The ship judders as the cannons blast, almost knocking him from his feet.
“First mate, report!” He commands.
“Direct hit sir, but it's not slowing them down.”
“Prepare to fire again!”
The mate relays his orders, as the Black Dog grows ever closer.
“Fire!”
The ship rocks with the recoil, unsteady. Then a boom in the distance, the enemy returning fire. There's an almighty cracking noise as the mizzen-mast is shattered.
“It's no use, Captain,” shouts the mate, “They'll have us now!”
“Prepare to repel boarders!” He commands, drawing cutlass from his belt.
A second cannon ball rips through the hull, knocking him from his feet.
“John, what are you doing?” a female voice asks.
He looks up to see his girlfriend, Hilary, leaning over the duck pond.
“Sorry,” he says, “lost my footing.”
“You're such a clumsy oaf,” she laughs, standing and extending her arm to help him. As he rises, she gently pats his arms and chest to loose any dirt. “Ready for a cuppa?”
They head back towards the cosy little tea shop they'd passed earlier, pausing as they enter to enjoy its tinkling bell.
