Page 22 of Dead Serious Halloween Special

“What is it?”

“Sir, deepest apologies, but we no longer have a yardarm. It was accidentally broken last week while the crew were playing cannonball cricket.”

Blackbeard pauses, his expression contemplative, then turns to the assembled crew. “Tie ’em to the jibboom!”

“Sir.” The slim man clears his throat again, drawing Blackbeard’s attention. “Once more, a thousand apologies, but we no longer have a jibboom either.”

“We don’t?” He frowns.

The other man shakes his head. “It was damaged yesterday when the crew were playing fireball volleyball.”

“Bowsprit?”

The petite man shakes his head slightly.

Blackbeard scowls. “Well, what do we have?”

“Um.” The small man looks around thoughtfully. “We have a comfy sofa on the recreational deck?”

Blackbeard closes his eyes and sighs loudly, then composes himself and fixes his attention on the crew, who aretwitchingwith anticipation while they await his orders.

“Tie ’em”—he glances back at the small man dubiously, who nods with a smile of encouragement—“to the… comfy… sofa.”

A loud cheer is followed by several heartyarghhhhs!and then there’s a flurry of activity. Several men disappear through the black wood cabin doors whose edges are gilded gold.

Aidan and I are wrenched off the floor and lifted aloft by many pairs of hands. From where I’m dangling awkwardly, I see the other crew members reappear, carrying a worn-looking but plush crimson velvet sofa between them.

“Ow,” Aidan mutters as we’re dumped on the cushioned seat with a little bounce and collide with each other.

They then proceed to tie us to the sofa withelaborate knots and lots and lots of rope.

“Prepare to get underway!” Blackbeard stalks up and down the deck, yelling at his scrambling crew. “Hoist the mainsail, raise the anchor!” He pauses, turns to the little clerk guy, and raises one brow, his tone dry. “Do we still have one of those?”

He winces, and Blackbeard growls. “Just go and deal with those two.” He points at me and Aidan, then stalks into his cabin.

Hastening to obey his orders, the clerk scurries across the deck and stops in front of us, still clutching his journal and quill.

“Good evening.” He gives us both a wide, friendly smile. “My name is Oren, and I’m Captain Blackbeard’s events coordinator. I’m in charge of ship morale, making sure the crew are happy and entertained while maintaining a strict fitness regime. After all, heart health is very important!”

He chuckles happily.

“I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for joining us today as our hostages. The crew are very excited to have you with us. While stuck within the pages of The Gospodar, they just don’t get the chance to commit a kidnapping as often as they’d like, so this is really special.”

He presses his hand to his chest in a sentimental gesture.

“You’ll notice your ropes and bindings are of the finest Persian weave and are, of course, included as part of your welcome package.”

He dips his fingers into the pocket of his doublet and retrieves a small brass pocket watch, thentuts.

“Ooh, we do seem to be running a tad behind schedule. We have a poison darts tournament at ten followed by rum cocktails on the lido deck at eleven. However, we are hoping to serve supper before you walk the plank but after your trial.”

“Trial?” I blurt out.

Oren hums slightly. “Not exactly a trial, more a recounting of your crime,” he clarifies, then tucks his watch back in his pocket. “Right, then. I think that covers everything. Just holler if you need anything and thank you once again for choosing the Queen Anne’s Revenge as the destination for your ultimate demise.Please don’t be shy withany feedback as we do like to make sure we continuously improve our service.”

He steps back and gives us an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Thank you.”