A pirate's last stand.
|Pirate at Bay
Captain Hook, dread pirate of the seven seas, watched the square through a top storey window of the inn. Out there, scrambling from cover to shadow, the revenue men gathered on Hook’s last stand, already becoming bold with the halted shooting from the inn. Overhead the moon turned the scene into a patchwork quilt of light and dark, a stark parody of its daytime appearance.
“Arr, ye lubbers,” said Hook quietly, “ye’ll think thyselves mighty fine if ye dream of catching me, the terror of the Spanish Main. I might be trapped right now but, if any man can find a way out, it’s me. Give me five of my best men from the Dark Angel and I’d tan yer hides afore shipping out for Barbados.”
The threat was empty for Hook knew well that downstairs the last of his crew lay dead, slain in the desperate defence against the revenuers. And now they closed in, growing ever more certain that their prey was done for.
Hook had one last round in his pistol, after which he was down to cutlass and knife. He doubted that they’d let him get close enough to use them and, for the first time he wondered whether he should use the pistol on himself. Better that than to swing on the end of a rope, he thought.
Then the moon disappeared behind a cloud and the square below was flooded in deep darkness. Without a thought, Hook climbed on to the sill of the window and out onto the roof. Tiles scraped under his boots as he gingerly made his way to the safety of the brick chimney.
“Ye’ll not got me now,” muttered Hook. “I can wait thee out, patience being my bread and butter.”
Word Count: 292
For Daily Flash Fiction Challenge, 09/04/20
Prompt: Use the words bread, hook, square, word limit 300