The rays of the rising sun illuminated the dirty wall squeezing through the bars. Billy felt the salty flavour of the sea and listened to the distant squeaks of the seagulls in the port. There, for a second day now, the grinning head of the Fat Joe was swinging on the yard. He was lucky – he died in battle when their ship was taken in abordage.
His brave shipmates, though, weren’t that lucky. Today, at dawn, they were going to be hanged at the approving clamour of the crowd.