I was deep in my cups when the mutiny began. Even still, I’d split the pate of two with my cutlass before they’d torn it, dripping, from my hands and thrown me in the hold. A week I’d been left down there, with naught but the rats to stay my loneliness, and starvation.
It was there amid the rancid bilge I had my notion - A dread crew incapable of mutiny - of treachery - of anything beyond slaking their insatiable lust for blood! So, with hope renewed, I made good my escape...And now, with the infernal wailing of my new shipmates filling the sails, we embark to find our fortune, and may terror fill any that cross our bow.