Thunder rumbled as the hulls of the two mighty ships slammed against each another in a jolt that sent Merrick and his crew staggering. Grapnels were hurled and their ropes pulled taut until there was but a few gaping feet between the frigates. Merrick stood, hand on the hilt of his cutlass, at the head of his band of men. Numbering well over one hundred, his pirates covered the deck like flies on refuse, leaving barely a speck of wood in view. They growled at their adversaries in a defiant chant that assured them they would not go down without a bloody fight.
In a challenging reply, Kent's men lined the deck of the Vanquisher. Like monkeys, some hung from the ratlines and shrouds, howling insults upon their foes; others stood on the bulwarks and railings, brandishing cutlasses and pistols, grimacing in anticipation of battle.