Rayn Shack. That’s my name. Well, it was before the accident. I was one of the most famous ships Admirals. I loved my job, my crew. But most importantly, I loved the sea.
It happened about two years ago. We were at war with the Russians. I was in charge of the fleet. We had decided to sneak into Russian territory and attack in the dead of the night. But they had the same idea. And unfortunately, they beat us to it. We were unprepared. They attacked. Within the first five minutes of fire two of our ships had sunk. And handfuls more were going up in flames. My ship didn’t stop. We went straight through the Russian fleet. I had one mission and one mission only. And if I succeeded Britain would win the war, and if I failed Britain would become the first slave camp for more than fifty years. And that job was supposed to be simple. Kill the Russian king… or get killed myself. I knew where the king was. I had a close friend who was a spy in Russian territory and also, a supposed-to-be close friend and trusted counsellor to their king. And every month she would relay secret messages to me in code, filling me in on the fleets positions and moves. But about their fleet attacking us, no, I hadn’t been warned. And the only thing that I could think that had happened was that she had been found out and died a terribly gruesome death.
At long last, we were through the fleet and all that stopped us from killing their king and winning this horrid, horrid war was sea, glassy blue sea. The only trouble was, was that it was going to take us three days to get to the Russian base but we only had enough water and food rations for one day. It looked like my crew and I would go hungry and thirsty again. But we had survived last time, and we could survive this time. But that’s when I heard a cry that I hadn’t wanted to hear! "Ship to bow, ship to bow." My heart sunk. I thought we had gotten off easily, but still, I hoped. "Load the cannons." I cried. I knew that none of our ships had got through except our own, so I knew it was the king’s, come to give us a royal death.
Metal on metal. I turned to see my newest member of the crew, Ensign Tanner, he was so young, so inexperienced, that he didn’t know never pound the cannon ball till it was set. Smoke, coming out of the end of the cannon. I saw it. But no other crewman did. "Ensign get away from that cannon!" I yelled and ran forwards to save him. He looked up, but not at me, at the end of the cannon. Then he gazed at me, his face as white as snow. "Admiral," he squeaked, his voice full of fear.
I heard an almighty explosion! A searing heat! A searing pain! The cannon had exploded. I could tell that Ensign Tanner was dead and that I was only just alive. And that was the last thing that I can remember, before blacking out. But I did know one thing for curtain; I had failed my mission…
What seemed like seconds later, but which was more than likely hours or days, I started to hear voices. I recognised some of them. As I became more conscious, I realised that they were the voices of my crew. One thought crossed my mind: it was all a nightmare, none of it ever happened. Then my heart sank. I could smell smoke, not from a cooker or a hearth, but the smell of burning flesh. It was all real and my ship was burning, along with my crew.
My second-in-command, Commander Senack, was shouting orders.
"Every one to the life boats. All hands abandon ship!"
I moaned slightly as I tried to move. The Commander turned and looked down. He kneeled beside me.
"Rayn," he signed a breath of relief. "I’m glad to see that you are alive." And then remembering our present circumstances, "Come on, we have to get of this ship."
That’s the last thing I remember clearly except for heading towards land in a lifeboat. I must have blacked out, as the last thing I remember partially, is a bright light in my face. We must have been on Russian soil. We must have been captured as the first few slaves.