Teddy Spud and his first adventure on a Pirate Ship 4

Spud crouched behind the railings as the waves dashed over him. At that moment he felt very alone and very cold. The horizon tipped and rocked queasily but he did not feel sea-sick any more and the long knife at his waist was a constant reminder that he would see death soon. The bandolier with its three pistols seemed a dead-weight, and he had no idea how to fire them, or more importantly, how to load them again and his knees felt decidedly weak. On each side of him crouched the pirate hoard, bears of all shapes and sizes, manufacturer’s labels fluttering madly in the salty wind. Rascal stood in the prow, swinging a grappling hook. His long red hair and his long red beard had been woven into a Medusa of snakes, and from the end of each one hung the tarry rope used by the gunners. They smouldered and glowed as they blew about him so that the ship appeared to be captained by the devil himself. The pirate to Spud’s left was a long-shanked old bear with a rumbling growl of a voice and chest completely threadbare, His nails were long and thick, digging into the timber of the rail.
“Are you scared?” asked Spud.
“Grrrrrrrr-of course I’m bloody scared.”
Spud watched the damaged schooner get nearer. Through the spray he saw the gun-ports along her side flip open and the stubby black muzzles of cannon poked through.
“They’re going to shoot at us! We’ll be hit. We need to hide!”
A cruel paw grasped his shoulder and the nails bit deep. “Grrrrrrrrrrrr- lilly-livered spawn of a whore, stand thee firm – grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”
Spud closed his eyes (which he could do now) and tried to pray the way he had heard Hattie pray, before she got too old to kneel down. “Our father, who art in heaven-”
“Grrrrrrrrrr!”
He stopped, and watched the ship get closer and closer. When they were so close he could see rifles bristling along the deck, and blue uniforms strutting to and fro, the deck heaved below him and he was thrown on his back. The broadside was a shattering roar as cannon after cannon fired, and the enemy ship vanished in a dense cloud until the wind whipped it away. The ship was now astern but gaping holes ran along the side and Spud could only guess what the carnage would be like in there, the air a mass of flying daggers of wood. But the ship came about and this time, it fired first and the deck shivered.
Longshanks was shaking his fist at the enemy ship, waving his cutlass and growling terribly until another cannon fired. The railing was gone in an instant and the bear was gone, whirled away across the deck. Spud ran after him as another cannon ball crashed into his comrades. He ducked falling timbers and leaped over a body, sliding on his knees to the side of the stricken bear. Musket balls twanged and whined about him, punching holes through the flapping sales.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Oh grrrrr. Grr,” the old bear panted. “Do I’s look all right, matey? Tell me the worst, tell me if I’s dying. I needs to make my peace with God.”
Spud looked at the bear’s body and he was not all right. The cannon ball must have struck his legs, for one was gone completely and where once a metal plate might have existed, or a simple joint, there was now a horrible mess of bone and raw meat. The other leg was missing below the knee, but the stump was neatly furred and the peg-leg had been plunged into the mast like a lance by the force of the blast.
“Grrrrrrr – well?”
Spud wiped away a tear.
“That bad?”
The little bear nodded. “It’s your leg. It’s gone. You’re bleeding all over the deck. I don’t think-”
Something very strange happened at that point. The abomination that had once been the bear’s hip seemed to change and it was like looking at shapes in the mist. Spud rubbed his eyes and the mist cleared, but now he was looking at a metal plate, and the bear that had been alive was a stuffed toy once more. Spud tried to lift the bear’s head but all he heard was a rusty growl from a bear left out in the rain.
“Look lively, over there!”
He jumped to his feet in time to see the masts and sails of the enemy ship collide with theirs, and battle-lust gripped him like a fever. He drew the sword and screamed as he followed the others over the side, and into the battle.