks, the gunner, comes forward. “Cap’n give orders?”

  “I’m here with his authority,” you say, somewhat stretching the truth.

  “Hit ’em with the chase guns,” James elaborates. “A well-placed hit with bar shot and you could just take out a sail or two.”

  The gunner and his mate then distribute the bar shot—in essence, a pair of cannonballs connected by a long bar in the center—and wish you Godspeed. The sounds of distant musket fire and the boom of the starboard broadside announce that hostilities have begun without you. Hurrying, your men haul the munitions and follow you up to the main deck and the chase guns at the stern.

  The enormous man-o’-war pounds at the rear starboard side, but you wait patiently. Armaments like bar-shot have precious little range… but that patience pays off. Soon, the Don Pedro Sangre sinks back for direct chase, hoping to steal the Hornblower’s wind by blocking your ship with her own superior size. Not this time.

  “FIRE!!!” you shout.

  The trio of chase guns boom out in a deafening report, each cannon flying back against a breech rope in response to the enormous power from the shot. In the waning light, it’s difficult to see the effect of the attack, so you order the men to swab the guns to prepare for a second volley.

  But, then it’s clear something has happened. The enemy sailors rush to the bow, and your own men cheer out in realization: you’ve severed the rigging at the bowsprit! This has knocked the jibs loose, taking the wind from their staysails and slowing the enemy.

  The crew of the Don Pedro Sangre rushes to repair the damage, but perhaps this is just the lead the Hornblower needs! You’ve got the attention of your Master and Commander, that’s for certain. Captain Longwick appears demanding to know who gave the order to fire chase guns.

  “No-one, sir.”

  “No-one? Midshipman Ward, I’d thought you were on the starboard broadside?”

  “Aye, sir. I was, but I had Saffron take my place. I figured…”

  “I can clearly see what you figured!” Captain Longwick shouts, looking over the remaining bar-shot. His deep black eyes blaze with intensity, matching the glow of the darkening sky. But then the edges of his mouth twist into a devilish grin and he says, “That’s a hell of an initiative, Ward! Keep that up and you’ve got a bright career in front of you. Lieutenant Dalton!”

  Then he’s off, further preparing battle stations, leaving you alone with the gun crews. With the ship sinking back, there will be no need to fire the chase guns tonight, so you dismiss the men to get some rest. You’d likely do well to do the same yourself.

  Not much choice here:

  Well done! You’ve survived your first battle at sea. But the Hornblower isn’t clear just yet. Get some much needed rest, and when you’re ready—click to continue….

  Go Down with the Ship

  It’s your die/do moment. The African pirates emerge from the hold with shrieking battle cries, ready for action. Robin leads the gun teams against the Royal Navy, which only returns fire with their swivel guns—their larger carriage guns would blow you out of the water, and it’s clear they mean to take you alive.

  “Cap’n!” Rediker cries. Turning back, you see him point to a fuse, w
hich leads down into the hold.

  “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “Say the word, and we take the bastards with us. Whole ship is ready t’go.”

  Without response, you turn back to lead the fight. Royal Navy officers storm the decks of your ship, leading their own into action. You fight like a tempest. Cutlass-slashing across the nearest enemy sailors, pistols discharged in the intervening gaps, one by one. You keep a half-dozen of the flintlocks on your person, tossing the spent weapons aside with each shot fired.

  It’s grisly combat, but the sailors continue flooding in, in seemingly endless numbers. Outmanned four-to-one, they steadily push you back until it’s clear: you’ve lost the fight. In a way, the Cooper’s Pride really did die with Captain Bullock. Now the Deleon’s Revenge will go down with Captain Bloodbeard.

  “Rediker! Do it!!!” you shout.

  He ignites the fuse, which quickly retreats below decks as it sizzles. Seconds later, there’s a bright flash—you’re dead before you can even process the blast. You go down as the costliest pirate-boarding action in history. That is to be the legacy of Bloodbeard.

  THE END

  A Good Ribbing

  Without another word, you turn and flee, rushing past Rediker and Barlow as they pull at the cordage to bring in the jib.

  “Oi! Where the bloody hell d’ya think you’re goin’?” Rediker shouts as you pass.

  “T’the privy, I’d say! Our Saltboots’s scared shitless!” Barlow calls in reply.

  They both have a good laugh at your expense and continue in their task, despite the deluge that threatens to wash them overboard.

  You head down inside, battered about by the rolling of the ship as you go. The hold is relatively dry, warm and inviting, though there’s even more screaming down here as the sows squeal in horror. Eschewing the animals, you delve deep into the cargo, hoping to wedge yourself tightly into a safe spot.