Black Sails: The War That Could've Been

Low I

He sat in the Captain's quarters, comfortably stretched out in a wooden chair. He leaned on one hand and used the other to play with a knife. Using his thumb, he caressed the blade, feeling the sharpness press against his skin. „A lovely feeling" -he thought. Meanwhile outside, amongst the hustle, men could be heard shouting. They sounded furious, yet they were not arguing. It was quite the opposite; they were agreeing on something. The ship was anchored off the coast of Nassau, as the crew loaded it with fresh water and supplies. Everyone worked hard to restock the ship's hold with new provisions because they thought the faster this would be done, the quicker they would sail away. However the closer they got to the end goal, the more they realised that the intentions of their Captain were much different. Ned was aware of the discontent his crew showed, yet he didn't care. „You do as I say, or you will lose your hands" -he would say to anyone who disobeyed his orders. Ned Low was a firm believer of the theory that fear was the best way to be obeyed. For if you were feared, you were also respected. However there was only so much fear the crew could endure, as he was about to find out.

His solitude was disturbed by a knock on the door, followed by a man entering the room. It was the Quartermaster.

„How may I help you?" asked Low, without lifiting his eyes off the knife.

„Captain, it's the crew. They are..displeased, to say the least." replied the Quartermaster.

„And you wouldn't happen to know why that could be?" Ned asked with nonchalance.

„Captain, you know very well why the men are angry. They want to refill the ship with supplies and sail away from here, away from the Governor. Yet they get the impression that you will do no such thing."

Ned dropped the knife and let it fall to the floor. He moved his eyes to meet the Quartermaster in a deadly stare.

„Mr Holmes. I won't be explaining myself again. But I will say this; if there is any more anger amongst the crew, you shall address them. You will tell them, that any man found disobeying or plotting against me, will be punished most severly." he said, without blinking.

Mr Holmes carefully considered his reply, and finally answered:

„The men are plotting a mutiny, Captain. They intend to sack this ship and sail away, overthrowing you in the process, and either leaving you here or killing you."

At these words, Ned smiled. He stood up and walked up to the Quartermaster, standing inches away from his face. A period of eye contact ensued, followed by Low opening the door and making his way out onto the deck. He slowly walked into the centre by the mast. Seeing this, the men paused and looked his way. He began to speak:

„I've heard..I've heard. I know what is amiss here. I know there are men here who wish me ill luck. So, I kindly ask those men to step forward and prove their point, instead of cowering behind their Quartermaster."

Nobody moved, apart from one man. He was tall, well built and sported a long, red beard. He walked down to meet the Captain in the eye. The one eye he had. But before he could utter a word, Low, with one rapid motion, reached for his dagger and pulled it out, cutting the man's neck with a lightning quick slash. Dying, the man desperately attempted to close the wound with his hands, but ultimately failed and fell onto the wooden floor, face first. Having seen this, three other men reached for their swords and charged at their Captain. Low turned to face them. He pulled out a pistol, and shot one of the attackers. Having hit his target in the brains, he dropped the gun and went for his sword. He managed to unsheath it just in time to block an attack from the second man. Low deflected another strike, this time from the third one, and followed through with a strong slash. He landed his hit, striking the victim in the side. The man tumbled to the ground. Ned turned to face the remaining adversary. They faced each other, both waiting for a move. Eventually, Low unleashed a series of slashes, all of them blocked except for one, which hacked his enemy into the temple, and left him for dead. The Captain was breathless. He stood there, with an eye wide open, wiping his cutlass off his trousers. The man who sustained a strike to the side was still alive, struggling to arise. Low noticed this and picked up his pistol from the floor of the deck. He took all the time in the world to reload it, then aimed for the man's head and pulled the trigger. It was done. All three were dead. The rest of the crew watched in shock, struggling to believe what just happened.

Noticing the bewilderment on the faces of his men, Low produced a sadistic smile and exclaimed:

„This is the fate of a mutineer! This is the fate of a fucking coward! I urge the rest of you to fall in line, and obey. Failure to do so will result in more of what you just witnessed."

Nobody dared to dispute any of those words, instead everyone resumed the tasks they had left behind. Satisfied, the Captain returned to his quarters. Tired, he closed the door behind him, and sat on the chair once again. He picked the knife he dropped earlier up from the floor, and began to play with it. „If only they knew, what I truly have in store for them, I would already be a dead man." -he thought, as he sat there, one-eyed and covered in the blood of his brothers.