17 Three Captains (1/2)
A partner to the winds around him, Atau swept across the deck, tipping the balance of each fight in favor of the defenders. As soon as the warrior got involved, none of the mutineers could even provide token resistance. Oh, there had been a few proper fighters aboard, men who had gone through pirate attacks, or had engaged in the ignoble trade themselves, and had the scars to prove it. However, even they were nothing but children before the sheer force of Atau's cultivated power.
With a simple tackle of his shoulder, the warrior forced the large man before himself back onto the stairs to the quarterdeck. Winded from the impact and confused by the inhuman strength he had fallen victim to, the sailor took a few seconds to push himself back up. It was more than enough time for Atau to close in and bring down the bloody saber in his hand.
In desperation, the man managed to bring his own weapon between Atau and his fragile body, but it wouldn't be enough. The force of the hit alone was enough to smash aside the enemy's blade, before Atau's weapon embedded itself deep in the mutineer's chest. As he removed his weapon, the warrior did his best to ignore the dying man's eyes. However, the sailor's rib cage was as tenacious as the sailor himself. Even as Atau increased his strength, the bones and muscle would not let go of the blade. Tormented by continuous strain, the cheap iron saber broke off, leaving a raw blade stuck inside of its last victim. Without remorse, the warrior dropped the broken handle. It was soon succeeded by the weapon the dead man had dropped just moments ago.
*No loyalty in a blade,* Atau thought as he studied his new weapon, up and down. More of a short sword than a saber, but the pointy end would still work just the same. At last, with a weapon returned to his hand, the warrior turned to look over the results of his rampage. Even before he saw them, he could hear them in his ear. Screams of pain and desperation, from men who had been at the wrong end of a battle, for the first and last time in their lives. Lying here and there in puddles of blood, some in search of lost limbs, the mutineers showed the full extent of human misery. Shocked, lost and confused stood the survivors, sprinkled around what was left of the mutiny, without rhyme or reason.
Most of the crew had been hit by total surprise and still had a hard time grasping the new roles of their former colleagues, but a few still knew what had to be done. The few men who were still alive, but too injured to save, received the coup de grâce they had been hoping for. Finally, the entire main deck had been cleaned of vermin. Not one mutineer had been left alive.
”Lower the sails” first mate Atau shouted.
At last, all eyes focused on the monster who had single-handedly decided the battle in their favor. In the eyes of the crewmen, he could sense just as much fear as gratitude.
”You got saltwater in your ears? If we don't wanna shatter on those cliffs around us, at least we should slow the ship down, right? Drifting is better than sinking! So get a move on you wimps, and cut those sails!”
At last, the first of the men moved, one of the brave ones who had relieved the final mutineers of their duties. Orin, Atau remembered. A loud and spirited ”aye aye” put the others out of their catatonic state as well and soon, the men became preoccupied with work again, too busy to consider what had happened. With a short nod towards Atau, Orin spoke his silent acknowledgment of their temporary leader. His message made clear, he went over to another group of crewmen and began to talk in a spirited manner. However, none of it mattered to Atau. There was still work to be done up above.
*Just one more place,* the warrior thought as he took the steps over the corpse and up to the quarterdeck. There, he would find the captain, and the ship's steering. Whatever else was going on, they would have to get control of the Delahlia back before the cliffs did irreversible damage to the ship. As he stepped up, he saw the full extend of the damage. The attackers had concentrated their betrayal here, to get swift power over the ship's controls and subvert the captain before anyone could interfere. With the captain's life in their hands, they would have had a much easier time getting their terms across, and it would have been far easier to force the crew into submission.
However, their plans had gone wrong, horribly so. No one else on the ship would know, since captain Rickert was not known for a hands-on approach, but as his first mate over the past two weeks, Atau had become privy to his secret. The captain, who had always been so disciplined and never fought anyone, was in fact a former knight, a cultivator himself. A man of honor and strength, who would never yield to such a cowardly attack. Thus, he found the quarterdeck in much the same state the main deck down below.
The washing waves created streaky patterns in the red-coated floorboards, as men were begging for death, and given the grace by their former mates. However, here the battle had ended in favor of the mutineers. No matter how good a cultivator Rickert had been, the numbers on the quarterdeck had been far too unbalanced. Thus Atau found the captain, covered in streaks of red, with a saber in his side, leaned against the ship's stern.
Though his always alert, emerald eyes aimed straight at his first mate, they had lost their sheen, staring into nothing, or into the world beyond. The captain was dead. Around him stood the ones at fault for this massacre, for this injustice. Old John, Polder and the rest of their gang of reverers. In the end, only half a dozen had survived the ferocious defense the captain had launched for his ship and crew. Even the ones left with their lives looked exhausted or injured. In the end, it was Atau's loud steps and his heavy breathing which alerted them to his presence. He wouldn't sneak up on them. There was no need.
”As low as any man can sink. You've lost the right to call yourselves sailors,” the warrior's heavy voice droned out.
”What do you know, you big bastard!? See that knife? I killed the captain! That means I'm the new boss now!” Polder, all proud of himself, pointed to the corpse of Rickert, and to the saber stuck in his side. From the blade's angle, it was obvious that the final blow had been made from the back.
*Coward.*
”Now what, big bastard? Speechless?” With a grin on his face, the mutineer picked up the mace before Rickert's feet. Atau had seen the crazy weapon before. Eight giant prongs of metal around a metal shaft, it was the captain's weapon of choice, which must have taken more than a few lives in its final fight with its master. Now, the captain's killer had picked up the captain's weapon, to show his own ambitions. In support, old John stepped forward as well. Of course the shrewd oldie would be fine after the battle. If nothing else, at least his age showed that he knew how to survive.
”The captain's dead, and we'll need someone to lead the ship through the currents and past the Cape. Who's gonna do that if not us? We got the most days at sea anyways.”