The wind whipped at my tattered jacket sleeve. The unholy mixture of salt, blood and sweat sickened me. My severed stump floated on the waves, sailing true north, until the menacing visage of the great white crested the surface and swallowed my dearly departed appendage.
Across the water, standing astern, laughing, the ghostly flicker of the Buccaneer gripped my eye. But with relief I heard his mast crashing into the sea. Our gamble had worked. The Hell Frigate drifted away helplessly.
The hunt was just getting started. I knew it would continue throughout the Seven Seas and into my nightmares.
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