The Captain climbed the steps two at a time, his heavy boots thudding against the worn wood. He stood beside Buck, following his gaze to a dark shape on the horizon—a ship, listing hard to port, its sails torn and dragging in the water like dead birds.

Within minutes, the deck was alive with bare feet and drawn cutlasses. The crew moved like shadows, silent and practiced. The damaged ship drifted closer, groaning with every wave, its hull cracked and blackened in places as if it had been through something far worse than a storm.

A rope was thrown across the gap between the ships. A figure stumbled onto the deck of the wounded vessel, waving weakly.

The Captain glanced at his crew, then back at the stranger. He nodded slowly, a single, deliberate motion.