I was going to make the captain think the slave boat was going the be the pirate ship. But NickKmet's recent post gave me a whole lot of inspiration. I had to introduce those pirates! I really swear this time, this will be the last time i'll write something this long. 
Now, let's go kill some pirates and slavers!
As the storm gather on the sea and the fog was getting thicker and thicker, a chanting hum, like some sort of a conjuring song resonated over the waters. As the sound grew closer and closer, an object appeared on the horizon: It was a Ship of the line filled with more then 100 singing Yankee pirates, all armed to the teeth.
"Target ahoy!" Yelled out the cabin boy high atop the mat as he spotted the slave ship on the horizon despise the fog.
"Hey! You sure this time? It ain't another stinkin' steam ship?" yelled up one of the Yankee pirate.
"Oh yes! I'm sure! It fits the description all 'ight! And it's filled with "dog-mans"!"
All the pirates on board rushed to the deck and amassed to the port side. They were all ugly, many one-eyed, some lost a quarter of their hair and other lost completely a member of their body. The only ones who weren't admiring the show were the Shamans who were too concentrating on the rain dance that created the storm. They were humming vocables as they bang on Traditional drums while sitting down in a semi-circle around a ceremonial fire. Another shaman, an elderly, was clapping his hand, torso-naked to reveal his tribal tattoos and scars on his chest, hoping on one foot regularly during his dance around the bonfire.
The crews were mumbling to each other:
-"Hey! So that's our target, hey?
-Ayup, you betcha! It took us three darn days to reach that darn ship!
-Arrr! And them Shamans were singin' and singin'! Oh how i wish they were just shut thar trap! And the rain! Oh!
-So hey, why does the cap'ain want that ship so bad anyhow?"
That's when a poor Crew-member started to get beaten up after being pulled by the ship's quartermaster.
"Get back to yer post, you stinkin' varmints! All of y'all!" yelled the superior. "Get ready for boardin’!"
As the crew started to run around in all directions, preparing for combat, the cabin-boy slid down the mat before being stopped by the quartermaster. He was asked to give the looking scope before being kicked out of the way.
As the quartermaster was observing the forces on the row boat, he notice something.
"Hey... wait a minute... It's a slave-boat! That's our target? A slave boat! What's wrong with our cap'ain! Is he insane? Well that's it, this is the last drop! If i ever get my hand on him I'll..."
"You'll what?"
The quartermaster turned around and saw the ship's captain, "Steel-beard", wanted with more then 20000 Rupees on his head. This old but huge Yankee, born from the harsh lands of "The fields" in the golden Coast, was an old giant who once was the symbol of strength but now an crumbling senior missing his lower jaw, sitting on a big wooden wheelchair made of the strongest wood known in all of Aagrar. He was dressed gallantly, that is, for a pirate, for despise his old rugged captain uniform, many Yankee ornaments was dangling by his huge furry neck and his grayed hair.
By his side, his First Lieutenant: a very young man barely coming out of his adolescence. This one had a shaved head and a scared face. He wore nothing but sandals, a pantaloons and an open sailor jacket with ripped sleeves. He was holding a very large and tall umbrella that protected his dear captain from the rain. From his pockets dangled a dream catcher, a six shooter held by a strong string and his trusty saber which was comfortably sheathed in its scabbard. He had a regular height for a Yankee but when he's standing next to his captain, he looked quite small considering his head was far from reaching the shoulders of his sat-down boss.
"Well?" continued the second in charge. "We're waiting! What were you going to do to the captain? If you got something on your mind, speak up!"
The quartermaster sniffed his nose and courageously complained:
"It's been two darn months we've been at sea without reachin' land! No stops, no lootin'! When I boarded this ship, I expected to see "Steel beard" in action and you said we were huntin' down a "Big one". And for all this time, it was a slave ship!"
He started to angrily walk in a circle.
"We're runnin' out of food and drinking water, we're bored like hell and after standing for three days under the rain, we found-out we were after a cheap slave ship!"
That's when he stopped, the captain's trust looked at him with killing eyes. But the quartermaster glared back and continued his rambling.
"Yankees don't need slaves! What? Like we can't do our own tasks? This ain't us! Or what? Do you want an army of chained things underneath you, transporting you around like a plate of p'tatoes? Heck! We just spotted earlier on this morning a steam ship! An a big one! And it's following us like bait to a fish! Maybe it's filled with loot! Why didn't we board that one?"
That's when the captain spoke out in a large and deep voice.
"e'ough! Boy, 'etch 'e my 'aw!"
The First Lieutenant opened up a large container which was locked behind the wheelchair. In it was a prosthetic metal jaw, so great, that it had to be held with two hands.
After his lower mouth was installed, the captain could articulately answer to his subordinate's complaints. His hands were trembling of old age as he was revealing the man's plan:
"Are you trying to duel me for me ship, boy?"
The quartermaster laughed. "Well maybe Aye' am!"
That's when the entire crew member stopped working. They were all watching with their eyes wide open to the scene. The quarter-master was standing in front of the wheelchair in a akimbo pose: his hands were by his belt, near his gun holster.
The captain laughed and whispered in the ear of his trustee. The young man then pulled out from the wheelchair's gun holder an enormous six shooter gun. He carefully, placed it, with tremendous effort, by the leaning bar of the chair.
Both men were now ready to shoot. Everything was silent but the noise of the ship's coal engine, the waves banging at the hull, the thunders from the storm and the singing of the shamans who created said storm.
"Draw!" The mutinous man then yelled out. But "Steel beard" just laughed.
"What's so funny? I said draw!"
"Oh", said the captain, "it's just that ol' saying: "Yankees killing Yankees". It fit this scene here real well, no?"
He then proceeded and laughed some more.
"Oh that's it! Now you suck at jokes! Yer so getting it! Old timer!"
The quarter-master took out his gun from his holster in a flash.
"Die! You old fart...? Aaaah! My hand!"
The quarter-master fell down. But his right hand was flying up high in a jet of blood! As the whole crew all shouted in amaze, the defeated man was holding his bleeding wrist, confused and trying his best to understand the situation. That's when he notice a very young man was standing behind all this time, with his sword unsheathed, the second in command. Being born from "The Jungle", the trustee had the ability to mimic to his surrounding. The poor quarter-master was too busy staring at the captain to notice the kid sneaking away from his sight after he removed his jacket.
"Throw this bum out of here!" commanded the traitorous second in command. And with the laughter of merry men, the order was swiftly carried out. Before his farewell ceremony was performed, the cabin boy pointed out something to the defeated: "If yer lucky, that boat you wanted to sack will pick you up! ha!"
"You sea wooorrrrms!" The now one-armed man dove down into the sea.
After order was finally restored, the ship now headed straight on toward the row-boat. "Steel beard" and his trustee were both on the bow, observing their target from their scopes.
"They still have guards on the deck" Mumbled the captain. His subordinate knew what to do.
"Ready the cannons! Fill the engines of coals! Full steam ahead!" He shouted. The order was then repeated by every hand on deck.
When finally, everybody were too busy to notice the two men, the captain's trustee finally showed his weakness as he fell forward, worried, holding his face.
"We finally got'em because they lost some slaves! They died of exhaustion! Say, gramps, what if... What if mom's dead? What if we hurt her when we attack? And What if she's hold up in a small cage? You know her size! They can't possibly have a cage for her!"
The grand-father held his grand-son's shoulder.
"I highly doubt it. She is after all my daughter. If them Hajalman slaver did hurt her, I'll be more worried about them!"
The son then stood his head up.
"I'm comin', Big mama. I'm gonna free you. Yeah that's right me, the kid who could never reach your belly, even when I became 'n adult. If these beasts ever land a hand on you, I swear I'll cut them and eat them raw like the dogs they are!"
The captain of the ship turned his chair around.
"Fire!" He cried out.
