Rain poured in torrents, and the hull of the Royal Hound groaned as she fought against the storm. A cold, wet chill ran through First Mate Torlof as he struggled at the helm to hold course. How long had it been since they last saw land? 74 days at sea and still nothing. Nearly a third of the crew lost to disease and malnutrition, for what? For a fool's dream of an island loaded with ore.
23 men dead for a legend. And they won't be the last. We are all going to die out here.

A familiar voice interrupted Torlof's thoughts.
"Ay Torlof. Cap'n says you've been up 'ere long enough, and 'e said thats an order. I'm to take the helm before you get the fever. "
It was Marius, a good sailor and an even better friend. Torlof did not want to allow Marius to relieve him. Marius was sick, most of the men were, and they needed rest, especially in this weather. He had already sent Marius twice to politely tell the Captain that he would take the next shift. But an order was an order, and he knew in his heart that he did not have the strength to last much longer, he had long ago passed the point of exhaustion.

"Alright Marius. Take it. And may Innos protect you."
"Wait! I almost forgot, Cap'n also says to post a watch on the foredeck."
"A watch? Watch for what? There's nothing out here. And you can't see your own hand in in front of your face in this blasted weather!" Torlof said in shock.
"Cap'n said post a watch mate. 'E's a damned fool but 'e's the skipper. You don't 'ave a choice."

Soaking wet and grumbling to himself, Torlof headed below and walked aft towards the crews quarters, fighting against the violent rocking of the ship. The Captain was a damned fool, and he was risking the lives of the crew unnecessarily. Torlof and the Captain had been friends once, although it seemed ages ago. That friendship had been deeply strained by this voyage. Resentment against the Captain was also building amongst the lads, which could be dangerous. But the Captain was too much of a fool to take notice.
With a shove, Torlof pushed open the hatch to the crew's quarters and stepped inside. A foul odor of sweat and fever immediately assaulted his nostrils. He surveyed the crew, most of whom were dozing lazily in their bunks, sick from fever and malnutrition. A small group was sitting around chatting and playing cards, and another sat by himself playing a lute. Torlof tried to pick three of the more healthy men for the watch.

"Lars, Drago, Morgan...go topside and keep watch on the foredeck."
The men grumbled, but did not budge.
"I don't like it anymore than you do. But that's the Captain's orders."
Drago glared at Torlof and said, "Well than to hell with the Captain, and to hell with his lackey. If he wants someone to stand watch in this hell, let him stand it."

That was the last straw with Torlof. Drago had just challenged his authority as First Mate of the ship in front of the men. Drago had been a problem since they set first sail, always trying to shirk his duties, and a loud mouth and trouble maker among the crew. Torlof had reached his breaking point.
With lightning speed Torlof struck Drago in the mouth and sent him reeling over a small table in the crew quarters. Before he could recover, Torlof was on top of him and had a death grip on his throat. Drago could only stare wide-eyed in fear of Torlof, now that his anger had been unleashed.

His face red with anger Torlof growled, "Listen you dog, you are going topside one way or another. You are either going on your own, or I'll drag you topside myself and throw you overboard."
Drago knew he meant it, and barely was able to speak the word "Okay" through Torlof's powerful grip on his throat. Torlof released his grip, and Drago stood slowly and wiped a sliver of blood from his chin. Skulking off like a beaten dog, Drago headed topside without further complaint. Lars and Morgan both smiled in approval at Torlof as they followed Drago topside. They didn't like the idea of standing watch, but the crew disliked Drago and they were glad to see him finally get what was coming to him.

Torlof headed back to his own quarters, as First Mate of the ship he had a small room of his own. Finally getting out of his wet clothes, Torlof slipped into bed. He immediately fell into deep dreamless sleep to the rocking of the ship, and the moaning of its timbers.

It felt like he had only just gone to sleep, although it must have been a few hours when he was awoken by a loud rapping on his hatch.
"What?" he asked, still not fully awake.
"First Mate Torlof, Captain wants you topside. A man has fallen asleep on watch and punishment is to be given."
Torlof jumped out of bed, and immediately dressed. Rubbing his eyes, he began to head topside, wondering which man had fallen asleep, and what punishment the Captain had in mind.
Arriving on deck, Torlof barked at the crew to get into formation, most of whom had also just come from below decks. It was still early morning and the storm had broke, the sun had not long ago risen. The Captain and the other officers of the ship were standing on the poop deck, above the main deck. Standing with the officers was also Morgan, looking rather sullen.

Torlof strode up to the Captain to report for his awful duty.
"Lieutenant Janson found this man sleeping at his post this morning. First Mate Torlof, have this man tied to a mast at once and give him twenty lashes." the Captain sneered.
"Captain, the men are all sick with fever including Morgan. Perhaps a lesser punishment would be in ord-"
"Do not ever question my orders, First Mate Torlof. Laziness is not tolerated in his Majesty's navy and will not be tolerated in any vessel under my command. Now, tie this man to a mast and give him FORTY lashes!" the Captain responed angrily. Lieutenant Janson who was standing nearby gave a slight chuckle at the Captain's response.

Torlof bit his tongue and it took all of his strength to resist not striking the Captain. He hated him and many a night wished he would die from fever so they could turn back from this fool's mission. The Captain was a fool and would sail them all to their deaths in an attempt to make a name for himself. Lietenant Janson was even worse, a cruel martinet who Torlof believed actually liked mistreating the crew.
Motioning to two crewmen, Torlof had Morgan led to the main mast, stripped of his shirt and tied to the mast. In one hand Torlof held a cat o' nine tails ready.
"I'm sorry lad" he wispered to Morgan as he awaited the Captain's signal. Morgan just nodded grimly, but held no grudge against Torlof, he knew there was nothing he could do.

The Captain gave a short speech to the crew who were in formation, telling them what duty means and the penalty for laziness. He than gave the signal for Morgan to be flogged. With a loud snap the first blow struck Morgan's bared back and splashed blood onto Torlof's cheek. Morgan howled in agony as each blow stuck his back. Torlof winced each time he struck Morgan, and with each blow his hatred for the Captain grew. Morgan had stopped howling, but now began to sob as he was flogged. At the twentieth lash, he went limp as he passed out from the combined effects of pain and fever. Torlof stopped and looked at the Captain, half expecting a signal to stop of out of mercy. None came. Instead Lieutenant Janson ordered a bucket of cold salt water thrown onto Morgan's back to wake him, and to continue on.

*

It had been a ten days since Morgan was flogged, and two since he succumbed to the fever. Torlof sat quietly at the small desk in his quarters, thinking as he often did at night. He drank from a flagon of wine and wondered whether Morgan would have had the strength to survive the fever if he had not been flogged. Another crewman had also been lost last night, washed overboard in one of this region's frequent squalls. The crew's condition was getting worse, and food was getting short. If they didn't find land soon and resupply, men would die of starvation on the return trip.
That is if they ever return, that damned fool of a Captain will not give up on trying to find that cursed island.
Torlof slammed his flagon onto the desk in anger.

Standing and leaving his quarters, Torlof headed quietly to the supply room, where he had agreed to a secret meeting with some members of the crew. Sitting around on sacks and barrels in the dark were a dozen crewmembers, including Marius, Lars and Drago.
Torlof would make 13.
He wondered if that was an evil omen.

Lars spoke first, "That Captain is gonna kill us all. There ain't no ore-rich island out here, only disease and death. We got to do somethin' lads, or we'll all dead men. Mark my words."
"Aye, and the bastard went too far with Morgan. 'im and that damned Janson both," Marius chimed in.

For about half an hour the assembled plotters discussed their grievances and debated a course of action. Most of the talking was done by Torlof, Marius and Lars, with the others giving their approval or expressing doubt. Finally, the group seemed to have reached a conclusion.
Marius spoke up. "Torlof, we're ready to take the ship, if you'll lead us."
Torlof paused for a moment to think. He had tried his best to maintain order in the crew for most of the voyage, but now he had to agree the Captain had gone too far. He also saw no hope in the voyage, and continuing on their Captain's foolish quest would only lead to the loss of the ship and all hands. He felt as if there were no other reasonable course of action.

"Ok. We move tomorow, at midnight when most hands and the officers are asleep. Its important that we don't lose the element of suprise, the officers must be killed quickly. Also no one outside this room hears about the plot. Trust no one. Some of the crew are still loyal to the Captain, and others will be too scared to join in a mutiny. They'll fear the gallows and might rat us out. After the deed is done we'll give the others the option of sailing on to port with us, or disembarking at the first sight of land."
Torlof then laid out his plan for the mutiny.

The Following Night

Everyone was in position. Torlof had made sure only mutineers were assigned to duty that night, so they would not draw suspicion. The plan was that they would slip quietly below decks and murder the officers while they slept. Once that was complete, they would storm the Captain's cabin topside and kill him also. The Captain would have to be killed last since the door to his cabin was always locked, and it would need to be bashed down. Torlof did not want the officers waking up while they were doing this.

The mutineers slowly crept through the bowels of the ship, slipping unnoticed into the various officers' cabins. Drago kept watch in the passageway as the others headed into the cabins. His mind was racing and his heart was pounding. He remembered vividly the sight of pirates swinging from the gallows back in port.
Drago rubbed at his neck nervously and thought of the bulging eyes and stretched necks of those who had been hung.
We are all going to hang for this, it is folly. The navy will hunt us down. I'd rather take my chances with the sea than have my neck stretched. Its not too late. Its not too late. They'll be lenient on me if I warn the Captain, and he'll have to turn the ship 'round after a mutiny!
Drago had made up his mind, and rushed topside as fast as he could run.

Meanwhile Torlof and Lars had slipped into Lieutenant Janson's quarters. He was sound asleep and did not hear them enter. Torlof smiled as he slowly drew his sword and crept toward Janson. He looked at Lars and gave a slight nod. Lars immediately lept onto the bed and pressed his hands against Janson's mouth to prevent him from screaming. At the same moment Torlof drove his sword straight through Janson with such force that it impaled him and also went straight through the bed. Janson struggled briefly, but then went limp. Torlof was unable to pull his sword back out, it was stuck. Luckily Janson's sword was lying on a desk nearby.

Muffled sounds could be heard coming from the other officers' cabins. Everything seemed to be going according to plan.
No sooner had Torlof thought that when he heard a loud commotion coming from the passageway. The element of suprise had been lost, what had happened?
"Drago that son of a bitch. He's betrayed us!" Lars yelled after he glanced down the passageway. "The Captain has been alerted and the loyalists have come against us!"

The majority of the crew might have approved of mutiny, but most stayed in their quarters, some too sick to move and the rest too afraid to join the mutiny. Still, most wouldn't defend the Captain either. A number of loyalists had filed out into the passageway though in an attempt to block the mutineers from getting topside.
"Fight like hell men, if we can get the Captain, the others will give in", ordered Torlof.
With a fierce battle cry, the Mutineers charged down the passageway into the defenders. It was total mayhem below decks. Swords and axes clinked as they struck each other, and battle cries mixed with the horrible moaning and yelling of wounded and dying men. The deck was quickly becoming slippery with blood.

In the ensuing mayhem, Torlof, Lars and Marius slipped through the defenders and rushed topside. On the poop deck stood the Captain, along with Drago and three other crewmen who were still loyal to the Captain, or at least feared betraying him. In the sky a strange blue flare burned, a magical distress signal that would be seen for hundreds of leagues.
With a yell, the three mutineers charged the Captain and his defenders.
A crossbow could be heard discharging, and Lars collapsed, a bolt protruding from his throat. One of the defenders charged straight at Torlof with sword raised, but Torlof anticipated his strike and ducked, bringing his own blade across the legs of the defender. He screamed in agony and fell forward out of the fight. Marius with lightning speed dispatched another, lopping off the head of his opponent with his axe. Marius then rushed straight at the Captain, and a ferocious fight erupted between the two of them. Marius was having trouble though, as the Captain was an excellent swordsman. Torlof could not come to his aid, as he was busy with Drago and one the Captain's men.

Torlof gave ground to his opponents, skillfully parrying their lunges and strikes at him. Finally he saw his moment; as the loyalist charged forward and raised his blade to strike, Torlof bashed him in the face with the hilt of his sword, knocking the man unconscious before he even hit the deck. Enraged, Drago lunged at Torlof, who was able to sidestep the blow. The attack grazed Torlof's arm, and he howled in pain as he felt the sting of his opponent's steel and the warmth of his own blood running down his arm. The attack had thrown Drago off balance, and before he could recover Torlof brought his sword up and across his chest. With a slight moan, Drago collapsed to the deck, breathing his dying breath.

It was at this moment that Torlof saw the Captain standing over Marius, blood dripping from his sabre. Marius was on his knees, bent forward and facing Torlof, his hands clasping a slight wound in his stomach from which the blood flowed freely. Torlof picked up a loaded crossbow, dropped earlier by the loyalist Marius had slain. He aimed it squarely at the Captain. Seeing this, the Captain yanked Marius' head back hard, and pressed his sabre against his throat.

"First Mate Torlof," the Captain spoke, the sound of disgust in his voice. "Drop that crossbow or I'll cut this fool's throat from ear to ear."
"Kill 'im Torlof," gasped Marius, "I'd rather die now than swing from the King's gallows."
"Call off your men, Torlof, tell them to throw down their arms. Do so and I swear to you none shall see the gallows," promised the Captain.
"I have connections... family connections. You know this. I give you my word of honor that I shall obtain prison sentences for you all. Perhaps some of you may even be free men again someday. You will have achieved what you sought, you have broken me. My name and reputation will be ruined, since the ship is now forced to turn back and head to port in failure."
Torlof listened and was silent, pondering what the Captain had said.

"What alternative do you have? Should this mutiny succeed you know the navy will hunt you down. Survive as pirates for a while you might, but eventually you'll all see watery graves or swing from a yardarm. I know you care for the men, Torlof, and no more need to die if you would just be reasonable. We were freinds once. Or do you no longer trust my words?"
"Don't listen to 'im Torlof, the bastard deserves what 'es got comin'," Marius shouted.
But Torlof could not bring himself to kill the Captain. He knew that while the Captain might be a fool and a scoundrel, he was no liar. The element of suprise had been lost, and the magical distress signal would have been seen. They now did not have a chance of slipping quietly into any port undetected. As the Captain had said, they would be hunted by the navy until finally, the ship was sunk or they were captured. Torlof wished to spare the lives of his men, and the only way to do this was by throwing down their arms.

With a splash, Torlof tossed his crossbow overboard. Shouting above the din of the fighting below, Torlof ordered his men to throw down their weapons. Soon all fell quiet, and a handful of loyalists came topside and strode behind Torlof.
The Captain sheathed his sword and spoke.
"Bind the mutineers and throw them into the hold. All except Torlof, put him in shackles and take him to his quarters. He's not to leave except with my permission, and I want two men guarding him at all times."
"Aye, Aye Cap'n" replied the men, as they bound Torlof's hands behind his back. Two others rushed over to Marius, binding his hands and carrying him below deck.
The Captain then hesitated for a moment, and with the sound of defeat in his voice finally gave the order to turn the ship around and head to port.

Two Months Later

For many days and nights the voyage had passed the way back to port without incident. A handful of the crew, both loyalist and mutineer, perished from fever and malnutrition on the return voyage. Despite this, the crew's spirits had been lifted by the decision to turn back. The Captain, ever fearful of another mutiny, had also changed in temperament. Although resentful over the failure of his mission, the Captain was much lighter on the crew, perhaps learning his lesson a little too late.

And so Torlof now finally found himself on dry land, thankful to be alive. The trial of Torlof, Marius and their four surviving compatriots had been a short one, and all were handed quick guilty sentences after begging the mercy of the court. The crew members who had not acted to save the ship from the mutineers were all aquitted of any wrongdoing, although all were drummed out of the navy. The Captain had been true to his word, and had used his political connections to seek some measure of leniency on the mutineers. All would be spared death sentences, however the sentences were not as light as hoped.

King Rhobar himself had been enraged when he heard of the mutiny, blaming the mutineers on sabotaging a mission to find an alternative source of much needed ore. Due to Royal pressure, all of the surviving mutineers were sentenced to life, to be served at the infamous prison known as "The Colony."
The King was not pleased with the Captain either, who would never command one his majesty's vessels ever again. Instead he found himself transferred to the King's Army, with orders to report immediately to the front for the fight against the Orcs.

Torlof leaned back against the wooden walls of the wagon, listening as it's wheels creeked and rumbled over the battered road for miles on end. For two days they had been on the road, with little food or water. He glanced at the other mutineers, most of whom were sleeping in the straw scattered on the floor, their hands and feet shackled. Marius was awake also, and holding onto the metal bars of the wagon's only tiny window, quietly watching the countryside roll by. With a lurch the wagon finally came to a halt.

"What are they stopping for now Marius?" asked Torlof.
Marius coughed, choking on the thick dust the wagon had kicked up.
"Looks like we're finally 'ere mate, there's some sort o' platform over there and I just saw 'em send two men and a bunch o' supplies down on some sort o' pulley."

From outside came the sound of keys opening a padlock, and the other mutineers awakened, glancing nervously towards the doors. With a loud groan the two doors flew abruptly open, flooding the inside of the wagon with bright sunlight. So little had filtered in over the last two days that the men squinted and could not see much outside the wagon.
From the bright light came only the harsh voice of one their guards, "Get on yer feet filth, yer off to the Colony!"

The End