Preview: The Far Side of the World (Patreon)

Somewhere near the Davis Strait, 1763

“She’s coming about!”

“Stand firm, lads, stand firm!”

“Take cov—”

The world was consumed by smoke and fire, and for a moment there was the sensation of flying. Then, for some time, darkness.

When Acting Lieutenant Greg Universe regained his composure, he felt something wet on his forehead, and could hear nothing but ringing in his ears. His vision was blurry, though there was little to see but smoke and raining splinters. Where was he? How did he get here? Such sense had been knocked from his head that he couldn’t immediately recall.

He blinked the blur from his eyes, slowly sitting up, even as every muscle in his body protested. He was the gundeck of a warship - yes, it was the Vanguard, a frigate of thirty guns. She was here catching smugglers hiding in the north, in the capes and rivers at the top of Canada. He’d been placed in charge of the larboard guns… against smugglers? Did that make sense.

He gazed out of the yawning hole in the hull where one of the cannons had been. Out of the fog of cannon smoke, he could see her - a frigate, much bigger than Vanguard, perhaps fifty guns all told - French, undoubtedly. Yes, he remembered now; she had come from the fog and ambushed the British frigate, and there had been no time to react.

The ringing was fading now - he could hear a terrible choir of shouts and screams. Around the broken gun he could see the limp forms of the crew. One was clearly expired, his shoulders bereft of a head - another, covered in blood, moaned and writhed on the splinter covered floor. The third was pinned under the cannon, crying out to all who would listen. A glance down the gundeck showed a similar sorry story - the Frenchman had given them perhaps the perfect volley, and the larboard guns had been effectively eliminated.

“...Mr. Universe… MR. UNIVERSE!”

Greg turned, and there stood the First Lieutenant, red-faced not only from shouting but from blood trickling from a forehead wound.

“Get to the quarterdeck and inform the Captain we must turn!” he shouted. “The larboard guns have been swept away!”

“I… yes sir!” Greg tapped his hat, only to find that it was no longer on his head. He patted his head in an attempt to find it.

“Now!” screamed the First Lieutenant.