“It’s Roberts. Take us closer at once.”
“But sir, they’ll be sunk in minutes,” a sailor answered.
The officers looked hard at Westley. I’ll see you hanged.
Westley smiled at the officer and held his gaze as he spoke to Trajan, backing away from him.
“How would you like to kill one more pirate today?”
Trajan looked up, confused.
Westley took a long, slow swing at him, and he just managed to get Inigo’s sword up in time to block the blow.
“What are you doing?” Trajan said, his voice cracking as he scampered backward. “Have you lost your mind?!”
“Possibly. But come on, now.” Westley took several more swipes at Trajan, who was fully on the defensive. “We must give them a good show.”
Trajan parried Westley’s intensifying blows until he fell over, losing his balance as the ship swayed, sinking.
“Stop it. I don’t want to fight you.”
Westley locked his sword with Trajan and pulled him in close as the blades pressed against one another.
“I’m afraid if either of us are going to survive this, you are just going to have to kill me,” Westley said, spinning Trajan around to face the Florinese ship, “and make it look convincing.” He thrust Trajan away, leaving a shallow slash across his forearm. Trajan fell onto his back as Westley assumed a fencing stance.
Trajan took it all in. He saw the warship, saw a lifeboat pulling away from the sinking Revenge, caught a quick glimpse of Mastan laying with his eyes closed. He saw Quidest holding a cloth over his forehead and watching them. He saw Archard, Inigo, and Kadir all watching them with rapt attention.
Trajan stood, used his arms to steady himself, and swiped Inigo’s sword through the air with his bloody arm. He gave a subtle smile at Westley, then raised his voice.
Dozens of Florinese sailors and officers later recorded with perfect clarity and admiration the words they heard across the water:
“Roberts, you’re finished. For Guilder, for Florin, and for a hundred other places who’ve been victim of your treachery these many years. Today you die!”
A cheer erupted from the warship’s crew.
Trajan sprang at Westley with fury, backing him across the angled deck. Westley punched him in the face and retreated to the top of the captain’s cabin as the Revenge’s hull capsized. Trajan grabbed Westley and wrestled him to the ground. Then he took a wild punch and hit him in the eye, drawing blood. Westley grabbed the wrist Trajan held his sword with, and they could both feel the ship sinking into the sea.
Trajan head-butted Westley so hard he almost knocked him out, and Westley dropped his sword into the water but still held Trajan’s wrist.
“I’m sorry,” Trajan said, “but I don’t know what else to try.”
“That will do,” Westley said, and with the last of his strength he threw himself backward into the sea, dragging Trajan with him.
The men sank like stones. Trajan tried to let go and swim but Westley clutched his sword hand with both of his hands. Then Westley gave him a shove and released him. Trajan opened his eyes but could barely make out Westley’s form, sinking farther into the churning water of the wreckage.
As the fear of drowning overtook him he almost let go of Inigo’s sword, but steeled himself. He started kicking upward.
“There,” Inigo said as the sword point breached the surface, followed by Trajan gasping for air and struggling to tread water. “Row to him!”
Kadir worked the oars and a minute later, he and Inigo hoisted Trajan into the lifeboat.
“Where is he?” Trajan coughed violently. “Did he surface? Where is he?” He turned around in the boat, saw the burning hull of the Revenge steaming as it fell below the water, saw the sun setting on the horizon, saw the Florinese warship with its crew crowding the deck, all staring at the lifeboat, and anchored in the distance beyond that, Wesley’s ship, still flying the Florinese flag.
“He did not,” Inigo said.
The water dripped from Trajan’s hair and he felt the sting from his wounded arm. He looked at Inigo’s sword, still in his hand. He dropped it and went to Mastan.
“Father, are you well?”
“I am,” Mastan said, though he didn’t rise.
“He will be, I believe,” Quidest said. “Come Kadir, we must get these men on board so we can get them warm and tend to them properly.” She looked at the sea. “There is nothing more we can do here.”
Inigo slowly nodded his approval.
Kadir took up the oars and rowed toward Wesley’s ship. The Florinese warship followed.
Florinese soldiers flooded onto their ship across the ladder. The surgeon noticed Inigo’s injury and knelt next to Quidest to examine his leg wound.
“These chaps don’t look too bad.”
Inigo snapped as he sat. “Hand’s off. Get off my ship!”
“Your ship is a flagged vessel of his Majesty King Humperdink,” the officer said from behind them.
Quidest raised her eyebrows at Inigo, who sulked but said nothing.
“Indeed it is,” Mastan said, slowly rising to his feet with Trajan’s assistance, in obvious pain. He clutched his newly dressed wound. “But we are not all subjects of your king.”
The officer sized up Mastan before addressing him with disdain.
“And who are you, sir?”
Mastan let go of Trajan and took a confident step toward the officer. “I am Mastan of Guilder. Former captive of the Dread Pirate Roberts. These men have rescued me.”
“And this is?” he asked motioning to Trajan.
“This is my father,” Trajan answered. “I am—”
Mastan interrupted. “The man who, before your eyes,” he raised his voice for benefit of the crew, “and your crew as well, killed the Dread Pirate Roberts.”
Many of the sailors cheered. Several said nothing. The officer rolled his eyes.
“Yes, indeed, that little display was most enjoyable. I have yet to see his body.”
“You’ll find it on the ocean floor,” Trajan said instinctively, then catching himself when he realized what it meant. He paused.
The officer held his gaze.
“Along with the dagger I put in his chest. Have a dive if you’d like,” and Trajan motioned to the sea. He took a deep breath and pursed his lips, afraid that if he spoke again he might lose his composure.
A long silence passed as the officer paced around the yacht with his hands clasped behind his back, taking in the situation and the motley individuals before him.
“And who are they?” he scoffed.
Trajan looked at his companions, all of them bloody, sweaty, and exhausted – Inigo laying with his leg elevated, Quidest leaning against his chest. Kadir crossed his arms and scowled at the officer. Archard walked away.
“They’re nobody.”
Upon hearing this, Inigo closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and put his hands behind his head.
“We watched these nobodies take on a ship full of pirates, to rescue a Guilderian, no less. I would say there is more to the story than that.”
“Hired mercenaries,” Trajan said, “They’re only in it for the money.”
The officer looked at them again and scoffed.
“Clearly.” The officer waved his hand and his aide clapped to attention to receive his orders. “Return our men to the ship. Send a party on shore to search for any of those pirates, and another to secure proper lodging.” He turned to Trajan. “And you, Guilderian, are hereby summoned to Florin to testify in person to King Humperdink of your encounter with Roberts. You will present yourself not less than two months from this date. Is that understood?”
Mastan laughed.
“Hardly. You forget yourself…sir. We are not your subjects.”
“The king has decreed that any man encountering Roberts must report to him personally. We can take you by force if necessary.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Archard said, emerging from below deck holding a leather journal and an ink stand. “Trajan lad, do give a hand and bring us that little writing table and stool.”
Trajan went below and retrieved the items. He set the table and stool in front of Archard.
“Yes, thank you.” Archard set the items upon the table and wrote with beautiful, fluid strokes with his left hand upon the page, which Trajan now noticed was the captain’s logbook.
Quidest came up behind Archard and pointed to his right arm, now in a sling from the arrow wound.
“I thought you were right-handed?” she said quietly.
“I am,” Archard answered, without looking up.
“What the devil are you doing?” the officer asked.
Archard held up a finger from his right hand as he continued to write. When he was finished, he admired the entry on the page, then stood and held out the quill for the officer.
The officer stared at Archard.
“It says that you and your officers are this day witnesses to the fact that Trajan of Guilder has killed the Dread Pirate Roberts. Be sure to sign your names big and clearly so future generations will know who it was who fired the shots that took down the most infamous ship in history.”
The officer took slow steps forward, looked at Archard, then his crew, and stooped over to write.
“Hired mercenaries, indeed,” he muttered.
When the subordinate officers finished signing, Archard took back the quill. “Rest assured, the lad will be happy to present himself to your king,” Archard smiled, “and collect his reward.”
The officer turned on his heel and stormed back to his own ship.
“Blasted Guilderians,” was the last thing they heard him say as he left.
When the Florinese ship had pulled away, Archard put his arm around Trajan. “You’re a very rich man, you know.”
Trajan looked back to the port side, to the patch of the harbor where the Revenge sunk. He spoke softly.
“I’m not rich. The cost was dear.”
Mastan put a hand on his shoulder. “Was it truly he?”
“Yes. His real name was Westley, and his widow is indeed the most beautiful woman who ever lived.”
“I say!” a voice faintly called out from somewhere.
Everyone looked around, bewildered.
“Do…help…please!” The voice again, clearly from overboard.
Those who were standing rushed to the port side railing and looked at the water. Clinging to the anchor chain they saw Westley, with blue lips, shivering.
“I’m…af-f-fraid I’ve…rather lost…the ab-b-bility…to climb.”
“Get to him, hurry!” Inigo stood, recognizing the voice. “Quidest, get him something warm to drink.”
Kadir stripped off his gear and boots and jumped overboard, swam to Westley, and held him as the others hoisted the anchor.
“Wessss…ley,” he introduced himself.
“Kadir.”
“P-p-leeasssed to meeeeet you.”
They pulled him up across the deck and laid him down. Inigo and Archard threw blankets over him, and Quidest handed Trajan a mug of tea.
“Here, give him this.”
Trajan handed Westley the mug and he took it, drank, shivered, and drank some more. After savoring the warmth for a moment, he smiled.
“Ah yes, thank you.” He took another sip. “I thought they would never leave.”
Inigo looked at Westley, then over to the sea where the Revenge had sunk.
“You swam all that way?”
“Yes.”
“Underwater?”
“Indeed.”
“Impossible.”
“Oh, quite possible. I could swim twice that length in my younger days.”
Trajan smiled, leaned forward and hugged Westley, then pulled back.
“We truly thought you were dead.”
“Yes, well…I’ve been dead before.”
<< Previous episode Next episode>>
Do you like what you’ve read so far? Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think. Nerds, check out The Nerd Cuts, where I take movies that fell flat for one reason or another and fix them with better endings, including Avengers: Endgame, La La Land, The Terminator franchise and more.
Follow me on Telegram, Substack, Truth Social, and Gab.