The merchant ship bobbed up and down invitingly with each gentle wave. Black Bekhar grinned as he saw her, perched as he was on the mast of his pirate ship. Beside him his lookout chuckled in the morning light. It was he who had first spotted the ship. He turned to grace Bekhar with a gap-toothed grin of black and yellow and the aroma of a durian.

“Oh, what a sight! A fat ship like that just for the taking. And just a day after we took the merchant!”

That merchant ship was just behind them, following along under a prize crew, though most of its cargo had been transferred to Bekhar’s ship. It had been a brief fight, the pirates only losing a couple men. Before the merchant captain had bled out, he had spoken of strange ships to the north, bigger and taller than any he had ever seen in these waters. Bekhar had found the stories interesting, but the captain had been scant on the details. He had sailed south to avoid trouble with them… and had found trouble instead with Black Bekhar’s band of pirates. Bekhar squinted at the ship again. It was still some distance away, but it clearly wasn’t one of the ships the merchant captain had spoken of. It looked like just another local trading ship, likely laden with an assortment of linens or spices. His reverie was broken by a voice from the deck below.

“How’s it looking, Captain?”

Bekhar looked down at the deck, half-filled with curious pirates, coiled rope, and several crates from yesterday’s capture.

“It’s looking like a day of plunder, boys!”

Bekhar scrambled down the mast, smiling as he heard cheering break out. The mast was stout wood, slippery from sea breeze, but this was as much a home to Bekhar as anywhere else and he shimmied down without a single misplaced foothold. Yet when he reached the bottom, he saw that several men were arguing, and more than a few pirates looked reluctant, faces puckered like they had bitten into something foul.

“What’s the matter, boys?” Bekhar asked. “Got no fire in you?”

One squat older pirate weaved his way through the crowd. He stuck his pugnacious face in front of Bekhar’s, bent nose and broken teeth and all. The man was named Ganasa, and he had tangled with Bekhar before on more than one occasion.

“We need a vote,” Ganasa said.

He turned around to face the crowd, his arms spread wide. Bekhar snorted behind him as he clasped a hand on the long-axe he had left laying on the deck. It bore a crude resemblance to the halberds some of the Three Kingdoms soldiers bore, though the edge was jagged and scored by a dozen marks. The weapon was a weighty hunk of curved metal fastened to a sturdy pole, and had been with Bekhar for years.

“Fellow crewmen!” Ganasa said. “We need to decide whether to continue on back to port or dither around chasing another ship.”

There was an assortment of grumbles and calls of assent about this, and discussion broke out all along the deck. Bekhar frowned. As far as he could tell the only dithering about was coming from Ganasa. But Bekhar knew the old man spoke for much of the crew, and it was better to bring dissent out into the open so it could be pummeled down for all to see.

“A vote, then!” Bekhar barked out. “Let’s be about it.”

There was a flurry of activity along the deck now, men running to inform others stationed along the deck.

Ganasa turned to Bekhar, his eyebrow raised. “Shall we bring the prize crew over to vote?”

Bekhar shook his head. “We don’t have the time for it,” he said harshly. A fighting bunch, they would likely support Bekhar’s view, but it would take too long to ferry them over.

Ganasa shrugged. “I have no objection.”

Bekhar scowled at the man. Ganasa was too attached to the egalitarian traditions of the South Sea pirates. That had been all well and good when Bekhar was earning a reputation over the years, but ever since he had been elected captain Ganasa had been a thorn in his side. Still, Bekhar could swallow his anger as long as the debate and discussion was brief and the vote in his favor. The bulk of the pirate force was now assembled and Ganasa was holding forth, making his way through the throngs of raggedly dressed corsairs.

“We have just taken a ship and cargo and are near to port! Our holds are full to bursting and prosperity awaits just days away. Why delay the debauchery?”

“Hear hear!” several men shouted in agreement. Bekhar cracked his knuckles and took a few steps forward, drawing the attention of the pirate crew.

“Aye, we’re near to port, so there’s even more reason to take another ship. We-” he paused as cheering broke out, his constituents hearkening to his words.

Ganasa shook his head in hearty disapproval, his tangled gray hair waving around wildly. He sighed deeply for dramatic effect, as if at a wayward child, and the surrounding men hushed to hear his next words.

“We cannot hope to take all the vessel’s cargo. In a ship that size, there’s bound to be guards, and that means good men dying.” Ganasa paused to take a breath. “And some of us will die as well,” he added to chortles.

He turned, gesturing dramatically as his hair flew around in a whirl.

“And besides, when was the last time you saw a woman? We’ve caught ourselves a big catch already, but every fisherman knows when his net is full.”

Bekhar guffawed, slapping his fist against a nearby crate.

“Are we fishermen or are we pirates? We take the ship, we take the cargo, we take the victory and we take it all to port! Ah, to hell with you if you don’t want to fight!”

Bekhar spat onto the deck as men around him hollered and pounded their feet on the ground. Some stood silent and grim, but Bekhar reckoned most of the men were with him.

“Sick for a woman? For all you know the nearest woman might be aboard that,” he said, with a nod at the distant sails of the merchant vessel. Several nearby dissenters paused to consider this new line of argument.

“Let’s have it out then!” Bekhar snarled. “To a vote and be done with it!”

Ganasa stood still for some time, basking in the attention as the crew rumbled and grumbled and hissed like a pot about to boil over. Just as it began rising to a tumult Ganasa gave a firm nod.

“To a vote then!”

Bekhar climbed on a crate and whirled his scowling face from side to side, staring into the eyes of the rabble that littered the open deck.

“Lily-livered cowards who want to piss off back to port say aye!”

Ganasa glared and shouted something, but it was lost in the ensuing roar. A good chunk of the crew shouted and banged their feet, much more than Bekhar expected. After a minute a sort of silence fell, a lowering of grumbles and curses into a steady ship-wide muttering, which was the best anyone could hope for when it came to voting.

Bekhar snorted in exaggerated contempt. “And for you right-thinking lads who want to take the ship, say aye!”

The crew made a thunderous noise, Bekhar chief among them, yelling as he banged the haft of his long-axe on the deck. They finally fell silent, Bekhar grinning, knowing that he had more supporters than opponents. Ganasa grimaced, as usual dragging out the moment. Finally he nodded to Bekhar, admitting that Bekhar’s side had the votes. The crew was not particularly fond of counting unless it came down to treasure but most of them still had both their ears.

“Take us in,” Bekhar snapped to the helmsman. “Everyone else, ready your gear. Same as always, we get in close and board. You kill a man, you get his gear. Everything else gets split once we take it.”

Around him men had left to grab their various patchwork pieces of armor. Metal armor was a rarity among pirates, most men in a mesmerizing mix of boiled leather and tattered cloth which from a distance made them look like scuttling crabs.

Bekhar looked over at Ganasa, still looking sour as ever. “You with me, you old sea dog?”

The man grunted, made as if to spit, but coughed instead. “Of course,” he said finally. “You won’t see me shirking.”

“You’ll be front and center then?” Bekhar asked with a grin.

“Well…” the man trailed off, but Bekhar had already moved on, slapping backs and encouraging the nearby men. Bekhar nodded at a pirate with a rusty falchion, motioning for the man to lean close.

“I’ve a mind to make you captain of the prize crew,” Bekhar whispered in the man’s ear, a tattered thing with three jangling golden rings pierced through. The man beamed back at Bekhar.

“You have to earn it, though,” Bekhar added. He pointed at the man’s sweat-stained tunic. “I want that red when you’re done.”

The man nodded eagerly. “I won’t let you down, Captain.” He wet his lips. “And the bonus? When the ship sells?”

“Of course, of course,” Bekhar said vaguely as he moved on. The man pushed his way forward to the front rank as the pirate ship steadily closed in. Bekhar looked around approvingly at the mass of pirates readying themselves to board. Despite their reservations, they seemed eager now.

“Captain!” the lookout cried, interrupting Bekhar’s thoughts. Bekhar scrambled back up the mast. The man pointed out at the merchant vessel. “It’s a ship, sir!” he whispered.

Bekhar stared at the man for a moment, wondering if the man had lost his wits. “Of course it’s a ship, you idiot!”

“No, Captain! Behind the merchant vessel.”

Bekhar looked back.

“Wait for the waves to raise it up,” the lookout said quietly.

Bekhar watched as the merchant vessel slowly bobbed up and down on the rising tide. There was a sudden gleam of reflected metal behind the ship, and as Bekhar squinted, he made out a squat dark outline on the far side. After a moment the merchant vessel’s sails obscured the second ship once more.

“Should we tell them?” the lookout asked. Bekhar thought for a moment of what the second ship would mean. He hadn’t seen anything quite like that but it was clearly a small vessel, not even the size of most barges. Perhaps it was meant for ferrying supplies. Bekhar scratched his scraggly beard for a moment, but his decision had already been made. If they hadn’t heard the hooting and hollering, they certainly must have spotted the pirate ship by now. Bekhar sniffed. And with the wind behind their sails, they definitely must have noticed the ripe smell of a pirate crew.

“Best if you don’t mention it,” he said finally, grinning at the lookout. “You did well to let me know first. The men, they won’t all realize what a great boon another ship will be,” he explained.

The lookout smiled, bowing his head slightly.

“Pilot!” Bekhar shouted, making the lookout wince at the sudden noise. “Take us in close, nice and fast!”

“Aye, sir!” the man shouted back. Bekhar noticed a commotion on the deck below, and he leaned out precariously to observe the men below.

“Ho there, it’s another ship!” one of the pirates said, leaning up against the prow.

Bekhar swung around the lookout nest, looking at the almost-abandoned aft deck.

“Lupio! Unfurl the black flag!” The man nodded, and along with the crew around him began changing their neutral merchant sails for the black flag of piracy. Bekhar usually waited until his ship was closer, but he would make an exception in this instance. He didn’t want any vote-loving bastards agitating for a second referendum.

The shouting below him increased, Ganasa bellowing something about the second ship. Bekhar leaned over to look at his crew below.

“Two prizes for one fight!” He yelled out triumphantly. “Prepare for boarding!”

It was then that the firing began.