“Discipline,” shouted the captain, “is essential! Three days in the crow’s nest.”
Better than flogging, thought Jim, until the nausea started. Every wave swung Jim in a dizzying arch. He curled up, retching. “Damn the captain.”
Shouts below. Jim peered over the lip.
A ship swung broadside, releasing grapeshot. Gunwales splintered. Sails shredded. Decks ran red.
Another salvo. The ship listed, sank, swallowing captain and crew.
The sea approached. “Save me,” Jim prayed.
The hull crunched on coral, suspending Jim a fathom above water.
The attacking ship sailed off.
“Come back,” Jim called.
It didn’t. Not all prayers are answered.