Art Fic: The (Mis)Adventures of Captain H. J. Becker (Part 1)
Title: The (Mis)adventures of Captain H. J. Becker (Part 1)
Author: knitekat
Word Count: 2796 in this part
Characters: Hilary Becker, Danny Quinn, OCs
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N 1: For Isellersfic's wonderful Danny-Becker art prompt Here and for my Primeval Bingo (Card 9) Prompt: Pirates.
A/N 2: Thanks go to Fififolle for the beta, any remaining mistakes are mine.
Part 2
I looked up from checking my favourite shotgun, Vera, when the office door opened, allowing the wind and rain in. I leaned forward to shield Vera from the worst before looking up to see Quinn looking as if he'd been dragged through a hedge before being dumped in a pond. “Everything OK out there?” I enquired as I watched a drop of water drip down Quinn's nose and splash with a ping onto the metal floor.
“It's pissing down and I'm soaked to the bloody skin,” Quinn groused. “If anything came through that anomaly Temple might have detected, it'll have pissed off back home.”
Any sympathy I might have had for the ex-copper vanished when he gave himself a shake and a droplet of water landed on Vera. I used the sleeve of my combats to wipe the offending drop off before burnishing the spot with my cleaning cloth until it shone. “We still needed to check it out,” I replied before turning my attention back to Vera, she had never failed me, and I smiled when her action slid smoothly. I looked up at Quinn when he made a strangled sound and raised an eyebrow in concern, the last thing I needed was an ill man out here. “Are you OK, Quinn?”
“Never better,” Quinn replied before quickly changing the subject. “I still don't see why we're here. It's a bloody disused oil rig in the middle of the North Sea, what harm could a creature do out here?”
“Because if it's amphibious it could move to the mainland,” I pointed out. “And there is a crew due in a month to start dismantling it.”
“Yeah,” Quinn reluctantly agreed. “I still don't see why Lester sent us though. There could be an incursion back home we're needed for.”
“Because,” I began patiently, “Someone, Quinn, decided to check security even when they knew Lester was getting a migraine.”
“I was sure I had a way in you hadn't thought to cover,” Quinn said.
I shook my head when he almost reminding me of my nephew when he'd been caught up to no good. That was not an image I wanted and instead I almost snarled back at him. “Which is why you set off the alarm and ended up with my shotgun in your face.”
“Fine.” Quinn raised his hands in surrender. “I made a mistake and Lester's punishing me for it, why are you here?”
“Because someone's got to keep an eye on you,” I muttered back. Even though I knew Lester was punishing me too, why else would I be babysitting Quinn? We couldn't even leave as the helicopter had flown off after dropping us off in the middle of nowhere. It almost reminded me of my training, but at least that had more people on it then my useless shower of men and Quinn.
“I'd have preferred to clean out his bloody pet mammoth.”
“I doubt he trusts you with his bloody pet mammoth, not after what happened last time.”
“That was an accident,” Quinn defended himself. “How was I to know it wouldn't agree with him?”
“By asking Abby?” I suggested, shuddering as I recalled that incident. Quinn was bloody lucky Monty made a full recovery otherwise he would have had both Lester and Abby after his head.
Quinn opened his mouth to say something, but I never found out what it was as my radio crackled. “Report!”
“Matthews, sir.” the radio crackled again, making it impossible to hear my man report.
“Matthews? Repeat your message,” I ordered. “Matthews?”
“Becker?” Quinn asked, only for me to raise a hand to stop him.
“Matthews? Report!”
“Sorry, boss,” Mathews finally responded. “I've got movement down here.”
“Damn it!” I snapped. “Where are you Matthews?”
“Bottom habitation level, boss,” Matthews replied. “I can hear voices, sir.”
“Voices?” Quinn said. “I thought this place was deserted?”
“Apparently not,” I said. “Matthews, I'm sending backup. Observe but do not interact with our guests.”
“Yes sir,” Matthews replied. “On...”
“Matthews!” I almost yelled into the radio. “Answer me, damn you!” The only sound was more crackling before I ordered my men to regroup and meet me in the canteen.
***
I shuddered slightly as I opened the office door and stepped out onto the grating, silently promising Vera a full overhaul once we returned home. The wind whipped around me and I hated to think what my hair would look like. I shook my head, trusting to my hair products to keep it from looking like Quinn's rat's nest and grabbed the handrail as I made my way down onto the deck. I could hear Quinn on the stairs behind me until he suddenly stopped.
“Becker!”
I turned, wondering what was wrong now, when I realised he was pointing frantically at something even if the wind was taking his words. I followed his excited pointing and closed my eyes, blinking to clear them but the view hadn't changed. There was a ship anchored at the base of the rig and it looked like something out of a bloody Hollywood movie. From the skull emblazoned on the black sails I noticed just before the crew lowered them, I had to assume it was a pirate ship. Well, that answered who Matthews had heard and who had my man. Bloody pirates!
I heard Quinn come down the stairs to join me, his voice excited as he declared, “It's a pirate ship!”
“I can see, Quinn,” I barked back before continuing to head down to meet my men, my mind whirling as I came up with options to deal with the pirates. At least they were men who I hoped I could reason with. “Come on, Quinn!” I yelled when I realised he was still watching the pirate ship.
***
I made my way towards the canteen, Quinn dogging my steps, when I paused at the sound of gunfire - both the sound of single shots which I assumed came from the pirates' weapons and the sharper rat-tat-tat of modern weapons. I clattered down the metal stairway, heedless of the rain or wind or that I might encounter pirates, I had to find out what had happened to my men.
I burst into the canteen and cursed when I realised the men I'd sent after Matthews weren't present. I glanced at the rest of my men, unsurprised to discover they were all nursing coffees and looking at each other nervously. I wondered who the hell I'd pissed off to be lumbered with them as well as Quinn, not that that was important right this moment.
No, finding out where my bloody men were and getting them back was. Still, first steps first, especially as I had no idea if my men had won their encounter with the pirates. What I needed most was intelligence, which left me in something of a quandary. I had no wish to leave my men to their own devices but I was also unwilling to trust scouting to either Quinn or my shower of men. While I considered my options, Quinn chimed in that he had done hostage negotiation as a copper, however on closer investigation, that apparently meant he'd attended a course on it. I could only hope he didn't attempt to use it and make a bad situation worse.
In the end, I compromised and took my men and Quinn with me; they'd do me no good up here if I did run into any pirates. Still, I left them at the bottom of the staircase, under cover and with excellent sight lines - if they paid attention - and continued on alone to scout out our opposition.
***
I moved slowly across the deck towards the dock being used by the pirate ship. I used all my training to move silently and as swiftly as I could, using the pipes as cover as I made an oblique approach. I cursed under my breath as I counted the number of pirates present, knowing that there had to be more of the ship I could just make out bobbing on the waves and that we were outnumbered, at least numerically if not technologically.
I turned to make my way back to my men, my mind already churning with possible plans, when I kicked something which skittered over the deck. I froze at the noise, holding my breath as I sought any sign that my presence had been noticed. I relaxed when it appeared my luck had held, only for some instinct to have me diving to one side.
I heard the sound of metal clanging on metal as I rolled to my feet, Vera held protectively in front of me, and found myself face-to-face with a pirate. I balanced on my feet as I took the measure of my foe. He was older than I was, with a weather-worn look and a livid scar cutting deep into the left side of his face, taking the eye and twisting his toothless grin into a snarl. I moved backwards to open up space between us and felt my boot knock into something. The pirate's eyes hardened at whatever it was and I risked a glance downwards, frowning when I realised it was a cutlass.
“What ye done with Tacks?” the pirate demanded as his cutlass blade slashed towards me, causing me to twist and duck away, feeling the movement of air from its passage. He swung at me once more and I had no option but to parry with Vera, wincing as the blade scraped on the barrel of my beloved shotgun and I knew I'd be burnishing her once I was home.
The pirate advanced towards me, his toothless grin growing as his cutlass moved constantly as if seeking a weakness in my defence and I knew he'd have no problem running me through with it. I, on the other hand, had no wish to shoot him and blamed too much time spent in Cutter's company on numerous Shouts. Cutter must have driven his obsession with not changing the timeline into my subconscious. That and who knew whose ancestor he might have been or what other effect killing him might have on the bloody timeline.
Still, the more time I spent sparring with the pirate meant the chances of someone hearing and investigating increased. Good news if it was my own men, but I was far nearer to the pirates. I waited for him to strike at me once more, ducked inside his guard and used Vera's butt to knock him cold. I fished into my pockets, pulled a couple of cable-ties free and bound his wrists behind his back, stuffed his disgustingly dirty neckerchief into his mouth and dragged him into a cupboard. It should keep him out of the way and out of trouble.
***
A commotion had me abandoning my original intention of re-joining my men and instead I crept back towards the dock, keeping low and to the shadows beneath the piping which ran across this part of the rig. I cursed when I saw the men I'd left with Quinn on their knees, guarded by a motley rag-tag group of pirates. I couldn't make a move on them, not with the number of bared blades and black-powder pistols pressed against throats and heads. I did a quick head count, noticing that I had lost Quinn from those present.
Bloody hell, I really couldn't leave them alone for one minute without them getting into trouble. All I could hope was that Quinn didn't try anything stupidly heroic, but then, this was Quinn I was talking about. I was considering my now limited options on how to end this situation without bloodshed and frantically trying to remember anything I could about pirates, when a spitting-mad Quinn was dragged into view. I almost showed myself when I noticed the cuts and bruises on Quinn's face, those bloody pirates had hurt him, but I knew being captured wouldn't help anyone.
A black-haired man wearing a fancy gold-embroidered frock coat stepped up to a struggling Quinn and grabbed his throat. His voice carried to his men and to my ears. “Are ye the scurvy-dog who's been picking us off one-by-one?” He shook Quinn when the ex-copper stubbornly refused to answer.
I frowned at the, I assumed, pirate captain's words. Something had been attacking his men as well as mine. I swallowed and looked around, knowing that something else had come through an anomaly other than these pirates. Something that was taking us out one-by-one and I knew there was only one way to stop it. Assuming this idea didn't backfire on me, that was.
I made my way back to the cupboard, grabbed the now recovered pirate and hauled him to his feet. Using him as a shield and hoping his colleagues didn't dislike him, I stepped into view and yelled out, “Parley!” I had no idea if pirates actually had a rule for parley, or even if they parleyed, I could only hope that Pirates of the Caribbean had been somewhat accurate in that regard.
“That's Jeb!” One of the pirates called out, his pistol rising towards me and my prisoner, presumably Jeb, before the pirate captain knocked his aim off. The shot went somewhere over my shoulder.
“So, ye be the scurvy-dog who's been taking me men.”
“No, captain,” I replied. “Only this one and he attacked me first.” I took a deep breath and then a chance, cutting Jeb free and pushing him towards his crew. “I just want to talk.”
“Aye?”
“I've lost men too,” I said. “There is something else here hunting us.”
“And ye expect me to believe ye?” the pirate captain growled.
“Yes,” I replied, ignoring the faces Quinn was pulling behind the captain's back, although I assume one of the pirates didn't from the muffled omph Quinn gave. “I suggest we work together to stop whatever it is.”
The expression on the captain's face showed he didn't believe me, hell, in his place, neither would I. I wondered if I could reach cover before any of his men could shoot me, when I heard a strange noise, a kind of hoot but not.
Jeb frowned before saying, “That's the noise I heard before Tacks was taken, Cap't.”
I wasn't the only one looking around when I swung back at a cut-off yell. Jeb was struggling in mid-air, his arms and legs flailing, with something long and scaly wrapped around his neck, before he was hoisted out of sight and into the gloom above our heads. I could hear something scrambling up the lattice-work of pipes above us and then nothing.
The pirate captain swore as one of his men fired upwards. “Hold ye fire, ye bilge-rat, ye might hit old Jeb.” He turned to look at me before nodding, “Aye, parley it is.”
“Becker!”
I ignored Quinn's hiss as I walked towards the pirate captain, my hand outstretched. “Captain Becker, and these are my men.” I glanced at Quinn before adding, “And that's Quinn.”
The pirate captain glanced between us before something like a smile ghosted across his ruggedly-handsome face for an instant. “I be Gentleman Jack Morgan, Captain of the 'Sea Ghost',” he said as he shook my hand. He turned back to his men and ordered, “Release them and give them back their guns.”
I watched as my men rubbed their wrists, checked their weapons and refused to meet my eyes. Quinn, on the other hand, was far too chirpy for my liking. “Pirates! Becker!”
“Yes, Quinn,” I replied long-sufferingly and wondered if I could convince Lester that more punishment was required, before remembering that I'd probably have to baby-sit him again.
I caught the speculative look on Morgan's face before another hoot sounded and he asked, “What was that thing?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea, but I do know we're sitting ducks out here.”
“Sitting ducks?” Morgan asked, a puzzled look on his face.
“Easy targets for it to attack,” Quinn clarified.
“Aye,” Morgan said, a thoughtful look on his face. “We will return to the ship.”
“What about Jeb?” A fresh-faced pirate asked, fingering the hilt of his cutlass nervously.
I gripped Vera harder as the pirate crew grew angry, muttering amongst themselves and I recognised mutiny in the making. Unless Morgan acted quickly, he'd lose his position and I had no idea if the other pirates would honour our truce.
“Shit!” Quinn muttered, obviously coming to the same conclusion I had. “We've got to do something.”
“Wait, Quinn.” I grabbed him before he could step forward. “This is Morgan's fight, not ours.”
“But...”
“Don't be a fool,” I hissed at Quinn. “We're outnumbered, our only hope is if Morgan talks them around. By himself.”
Part 2
Author: knitekat
Word Count: 2796 in this part
Characters: Hilary Becker, Danny Quinn, OCs
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N 1: For Isellersfic's wonderful Danny-Becker art prompt Here and for my Primeval Bingo (Card 9) Prompt: Pirates.
A/N 2: Thanks go to Fififolle for the beta, any remaining mistakes are mine.
Part 2
I looked up from checking my favourite shotgun, Vera, when the office door opened, allowing the wind and rain in. I leaned forward to shield Vera from the worst before looking up to see Quinn looking as if he'd been dragged through a hedge before being dumped in a pond. “Everything OK out there?” I enquired as I watched a drop of water drip down Quinn's nose and splash with a ping onto the metal floor.
“It's pissing down and I'm soaked to the bloody skin,” Quinn groused. “If anything came through that anomaly Temple might have detected, it'll have pissed off back home.”
Any sympathy I might have had for the ex-copper vanished when he gave himself a shake and a droplet of water landed on Vera. I used the sleeve of my combats to wipe the offending drop off before burnishing the spot with my cleaning cloth until it shone. “We still needed to check it out,” I replied before turning my attention back to Vera, she had never failed me, and I smiled when her action slid smoothly. I looked up at Quinn when he made a strangled sound and raised an eyebrow in concern, the last thing I needed was an ill man out here. “Are you OK, Quinn?”
“Never better,” Quinn replied before quickly changing the subject. “I still don't see why we're here. It's a bloody disused oil rig in the middle of the North Sea, what harm could a creature do out here?”
“Because if it's amphibious it could move to the mainland,” I pointed out. “And there is a crew due in a month to start dismantling it.”
“Yeah,” Quinn reluctantly agreed. “I still don't see why Lester sent us though. There could be an incursion back home we're needed for.”
“Because,” I began patiently, “Someone, Quinn, decided to check security even when they knew Lester was getting a migraine.”
“I was sure I had a way in you hadn't thought to cover,” Quinn said.
I shook my head when he almost reminding me of my nephew when he'd been caught up to no good. That was not an image I wanted and instead I almost snarled back at him. “Which is why you set off the alarm and ended up with my shotgun in your face.”
“Fine.” Quinn raised his hands in surrender. “I made a mistake and Lester's punishing me for it, why are you here?”
“Because someone's got to keep an eye on you,” I muttered back. Even though I knew Lester was punishing me too, why else would I be babysitting Quinn? We couldn't even leave as the helicopter had flown off after dropping us off in the middle of nowhere. It almost reminded me of my training, but at least that had more people on it then my useless shower of men and Quinn.
“I'd have preferred to clean out his bloody pet mammoth.”
“I doubt he trusts you with his bloody pet mammoth, not after what happened last time.”
“That was an accident,” Quinn defended himself. “How was I to know it wouldn't agree with him?”
“By asking Abby?” I suggested, shuddering as I recalled that incident. Quinn was bloody lucky Monty made a full recovery otherwise he would have had both Lester and Abby after his head.
Quinn opened his mouth to say something, but I never found out what it was as my radio crackled. “Report!”
“Matthews, sir.” the radio crackled again, making it impossible to hear my man report.
“Matthews? Repeat your message,” I ordered. “Matthews?”
“Becker?” Quinn asked, only for me to raise a hand to stop him.
“Matthews? Report!”
“Sorry, boss,” Mathews finally responded. “I've got movement down here.”
“Damn it!” I snapped. “Where are you Matthews?”
“Bottom habitation level, boss,” Matthews replied. “I can hear voices, sir.”
“Voices?” Quinn said. “I thought this place was deserted?”
“Apparently not,” I said. “Matthews, I'm sending backup. Observe but do not interact with our guests.”
“Yes sir,” Matthews replied. “On...”
“Matthews!” I almost yelled into the radio. “Answer me, damn you!” The only sound was more crackling before I ordered my men to regroup and meet me in the canteen.
***
I shuddered slightly as I opened the office door and stepped out onto the grating, silently promising Vera a full overhaul once we returned home. The wind whipped around me and I hated to think what my hair would look like. I shook my head, trusting to my hair products to keep it from looking like Quinn's rat's nest and grabbed the handrail as I made my way down onto the deck. I could hear Quinn on the stairs behind me until he suddenly stopped.
“Becker!”
I turned, wondering what was wrong now, when I realised he was pointing frantically at something even if the wind was taking his words. I followed his excited pointing and closed my eyes, blinking to clear them but the view hadn't changed. There was a ship anchored at the base of the rig and it looked like something out of a bloody Hollywood movie. From the skull emblazoned on the black sails I noticed just before the crew lowered them, I had to assume it was a pirate ship. Well, that answered who Matthews had heard and who had my man. Bloody pirates!
I heard Quinn come down the stairs to join me, his voice excited as he declared, “It's a pirate ship!”
“I can see, Quinn,” I barked back before continuing to head down to meet my men, my mind whirling as I came up with options to deal with the pirates. At least they were men who I hoped I could reason with. “Come on, Quinn!” I yelled when I realised he was still watching the pirate ship.
***
I made my way towards the canteen, Quinn dogging my steps, when I paused at the sound of gunfire - both the sound of single shots which I assumed came from the pirates' weapons and the sharper rat-tat-tat of modern weapons. I clattered down the metal stairway, heedless of the rain or wind or that I might encounter pirates, I had to find out what had happened to my men.
I burst into the canteen and cursed when I realised the men I'd sent after Matthews weren't present. I glanced at the rest of my men, unsurprised to discover they were all nursing coffees and looking at each other nervously. I wondered who the hell I'd pissed off to be lumbered with them as well as Quinn, not that that was important right this moment.
No, finding out where my bloody men were and getting them back was. Still, first steps first, especially as I had no idea if my men had won their encounter with the pirates. What I needed most was intelligence, which left me in something of a quandary. I had no wish to leave my men to their own devices but I was also unwilling to trust scouting to either Quinn or my shower of men. While I considered my options, Quinn chimed in that he had done hostage negotiation as a copper, however on closer investigation, that apparently meant he'd attended a course on it. I could only hope he didn't attempt to use it and make a bad situation worse.
In the end, I compromised and took my men and Quinn with me; they'd do me no good up here if I did run into any pirates. Still, I left them at the bottom of the staircase, under cover and with excellent sight lines - if they paid attention - and continued on alone to scout out our opposition.
***
I moved slowly across the deck towards the dock being used by the pirate ship. I used all my training to move silently and as swiftly as I could, using the pipes as cover as I made an oblique approach. I cursed under my breath as I counted the number of pirates present, knowing that there had to be more of the ship I could just make out bobbing on the waves and that we were outnumbered, at least numerically if not technologically.
I turned to make my way back to my men, my mind already churning with possible plans, when I kicked something which skittered over the deck. I froze at the noise, holding my breath as I sought any sign that my presence had been noticed. I relaxed when it appeared my luck had held, only for some instinct to have me diving to one side.
I heard the sound of metal clanging on metal as I rolled to my feet, Vera held protectively in front of me, and found myself face-to-face with a pirate. I balanced on my feet as I took the measure of my foe. He was older than I was, with a weather-worn look and a livid scar cutting deep into the left side of his face, taking the eye and twisting his toothless grin into a snarl. I moved backwards to open up space between us and felt my boot knock into something. The pirate's eyes hardened at whatever it was and I risked a glance downwards, frowning when I realised it was a cutlass.
“What ye done with Tacks?” the pirate demanded as his cutlass blade slashed towards me, causing me to twist and duck away, feeling the movement of air from its passage. He swung at me once more and I had no option but to parry with Vera, wincing as the blade scraped on the barrel of my beloved shotgun and I knew I'd be burnishing her once I was home.
The pirate advanced towards me, his toothless grin growing as his cutlass moved constantly as if seeking a weakness in my defence and I knew he'd have no problem running me through with it. I, on the other hand, had no wish to shoot him and blamed too much time spent in Cutter's company on numerous Shouts. Cutter must have driven his obsession with not changing the timeline into my subconscious. That and who knew whose ancestor he might have been or what other effect killing him might have on the bloody timeline.
Still, the more time I spent sparring with the pirate meant the chances of someone hearing and investigating increased. Good news if it was my own men, but I was far nearer to the pirates. I waited for him to strike at me once more, ducked inside his guard and used Vera's butt to knock him cold. I fished into my pockets, pulled a couple of cable-ties free and bound his wrists behind his back, stuffed his disgustingly dirty neckerchief into his mouth and dragged him into a cupboard. It should keep him out of the way and out of trouble.
***
A commotion had me abandoning my original intention of re-joining my men and instead I crept back towards the dock, keeping low and to the shadows beneath the piping which ran across this part of the rig. I cursed when I saw the men I'd left with Quinn on their knees, guarded by a motley rag-tag group of pirates. I couldn't make a move on them, not with the number of bared blades and black-powder pistols pressed against throats and heads. I did a quick head count, noticing that I had lost Quinn from those present.
Bloody hell, I really couldn't leave them alone for one minute without them getting into trouble. All I could hope was that Quinn didn't try anything stupidly heroic, but then, this was Quinn I was talking about. I was considering my now limited options on how to end this situation without bloodshed and frantically trying to remember anything I could about pirates, when a spitting-mad Quinn was dragged into view. I almost showed myself when I noticed the cuts and bruises on Quinn's face, those bloody pirates had hurt him, but I knew being captured wouldn't help anyone.
A black-haired man wearing a fancy gold-embroidered frock coat stepped up to a struggling Quinn and grabbed his throat. His voice carried to his men and to my ears. “Are ye the scurvy-dog who's been picking us off one-by-one?” He shook Quinn when the ex-copper stubbornly refused to answer.
I frowned at the, I assumed, pirate captain's words. Something had been attacking his men as well as mine. I swallowed and looked around, knowing that something else had come through an anomaly other than these pirates. Something that was taking us out one-by-one and I knew there was only one way to stop it. Assuming this idea didn't backfire on me, that was.
I made my way back to the cupboard, grabbed the now recovered pirate and hauled him to his feet. Using him as a shield and hoping his colleagues didn't dislike him, I stepped into view and yelled out, “Parley!” I had no idea if pirates actually had a rule for parley, or even if they parleyed, I could only hope that Pirates of the Caribbean had been somewhat accurate in that regard.
“That's Jeb!” One of the pirates called out, his pistol rising towards me and my prisoner, presumably Jeb, before the pirate captain knocked his aim off. The shot went somewhere over my shoulder.
“So, ye be the scurvy-dog who's been taking me men.”
“No, captain,” I replied. “Only this one and he attacked me first.” I took a deep breath and then a chance, cutting Jeb free and pushing him towards his crew. “I just want to talk.”
“Aye?”
“I've lost men too,” I said. “There is something else here hunting us.”
“And ye expect me to believe ye?” the pirate captain growled.
“Yes,” I replied, ignoring the faces Quinn was pulling behind the captain's back, although I assume one of the pirates didn't from the muffled omph Quinn gave. “I suggest we work together to stop whatever it is.”
The expression on the captain's face showed he didn't believe me, hell, in his place, neither would I. I wondered if I could reach cover before any of his men could shoot me, when I heard a strange noise, a kind of hoot but not.
Jeb frowned before saying, “That's the noise I heard before Tacks was taken, Cap't.”
I wasn't the only one looking around when I swung back at a cut-off yell. Jeb was struggling in mid-air, his arms and legs flailing, with something long and scaly wrapped around his neck, before he was hoisted out of sight and into the gloom above our heads. I could hear something scrambling up the lattice-work of pipes above us and then nothing.
The pirate captain swore as one of his men fired upwards. “Hold ye fire, ye bilge-rat, ye might hit old Jeb.” He turned to look at me before nodding, “Aye, parley it is.”
“Becker!”
I ignored Quinn's hiss as I walked towards the pirate captain, my hand outstretched. “Captain Becker, and these are my men.” I glanced at Quinn before adding, “And that's Quinn.”
The pirate captain glanced between us before something like a smile ghosted across his ruggedly-handsome face for an instant. “I be Gentleman Jack Morgan, Captain of the 'Sea Ghost',” he said as he shook my hand. He turned back to his men and ordered, “Release them and give them back their guns.”
I watched as my men rubbed their wrists, checked their weapons and refused to meet my eyes. Quinn, on the other hand, was far too chirpy for my liking. “Pirates! Becker!”
“Yes, Quinn,” I replied long-sufferingly and wondered if I could convince Lester that more punishment was required, before remembering that I'd probably have to baby-sit him again.
I caught the speculative look on Morgan's face before another hoot sounded and he asked, “What was that thing?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea, but I do know we're sitting ducks out here.”
“Sitting ducks?” Morgan asked, a puzzled look on his face.
“Easy targets for it to attack,” Quinn clarified.
“Aye,” Morgan said, a thoughtful look on his face. “We will return to the ship.”
“What about Jeb?” A fresh-faced pirate asked, fingering the hilt of his cutlass nervously.
I gripped Vera harder as the pirate crew grew angry, muttering amongst themselves and I recognised mutiny in the making. Unless Morgan acted quickly, he'd lose his position and I had no idea if the other pirates would honour our truce.
“Shit!” Quinn muttered, obviously coming to the same conclusion I had. “We've got to do something.”
“Wait, Quinn.” I grabbed him before he could step forward. “This is Morgan's fight, not ours.”
“But...”
“Don't be a fool,” I hissed at Quinn. “We're outnumbered, our only hope is if Morgan talks them around. By himself.”
Part 2