Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom

plugs in at the same time to get anything like a tight seal.”
“Damn,” Jack said. “Tell them just to keep plugging it. We’ll have
to wait for daylight to try to get to the hole in the lower counter. We just
don’t have enough men to handle everything!”
Robby nodded. “I know.”
“I’ve been around the decks. Our lads are dropping where they
stand. The main deck looks like the last act of a tragedy, bodies
everywhere.”
“At least they’re sleeping bodies,” Robby pointed out.
“Yes,” Jack said. “At the moment, the count stands at three dead,
seven wounded. But…” he added, “by morning it’s likely to be four.”
Robby nodded. One of the topmen had a broken leg that was so
bad, pieces of bone protruded through the skin. The Wench had no
surgeon. The leg needed to be amputated. Frank Connery had
volunteered to undertake the job, as soon as he had finished his duties
as second mate, but Jack doubted the poor fellow could be saved.
“How are we doing on the pump, Robby?”
“So far we’re keeping the water level even, Jack. But that’s bound
to change.”
Jack nodded. Manning the bilge pump was hard work. His crew
was already exhausted. At some point, it was inevitable that they’d fall
behind. The Wicked Wench would take on more and more water…
until she sank.
“Thanks, Robby,” he said. “I’m going to take a look around, check
things over. Why don’t you stretch out in my cabin for half an hour, get
some sleep?”
“What about you? Jack, you’re wounded.” Robby stared at the
sleeve of Jack’s coat. The whole sleeve was wet, and if it hadn’t been
dark, it would have shown red.
“I’m too keyed up to sleep, Robby, and that’s the truth. Now go lie
down. That’s an order. If you can’t sleep, pray some more. We could
use it.”
Robby shrugged. “Don’t think I’m not, Jack.”
Jack took a lantern to light his way, and began walking the
perimeter of the weather deck. He was careful not to step on any
exhausted crewmen he encountered. It was a pleasure to see them