A Sea Too Far by Hank Manley

diminishing space between the two ships. The sharp tines of the first steel hook flew over the side of the merchant ship and dug deeply into the base of Marseilles’s mast when the pirates pulled the line tight. The other grapples sailed to the deck of the beleaguered French vessel. Four pirates hauled quickly on each of the attached ropes and yanked the hooks back until they dug into the railing.
    “Heave, lads,” Mr. Bostock yelled from the raised aft deck. “Bring her alongside.”
    The frenzied pirates, energized by the cannon blasts, excited by the prospect of battle, and delighted by the opportunity to seize booty and riches, tugged enthusiastically on the five ropes until the Marseilles was lashed alongside Queen Anne’s Revenge . The French merchant ship was a helpless captive of the famed pirate Blackbeard as the two vessels continued to sail across the ocean in tandem.
    Blackbeard dashed down from the raised rear deck. Smoke circled around his large head from the wicks of the tiny candles woven in his coal-black beard. He held an enormous sword in his right hand. The wide steel blade glinted in the harsh Bahamian sunlight as he brandished it menacingly in the air.
    Blackbeard waved a pistol in his left hand. His black coat was open at the waist revealing two other pistols dangling from lanyards around his neck.
    Warren looked with amazement and awe at the frightening figure. Who would be so foolish as to challenge the man?
    The captain pointed to Warren and winked. “So it be the life of a buccaneer ye fancy? Well, laddie, come with me. I’ll show ye more fun today than ye can find in a month ashore.”
    Conchshell backed away from Blackbeard with a whimper. Her shoulders dropped to the deck, and she placed her head between her outstretched paws. He rear legs remained upright and held her rump aloft. It appeared as if the Labrador was bowing in reverence.
    Marty Read locked a hand on Warren’s elbow. “Come,” he yelled over the pandemonium swirling on the deck of Queen Anne’s Revenge . “The French ship is close. Let’s jump aboard with the captain. We don’t want to miss the excitement.”
    Warren swallowed once and noticed his mouth was dry. He glanced at Marseilles, now lashed to the pirate ship, and realized that with the curvature of the hulls, there was still substantial space between the two railings.
    His legs felt shaky, and he wondered briefly if he was too weak to make the jump to the merchant ship. If he failed to span the gap, he would certainly fall between the two partially touching hulls and be crushed to death.
    Blackbeard tucked his pistol in his waist sash and stepped toward Conchshell. He reached out with his free hand and scooped the Labrador from the deck. “By the gods above, I believe ye be a lucky cur,” he hollered. “Come, dog. Earn thy keep aboard me ship.”
    The captain vaulted to the raised side of Queen Anne’s Revenge and turned to the pirates poised on the deck. “Who amongst ye wishes fame and fortune?”
    In a single bound Blackbeard hurtled across the open space between the two ships, the wooden sides rubbing and scrapping above the roiling water below.
    “Let’s go, Marty,” Warren said. “I’ll never live with myself if I stay aboard, especially with Shelly making the jump ahead of me.”
    “Aye, me friend,” Marty laughed. “Some pirate ye be if thy dog arrives first and outfights ye.”
    * * *
    Warren landed on the pitching deck with both feet. His momentum carried him forward, and he rolled on his right shoulder before scrambling to stand upright. Marty Read followed moments later and stood with his back to his new friend. He held his sword defensively in front of his body.
    “Turn thy self around,” Marty said. “It be the best way to watch each other’s backs.”
    A French sailor scurried across the deck with a sword at the ready position. “Damn pirates ye be,” he spat in heavily accented English. “I’ll dash thy heathen souls back to