Chapter 35

"Are you ready for this, Emma?" Baelfire's forehead creased with his concern, both his hands resting on the cannon's barrel.

"What are you talking about?" Her head whipped toward him. This was not the time for conversation. "Of course. I've already loaded it. Are you ready? Do you know how to do this?" It wasn't a skill she wanted to have to question. Not right now. Not when the command to fire could come at any second.

"Wait, what?" He straightened, taken aback. "Yes, I know how to work a damn cannon. I just meant that battles get bloody. I want to make sure you're prepared."

"I've done this before, Bae. I've been in more than one battle down here on the gun deck, and last time I was even up there with a sword. I know what to expect, I know what I'm doing, and I don't need to be coddled." Her arms crossed over her chest as her eyes narrowed at him.

"I'm not trying to-" he cut his own words short as their volume began to rise, and he took a steadying breath. "That's not what I'm trying to do. Just..." He shrugged, dropping his gaze away. "Good luck, or whatever."

"Oh." Emma felt a blush warming her face. She hadn't meant to attack him, but had done so reflexively due to an assumption she'd made – a wrong one. "Thank you," she mumbled. "You too."

He only grunted in response. In an attempt to avoid eye contact and ignore the awkward aura that had settled in around them, both stared out the hole where the cannon aimed, watching the distance between them and their target decrease. Emma knew now how far the cannonballs would fly once sent into the air, and they were rapidly nearing that range. The muscles of her legs tensed at the anticipation of springing into action and racing between the rolling cannons to resupply for the next shot. Killian's command would be coming within moments, she knew.

A thundering din crashed against their eardrums as the other ship fired first. Her volley was premature, however. Killian called a command to continue holding their fire while the enemy projectiles dropped wastefully into the waves. Emma's jaw clenched, and then she smirked as the other ship attempted to make a turn that might give her guns a better angle. Unfortunately for her, she was far more cumbersome than the Jolly Roger was. Maneuvers would not save them, but they didn't seem to know that yet.

"He shouldn't have raised the colors so early," Baelfire grumbled. "I don't know why he even bothers with the flag, really. Takes away all the element of surprise. Why give up the advantage?"

"He says it's good form. Also that it 'strikes dread into men's hearts' when they see it coming. People make stupid decisions when they're scared, like they just did. They fired early; now they have to reload. They won't be ready to fire the next round when we reach firing distance. We gave them warning, but we'll still get in the first hit."

"All right, I guess that—"

"Fire!"

The order roared down from above, and the opportunity to talk had passed. The gun deck erupted with sound and clamoring motion. When the cannon forcefully recoiled, Emma's hands were already moving swiftly and deftly to swab it before she heard wood shattering in the distance. One or more of their shots had done its job. Emma didn't look yet. First she focused on packing the cannon again with powder and ammunition, once again loading the chain shot, which could cripple their quarry either by breaking a mast or leaving a significantly larger hole in her hull.

With a relieved exhale, Emma completed her task, knowing that the order for the next volley would come at any second. Until it did, she could catch a glimpse of the damage they'd done. The other ship's bowsprit had been severed, but was still hanging from some of her lines, and a large portion of her rail at midship was missing. The splintered wood surrounding the hole resembled the jagged fangs of some monstrous maw. It was fitting. Once the Jolly's crew had finished with her, that ship would soon consume any lives left aboard as she sank into oppressively dark and icy depths. The few life rafts she'd had on her deck were all left lying broken. There would be no possibility of escape now.

Then, Emma heard it before she felt it. The enemy blast resounded louder than the first, and this time came accompanied by the sound of wood cracking. She slammed to the ground, landing hard on her right shoulder, but it was her upper arm on the opposite side that radiated a pain intense enough to leave her hardly able to breathe. If she could, she would have been screaming.

"Emma!" Baelfire's face swam into view through the smoke around them and the stars she was seeing as he dropped down into a crouch beside her. "Fuck. Emma, are you alright? Talk to me."

"Don't tell Hook," she managed to gasp out.

"Are you serious?" His eyes went wide with his bewilderment. "That's what you're worried about right now? Your arm's not supposed to look like that, Emma. It's definitely broken. We've got to take care of you."

"Take care of the cannon." Air started to come to her again. "Broken arm won't kill me, but we might all die if we lose this battle. You know the punishment for piracy? And I'm sure King George has a special grudge against Hook that probably extends to his crew." Wincing, she managed to push herself up to a seated position. Baelfire tried to grab for her in order to prevent her from straining, but retracted his hands hurriedly after almost accidentally grasping her more seriously injured arm. Using her feet, she pushed herself farther away from the cannon and its path, just before they heard Killian's shout for the next volley. "Do it," Emma insisted.

His nostrils flared. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?" Still, despite the sentiment, he stood and lit the fuse. Its fire came slightly after the others due to Baelfire's hesitance, but that made it easy to see that it was that shot that took down the foremast. Emma felt a surge of pride that she wasn't sure was truly warranted. Another of the cannons had pierced the other ship's stern at the waterline, and the ship was visibly taking on water.

When Baelfire came to crouch by her again, Emma did her best to shoo him away. "Swab and load it," she instructed him. "It'll take longer, but I can't do it."

"You've got to be crazy if you think—"

"Do it, Baelfire!" It hurt. The pain was dizzying, but she knew she wasn't going to die from it, so she would push through. Clenching her jaw, she nodded in an attempt to reassure him. "I can wait. First we need to win."

"Absolutely crazy." He took hold of the swab, glaring at her. The way he went about the task, Emma could be certain he'd done it before, but he only loaded a regular ball, not the chain shot. When the command to fire was called, their cannon once again had a delay, and again it was obvious where that specific ball hit. This time, it bit a sizable chunk off the ship's bow, way down low where the water could spill in easily. After only a few carefully-measured breaths, Emma could see a notable tilt to the vessel as its front began to dip downward. Up above deck, they could hear excited whooping, giving Baelfire a smug smirk.

Once the ship started to go down, there was no hope for her nor her crew. Truthfully, there had been very little since the moment Killian had set eyes on them, but with her combined breaches, she flooded rapidly. Mere minutes had passed before the sea had swallowed her up, the surface climbing up to the the very tops of her remaining masts and then above them.

A few men still swam in the waters nearby. The Jolly Roger turned her sails and let them shrink into the distance.