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Chapter Text

It took the four Musketeers- Athos, Aramis, Porthos, and D’Artagnan- about a week to reach Normandie, now settled down at the harbor at Barfleur. 

The ruckus that had brought them there was occurring in the Baie de Seine, the start of the sea known as La Manche (more commonly known as the English Channel to the British).

“I don’ mean ta keep harpin’ on it, but how can we be the best opposition against a bunch ‘a pirates?”  Porthos asked anyone who would listen.

“As I have stated more than once, Collaart’s antics have risen to the point where the Palace can no longer ignore them.  The King is tired of hearing of the former Admiral’s continuous success in the attack on our fishermen.  It’s becoming an embarrassment, and I would tend to agree.”

Flemish Admiral Jacob Collaart had gone from a decorated military man, to become one of Europe’s most feared pirates.  In recent months, him and his men, aboard their ship the Revenge, have had unparalleled success in attacking French herring fishermen, stealing and selling the catch, and taking the French sailors hostage.  The neighboring villages, all too eager to reunite with their husbands and sons, have more than once now paid the ransom, especially in light of the menacing demeanor of the men involved.

“Is this more about your fear of water, Porthos?”  asked an amused Aramis.

“I don’ have a fear ‘a water- it has ta do with havin’ a fear a’ drownin’”, he clarified.

“Oh.  I see.  Drowning in what?  Dirt?” 

“WATER!!!!” Porthos angrily growled back.

“Water, oh yes that makes sense then,” Aramis smirked.

D’Artagnan snorted.

“Smart-ass,” Porthos muttered.

Porthos’ fears were somewhat ameliorated by the fact that Captain Treville did not send them off willy-nilly without some preparation.  Musketeers had been dispatched prior to their own departure, on the news that some of pirate Collaart’s crew, numbering fifteen in all, had taken a ‘shore leave’ of sorts, and reports of their whereabouts in the close-by town of Fecamp led Treville to send seven Musketeers, who successfully captured seven of the men, while two had been killed in self-defense while trying to escape.  The remaining five were returned to Paris.  Collaart, however, was not among those that were captured or killed.

So Porthos liked the odds at least; four of them against eight of them.  Many would still believe them to be outnumbered, especially in light of the fact that Jacob Collaart was amongst the remaining crew.  Rumors of his leadership, as well as his ruthlessness, were not the be taken lightly.

But Porthos knew that he and his friends had faced worse odds, and had lived (and triumphed) to tell the tale, usually over drinks at the Wren, where battle details were never, ever exaggerated, despite Aramis’, D’Artagnan’s, and Athos’ claims to the contrary.  For basking in the glory of a well-told tale was one of Porthos’ favorite things.

Chapter Text

As they had now arrived in the harbor town of Barfleur, where the Revenge was docked, Athos felt it was time to revisit the plan of action.

“Collaart will be looking to replace the men he lost.  All we need to do initially is introduce ourselves as candidates, in order to get an invitation onboard.  We either engage them then and there, or, if the occasion isn’t optimal for an attack, excuse ourselves and regroup.  That is to say, we say we are in, but now just need to collect some belongings and return.  That excuse may need to be amended depending on the situation.”

The Musketeers had all left their uniforms back in Paris, in order to reinforce the subterfuge that they were mere commoners amenable- eager, even- to join the ranks of Collaart’s men.  However they were indeed armed with both their swords and muskets as well, so as to make it clear they had the hardware necessary to attack and do harm to citizens eager to fight them. 

Gaining access to the ship was important, as Collaart and his men, while on land, had reportedly used gunpowder and destroyed the homes of the most vocal in resistance against his men.  The Musketeers not only needed to stop this crew’s acts of terror, but also either obtain, or destroy their weapons.

D’Artagnan asked, “And by ‘engage them’, you mean attack them?  With what?  Until we get a chance to prove ourselves, they’re extremely unlikely to allow us on board with the swords and muskets we bought.”

Athos smiled, secretly impressed by how D’Artagnan was visualizing what was to come, and thinking tactically about the encounter ahead of them.

“That will be another point to act on as the time comes.  The plan is to boast of our battle expertise, such as expert swordsmanship, and offer a demonstration on board.  It’s almost a certainty that they will endeavor to only take on men who can handle themselves in a fight.  Depending on how much their guard is up, we improvise from there.”

“Boasting about our expert swordsmanship,” D’Artagnan repeated.  “That must mean that you all wish for me to take the lead on that, then.”

All three Musketeers smiled.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Athos replied.  “And, of course, the success in this mission depends upon your ability to follow orders, D’Artagnan.  So what are the odds of that occurring?”

“I follow orders!” shouted a very offended young Gascon.

“The thief on Rue Marsalle,” Porthos said.

“The damsel in distress at Chateau de Foix,” Aramis added.

“Biting the recruit during training, after repeated reminders of the ‘no biting during training’ rule,” Athos said.

“I- sometimes follow orders,” D’Artagnan said, in a noticeably lower voice.

‘WAIT!  What are the odds?  I see a bet brewin’,” Porthos laughed.

Their shared mirth was ended by the sight of the ship that had to be the Revenge at port in the harbor.

“Here we go,” Aramis said.

Chapter Text

Not soon after arriving at the harbor, the four men noticed a small melee occurring, involving three men, apparently harassing some locals.  The three men were dead giveaways as pirates, wearing headscarves, sashes, and plenty of jewelry- clearly these men had criminal pasts that went beyond the simple terrorizing of fishermen.

As the Musketeers slowly approached, the taunting of the men began to be heard:  “…whenever we wish.  So stand back if you value your necks.  Our Master Collaart would not approve.”

So this is not the infamous Jacob Collaart but some underlings, Athos thought.  Therefore engaging them now would not suffice, as they wished to cut this problem off at the head.  

“You- you have no right to do this!”  One of the local citizens protested.

By now, the Musketeers were infiltrated with the other citizens.

Porthos then did something that startled his brothers, but only for a second.

Porthos punched the citizen, hard, in the stomach.  The man yelped, then keeled over in pain.

As the poor man looked up at his unexpected assailant, Porthos pointed to the pirate and said, “You’d do well ta listen to him, mate; ‘cause ‘e’s the law aroun’ here now.”

Porthos’ brothers had recovered long enough to get behind him in body language and attitude, smiling in approval at his words.

“Surprising to see how some of you know who now makes the rules here,” the pirate said.

“Oh, we ain’t any ‘a them- ‘eaven forbid,” Porthos continued.  “We- just want in on a piece ‘a the action.”

“Yes- we heard rumors in town that those bastard Musketeers, shall we say, thinned your ranks recently,” Aramis said.

“And what of it?” the Pirate asked.

“If we can get in on a share of your spoils, I think you can find ourselves valuable,” D’Artagnan quickly replied.

As the Pirate could not honestly say that they weren’t interested in new members in light of recent events, he hesitated before saying “And how do I-“

He was interrupted by Porthos throwing an apple he had bought at the local market, and throwing it high into the air.

Without hesitation, Aramis had unsheathed his musket, fired, and effortlessly blew the apple into a dozen pieces. 

Athos opened his arms wide in supplication and said, “If you will allow, we can further demonstrate our value elsewhere.”  Athos hoped ‘elsewhere’ would be interpreted as onboard the ship.

The pirate stood silent for a long moment, then turned to his two comrades.

“Take their swords and muskets.”

After they had done so, the Pirate ordered:  “This way.”

As the Musketeers followed, Aramis caught Porthos’ visage.  He whispered, “It worked.  You took advantage of an opening.  Remember the ultimate goal is to take these men down so that these people will be molested no more.”

“I know, but-“

“That man will survive your punch.  And ultimately will benefit from what we will be trying to do here, I assure you.”

Chapter Text

Once on board the Revenge, moored to the harbor, the four Musketeers quickly took stock of their surroundings.  What became immediately obvious was the stock of cannons and cannonballs of every type- bar and chain, bundle, grape and cannister… while the Musketeers were unfamiliar with the vernacular, they were impressed by the vast array of weaponry they were seeing.  They also had to assume that below deck, various pistols, grenades, muskets, and daggers were present, as reports of these pirates terrorizing citizens on land sometimes mentioned such weaponry being used, sometimes to merely threaten, but also sometimes actually used to maim or kill.

“Captain!”  One of the pirates called over.

They were being introduced to the famous Jacob Collaart.

“Who have we here?” Collaart asked.  He was fully decked out with the thickest leather belt that any of the other pirates were wearing, calico shirt and jacket, jewelry that adorned both his fingers and around his neck, baldrick to hold his pistols, and hat.

“These four- they said they wanted to join us,” Jussac, one of the Captain’s closest right-hand men, said.

“Is that so?  And why is that?”    

“They said-“

Aramis interrupted.  “We can speak for ourselves. 

“You seem a little short of men.  We wish to demonstrate that we are worthy of joining your crew.  We are of fine stock and are, we promise, guaranteed to raise the level of expertise and, from the looks of things, intelligence amongst your ranks.”

Some of the pirates advanced towards Aramis at that.  But Collaart waved them back.

Research on Treville’s part uncovered the fact that Jacob Collaart was a former Admiral in the army, well decorated and highly educated and intelligent. What turned him into the sadistic, ruthless pirate Captain he was today was beyond Treville or anyone’s knowledge, but Treville had impressed upon his men that using smarts and intelligence (along with their fighting prowess) might go a long way towards differentiating them from the rest of Collaart’s men.

Athos used the pause caused by Aramis’ words to continue.  “We will defer to any test of our alacrity with our muskets and swords as you deem suitable.”

Good, big words, Athos, Porthos grinned to himself.

And so it was that the four Musketeers were each selected by Collaart to match up with one of his men at a time.

He could never have guessed that selecting Athos to demonstrate his skills with a sword was perfectly advantageous.  ‘First blood’ as the gauge for victory barely lasted thirty seconds, with Athos the winner, of course.

“This one shot an apple to pieces after that one shot it in the air,” Petr, another pirate, mentioned to Collaart helpfully.

As a result, Petr drew several harsh glances from the other pirates.  No one wished to tip Collaart’s hand to Aramis’ skill, especially in light of his remark about their intelligence.

“Really.  Alright, then, our bowsprit has been useless of late-“ Collaart pointed to the slanted spar, or pole, at the bow, or front of the ship- “hit that from here and we will talk.”

Aramis quickly confirmed which pole that Collaart referred to.  Then he said, “Too easy.”

As Aramis walked towards the stern of the ship, further and further away from the mark, Athos walked closely beside him.  Out of earshot from the rest he whispered, “Is this really a time to show off, or should we simply do as asked and shoot the damned thing?”

“Athos.  Please.  It is to insult me to shoot something so closely.  Do you wish for me to impress, or wow them with an awe-inspiring display?”

“To impress.  Simply to impress,” Athos replied furiously.

“HOW ABOUT FROM HERE?” Aramis shouted to Collaart, ignoring his brother.

Collaart raised his arm in approval.

Aramis took the shot.  The bowsprit cracked in half, the sound of the impact startling one of the unaware pirates that was close-by, making him jump.  Despite themselves, all of the pirates laughed.

As Aramis and Athos rejoined the group, Collaart said, “Impressive.”

Quickly trying to tip things more in their favor, Athos quickly said, pointing to Porthos, “And John here can wrestle anyone here and best them without even breaking a sweat.”

“I suppose some expertise when it comes to hand-to-hand combat could be useful, even in light of the fact that most of these men in town are cowards,” Collaart quipped.

The embarrassment of the pirates continued, as Porthos/John dispatched one of the pirates senseless in less time than it did for Athos to best his opponent with his sword.

Collaart turned to Athos, who he began to see as their informal leader.  He pointed to D’Artagnan and asked, “And what is this one good for?  To simply look pretty and service the three of you on his knees?”

D’Artagnan blanched at that, but held his ground.

“True, he is young, and not yet up to our talents, but he is enthusiastic and possesses the flair for both sword and musket that few his age has,” Athos said.

Collaart waved at Athos.  “I have seen enough.  Jussac, give these three back their weapons and show them to their quarters.  They are with us now.”

“And this one?”  Jussac pointed to D’Artagnan.

“Make him a dogsbody- he can clean and serve.  No weapons.”

As Collaart made his way to his Captain’s quarters at the stern of the ship, Jussac led Porthos, Aramis, D’Artagnan, and Athos to the stern, and the crew’s quarters.

D’Artagnan whispered to Athos in a pout, “But I didn’t get a chance to show off my expertise!!!!”

Athos replied, “And what would that be, exactly?  Aggravating people to death?  Perhaps we simply need to lock Collaart and his men in a room with you, and an hour later, open the door to find them all dead, having shot themselves with their own pistols, so as to avoid another moment alone with you!”

Porthos pointed to Athos and said, “’At’s a good Plan B.”

After they settled in to the crew’s quarters, Jussac gave a quick tour of the ship.  A trip to the lower deck was an eye-opener.

There was a cadre of gunpowder barrels.  D’Artagnan could hardly control the shiver that went down his spine, as they looked exactly like the ones that Vadim and his men had tied him to so long ago now.

This was also the place where the extra cannonballs were stored.  Looking at the volume, it seemed as if the Revenge would not lack in cannonball power for a very long time. 

Then, trapped inside of a cage, were five men, looking haggard, tired, and clearly beaten.

Five fishermen.  Currently hostages.

Before the Musketeers could even enquire about them, one of the prisoners shouted “Please.  Please.  We haven’t even been given water today.”

Juassac looked over to a fellow pirate and said, “Jules.  This true?”

“I was getting to it.”

“Get them their supper and water now.  Five dead men will get us no ransom at all, you dolt.”

Jules scrambled away to do just that.

One of the feistier of the fishermen said, “And who are these four?  New recruits to your despicable band of miscreants?”

“You watch your tone, unless you wish to skip your food and water, shakeragg,” Jussac spat out.

The looks of derision pointed their way unnerved the four Musketeers, who did their best to continue to betray no sympathy towards these poor men.

“You have no honor!  You will all pay for this!” the fisherman said as Jussac and the Musketeers made their way back up to the upper deck.

“This is now also a rescue mission,” Athos managed to whisper to Aramis, clearly unpleased at the new complication facing the execution of their already tenuous plan.

Chapter Text

Back at the crew quarters, Jules said to D’Artagnan, ‘What is your name?”

“Richard,” D’Artagnan said.

“Well, Richard, make yourself useful and help me shlep the fishermen their dinners.”

D’Artagnan paid close attention to Jules’ unlocking of the cage housing the fishermen.  Jules then waved D’Artagnan inside the cage to follow him, as both held the rations to feed them.

D’Artagnan could not help but notice the daggers the collective eyes of the fishermen were throwing at him, as he provided them their food and drink.  He looked at the slop masquerading as food that was being provided the men, and could not help but almost gag.

But the reluctant but eager manner in which the men ate the food told D’Artagnan that they had been deprived food for so long now, that anything of sustenance was to be eaten.

When Jules re-locked the cage, D’Artagnan made a mental note of where he stored it- around his neck- as he knew it would be instrumental in freeing these five poor souls.

When the four of them reunited at night in the crew quarters, Athos kept his voice low when he spoke.

“It is doubtful that they will allow us to congregate alone together for any given length of time, so know this:  without this ship, Collaart and his men become completely powerless to anyone they wish to rob, or harm.  They literally have all of their eggs in one basket, so to speak.

“Therefore, it is simply a matter of freeing those five men, then blowing this ship up, using the gunpowder barrels below deck.  I am no sailor, but it seems obvious even to me that where they are placed, them igniting will send this ship to the bottom of the harbor in less than an hour.”

“Jules keeps the key to their cage around his neck.  If I can just get to it, I can free them,” D’Artagnan said.

Porthos said, “I found fuses.  Could be used to ignite the barrels from a distance safe enough to light, then escape the ship.”

“Perfect,” Aramis said.  “I suggest we-“

Aramis’ comment was cut short by Jussac, who said “Time for bed.  You will take separate cots.”  At this, he, Petr, and another pirate, Jean, escorted all four Musketeers to separate areas within the crewman’s deck.

Continued plan coordination would have to wait. 

Two more days passed.  D’Artagnan used the time to gain Jules’ trust in feeding the prisoners.  His plan was to ultimately ask to take over the feeding duties, thereby opening the door to asking for the key.

Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, having proven themselves fight-worthy thanks to their demonstrations of their particular skills, were guests of Captain Collaart.

D’Artagnan, for his part, was no more than an unnecessary appendage, and therefore relegated to menial duties such as cleaning the deck, and assisting in feeding the fishermen held hostage.   As a result, Collaart’s decision to unofficially deem him a lower class of crew member meant that his interaction with his three brothers was extremely limited.  His separation from his partners also gave license to the other pirates to insult him, and also made him have to endure both verbal and physical blows, when the opportunity presented itself.

“You heard the Captain,” Jean, one of the pirates, taunted.  “Ya think his talents lie in- lying with his mates?”

Jules pushed D’Artagnan as he laughed at Jean’s comment.  “Probably,” he said.

D’Artagnan held his tongue- and his fists- thinking it not the best time to cause a ruckus.  Best to brave the taunts for now.

Chapter Text

In the Captain’s quarters, Captain Collaart asked Porthos, Aramis, and Athos:   “I must say, I was impressed with the talents each of you demonstrated the other day.  Where did you learn your respective skills?” 

Athos said, “In the military.  However, as each of us come from modest backgrounds, after we served at La Rochelle, it seemed the King had little use for his soldiers, and we floundered, underfed and unappreciated.  It was then that we decided to- fend for ourselves, using the skills we learned.”

The Captain seemed to be considering Athos’ story.  Then he said, “Unfortunately, the King’s Musketeers captured and killed some of my most skilled crew members.  I would like you three to accompany me into Barfleur tomorrow.  I will need sufficient muscle to convince the locals that our hostages are weak, hungry, and sick, and that the time to pay the ransom is here.”

“We would be honored.  But- what is our cut?”  Aramis asked.  Not doing so, he thought, might raise suspicion with respect to their true intent.       

“You are crew members now.  The sharing will be the same as the others.  The details of which can wait until after you prove yourselves.  My other crew members will join us tomorrow as well, of course, and you will be under scrutiny until I am convinced you have earned the right to join our ranks.”

And with that, they were dismissed.

Athos wasted no time in sharing his thoughts, as he knew time alone with his two brothers would be limited.  “Accompanying Collaart with his men would be eight against three, assuming they all join us.  If we fail, they will still have their ship.  Plus, it increases the odds that some citizens in town might be injured, or worse.”

“So what are you saying?  It sounds as if we should try to blow the gunpowder barrels up before he can accompany us off the ship,” Aramis said.

“Exactly,” Athos said.

“We gotta see where D’Artagnan is with getting’ ‘is hands on that key,” Porthos reminded them.

“He must act quickly,” Athos said.

Porthos then asked, “Blowin’ up the ship is one thing, but then what of Collaart and his men?  We jus’ allow ‘em to escape?”

“No, then we track them down here in Barfleur.  Once the Revenge sits on the bottom of the Baie de Seine, they are impotent to cause any further harm.  If we successfully accomplish that, I have no doubt that the four of us will be ably assisted by all the townsfolk and bringing them to justice should not be a difficult task.  That is, if they even manage to escape the ship before it sinks.”

Unbeknownst to his older brothers, D’Artagnan had finally been successful in entreating Jules to relinquish the key to the hostages’ gate.  Jules, never one to work any harder than absolutely necessary, seemed all too eager to turn over the feeding duties completely to D’Artagnan.

However he needed to find his brothers to ensure his release of the hostages was coordinated with the attempt to sink the ship.  They needed to know that he now had the key to the fishermen’s release.

He was under the watchful eye of Petr, who would question any attempt on his part to reach the upper deck of the Revenge.

But his gut was telling him that Petr wasn’t the sharpest tack in the box made him try something.

He went up close to Petr and said, “I need to retrieve something of mine in my quarters.”

“What?”  Petr asked.

“This,” D’Artagnan said, punching Petr square in the face.  Petr recoiled backwards, giving D’Artagnan the opportunity to come from behind him, choking him until he was unconscious.  D’Artagnan then moved the insensate Petr behind some crates, out of sight.

He ran past the hostages, to the upper deck.

Several of the fishermen, witnessing this, yelled at him:  “What are you- LET US OUT!!!”

 D’Artagnan, hesitating, told them:  “I- need to tell my friends- I will be back, I promise-“

This did not sit well with the men.  “What do you mean?  You cannot abandon us!  Let us out!”

Now the row and men’s yells exploding from the scene he had created could not be quelled.  If the pirates hear on the upper deck, their plan would blow up before they could do the same to the ship.

As their shouts grew even louder, D’Artagnan hesitated, then opened the gate.

“Keep quiet and as soon as you get above, make for the dock and get off!  Take cover if you see any of them, as they might engage…”

None of the fishermen seemed to be listening, as escape seemed to be their only concern.  They raced past D’Artagnan quickly, headed above deck, possibly ready to be shot by any of the pirates as soon as they appeared at the upper deck.

Oh, this is going to go well, D’Artagnan thought to himself.  Athos is going to kill me- now getting to light the fuse might be impossible…

Chapter Text

Above deck, Aramis, Porthos and Athos were performing some menial tasks apart, as Collaart had clearly instructed they be separated as much as possible.  Their swords and muskets were close-by.  Porthos had a found flint on his person at all times now, in order to light the fuse at any given moment.  

Of the eight pirates, Athos and Aramis had six of them in their sights, one of them being Collaart himself.

Suddenly, the released prisoners suddenly began appearing from the lower deck.  As they made it up, the Inseparables barely had time to register their surprise.  They all began to grab their weapons, as several of the pirates’ attentions were clearly focused on their escaping hostages.  D’Artagnan was in tow, maneuvering in front of the hostages, in order to provide a defense. 

As three of the pirates, armed with daggers, ran towards the hostages, Athos, Porthos and Aramis dispatched all three with their muskets and swords.  Another gave chase, but was easily felled by Aramis’ sword.  Four down, four to go, thought Aramis.

“Porthos! The FUSE!”  Athos yelled.

Porthos ran unmolested to the lower deck in the confusion.

Suddenly a shout rang out:  “The sailors!  They’re escaping!”  It was Collaart.

“Go go GO!!”, Aramis waved at all five men, safely making their way to the dock, off of the ship.

The remaining pirates were now storming the upper deck, two of which were coming straight at Athos and Aramis. 

Athos, Aramis, and D’Artagnan, separated in different corners of the deck, had to take cover from the hail of bullets the three pirates dispatched from their pistols.

The standoff went on for a few minutes when suddenly, Porthos emerged from below deck.  He was able to give a ‘go’ signal to Athos, meaning that the charge was lit.

Time to go.

Aramis’ last shot hit his target, felling Jussac. 

Captain Collaart saw Porthos and wondered what he was doing below deck.  Seeing only two of his men left, he knew that they were no match for these three skilled imposters.

Saving his ship was of paramount importance.

He glanced down and the illuminated trail of the fuse to the gunpowder barrels was all that he needed to see, for realization to kick in.

His ship was lost.

He began running to the edge of the ship, directly above the gunpowder barrels below him, jumping overboard his only option lest he be blown to bits in the blast.

At that same moment, Athos then got Aramis’ attention.  Seeing Porthos running for his life, Aramis did not need to be told what to do next.

They all began in the direction to depart the ship. 

They were about to do so when Athos suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Where’s D’Artagnan?”

Aramis looked back and scanned the deck to see D’Artagnan, weaponless, chasing Collaart.  He was in the middle of the deck, away from them, running towards the lit fuse directly below him.  Does he even know that Porthos lit the fuse?, he wondered?

“D’ARTAGNAN!!!!!”  All three Inseparables yelled. 

“Get back here, NOW!”  Athos shouted.

Surely the barrels were about to blow.

“He’s escaping!”  D’Artagnan can be heard to scream, running towards Collaart, his back to his brothers.

“NO- get BACK!  That’s an ORDER!!  The fuse-“

“I have him!” D’Artagnan yelled, as he closed the distance between himself and Collaart.

“NO!  You-“

Athos’ words died in his lips as a massive explosion ripped from the bowels of the ship.

Smoke, splintered wood, flying flotsam, and fire camouflaged everything on deck.  Aramis, Athos, and Porthos were physically thrown from the Revenge onto the dock leading to the ship.

“N- no,” was all Athos could croak, picking himself up. 

It seemed an eternity for the smoke to clear on deck.  All three were already running back on board, mindful of the gaping hole on the deck now sported due to the explosion from below.

Finally the smoke settled.

There was a body on deck.

Once visibility cleared, it was apparent that it was Captain Collaart.

The Captain’s body lay in a grotesque heap, unmoving.  Aramis was the first to get to him.

Athos and Porthos both ran past, completely uncaring for the state of the insensate pirate Captain.

Where the hell was D’Artagnan?

As Aramis confirmed that Collaart was dead, he ran to join his brothers.

As he did so, he simply said, “He’s dead.”

“WHO?!” Athos demanded, still furiously looking for his younger brother.

“Collaart.”

“I don’t CARE about Collaart!  Where is D’Artagnan?!”  Athos bellowed, almost taking Aramis’ head off.

All of them then suddenly staggered to the left, as the ship began to list to one side.  Water was now flooding the lower deck rapidly, causing the ship to tilt more and more with each passing moment.

Porthos said, “’E may have been thrown clear,” running to the edge of the deck.

His brothers followed.

As they all made their way to the edge of the ship, what they saw as they looked overboard made their collective hearts lurch.

There, lying face down in the water, was D’Artagnan.  Bobbing up and down was the only motion he showed, due to the slow movement of the waves.

Chapter Text

Aramis jumped overboard.

Porthos and Athos stayed frozen in place as Aramis, missing the mark by a bit, quickly swam towards his younger brother.

Aramis turned D’Artagnan over, inspecting him but helpless to do anything else while wading in the deep waves.

Holding onto his all-too still baby brother, he quickly began swimming around the ship, which was now sinking at an alarming rate.

Porthos and Athos tried to run across the deck in order to get off the ship, but the tilt of the Revenge was now getting so pronounced that running in a straight line was already close to impossible.  It was all they could do to saunter, drunk-like, as they made it to the dock.

The dock itself was now higher than the sinking ship, so they had to jump in order to escape the doomed Revenge before it was too low in the bay.

As soon as they were off the ship, they ran in the direction they saw Aramis heading, Porthos in the lead, charging as fast as he can.

Later, he would be left to wonder if he actually heard, or imagined, the strained, pained sounds of Athos yelling ‘no, no, no’ behind him as he ran.

Then Porthos heard desperate shouting in front of him as well.

Aramis had just reached the beach, laying on the sand, exhausted, still clinging on to D’Artagnan.

The shouts were coming from a crowd that had gathered.  Some were yelling that they help the poor man with the one who had appeared to have drowned.

But more were against it.

“They’re two of the pirates!  Throw them back in and let ‘em drown!”

“STOP THEM!  Do not let them ashore!”

As Athos and Porthos approached, one of the people in the crowd pointed at them.

“THERE!  TWO MORE!!!  GET THEM!”

Aramis was too fatigued to defend himself when some of the crowd began kicking him, as well as D’Artagnan, despite the fact that he was unconscious, so great was the hatred that the townsfolk felt about these horrible pirates.

As the townsfolk continued to beat Aramis and D’Artagnan, the crowd advanced on Athos and Porthos.

Athos pulled out his spent musket.  He pointed it to the air.

“THE PIRATES ARE DEAD!  IT IS OVER.  These are my friends,” he said, as his voice lost it’s power.

“And why would we believe you?”  One of the enraged citizens yelled.

“WAIT!  This one…”

A man who was just attacking Aramis and D’Artagnan a moment ago stopped, pointed to D’Artagnan and said, “This one!  He freed us!”

Suddenly everyone halted their attack.  Aramis then went back to medic mode and attended to D’Artagnan.

“D’ARTAGNAN!”  Aramis yelled, in between administering air to his young brother’s mouth.

“I- thought his name was Richard,” the former hostage said.

“He is- we are- King’s Musketeers.  We were sent to infiltrate, and stop, the pirates,” Athos offered as he diligently watched Aramis with D’Artagnan.  “We set their gunpowder and blew her up,” he said matter-of-factly as he pointed to the almost completely sunk Revenge.  “Captain Collaart and his crew are dead.”

The mood of the crowd changed in an instant; with the ship clearly lost, and no sign of the pirates, they were now all riveted to Aramis’ every ministration in trying to help D’Artagnan.   

The fisherman said, “He knocked out that bastard Petr.  Then he unlocked the- cage we were in.  He saved us all…”

Aramis grew more and more frantic as his attempt to dispense air into D’Artagnan’s lungs, then pumping onto his chest to get him breathing, seemed to be not yielding any results.

“Aramis…” Athos could not form the words.

“He’s not breathing,” Aramis announced with a tortured voice.

He was clearly exhausted; first, from swimming to shore with the boy in tow, and now after repeated ministrations to revive him, he had nothing more to give.

Despair mixed with weariness and Aramis could not help but emit a weak “He is gone, he is gone….”

“He- he rescued us…” the fisherman said.  His wife, who had joined them, was hugging her husband.

Porthos ran and dropped alongside Aramis.

“Tell me what to do.” 

“P-Porthos…”

“TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”  Porthos bellowed, loud.

“You saw me- the same thing.  Not too strong- your breaths might…”

Porthos was already mimicking what he saw Aramis do, placing his mouth over his young brother’s, and exhuming breaths, attempting to get D’Artagnan breathing again.  He followed by performing chest compressions.

“Not too hard- you don’t want to break his ribs!”  Aramis admonished, suddenly daring himself to be hopeful again now that his big brother was assisting.

Not a sound but the warm laps of the waves could be heard.  Everyone was perfectly still, except for the quiet pleads of prayer.

“C’MON, pup, c’mon…”  Porthos pleaded.

Some of the women present could be now heard to be sobbing.  The desperate efforts that these men were trying to revive their friend was truly heartbreaking.

Athos fell to his knees, which disappeared into the wet sand.  “Disobedient fool,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

Suddenly, as Porthos pressed once more on D’Artagnan’s chest, then followed with breathing into his mouth, D’Artagnan lurched and coughed up water.

A huge ‘whoop’ went up in the crowd, followed by, inconceivably, some applause.

Athos got up from his knees and before he could smother D’Artagnan, Aramis waved him off and attended to the gasping boy.

Aramis patted D’Artagnan’s back, then began rubbing it gently.  “Easy, easy, easy…just breathe…”

D’Artagnan coughed a bit more, then finally opened his eyes, still panting.

Aramis grabbed Porthos into a bear hug.  “Thank you, mon ami,” was all that he could say.  He was weeping with joy and gratitude at his bigger brother’s efforts, accomplishing what he could not.

Porthos smiled and returned the hug.

Still a bit insensible, D’Artagnan’s first words were “H-he’s escaping…”

“He is dead.  They all are,” Athos said.

D’Artagnan finally got hold of himself and looked around. 

But everyone’s attention moved from the poor young man’s rescue to the groaning sound of the Revenge about to completely sink under the bay.

The sound of machinery, weaponry, and everything else on the massive ship as it sunk below the sea’s surface gave off a crushing sound that had the people on the shore yelling in awe; they then began cheering and shouting animatedly at the disappearance of the ship that caused them all such misery.

The three Musketeers’ attention turned back to D’Artagnan as he sat up, then asked, “So we did it?”

Porthos answered, “Well, I did it, actually.”

“And they are all gone?”

“All dead, D’Artagnan,” Athos said.

“Thank you for rescuing us,” the fisherman, on his knees in front of D’Artagnan, said.

Porthos raised his right hand and said, “Um, I lit tha fuse…”

He then looked a little put out when all he got as a response from the fisherman was a shy smile.

As Aramis and Porthos both helped D’Artagnan to his feet, the crowd seemed to swarm around them.

“Thank you!!  Godspeed!”

“God bless the Musketeers!”

But, suddenly, Porthos found himself the victim of a swift kick to the shin.

“OW!  What was THAT for?!?!”, he demanded.

“You punched me in the stomach the other day!!”  the man replied, hot.

Aramis smiled, then quickly recovered and said, “Monsieur, believe me when I say that my friend has been out of sorts ever since he did so- we needed to ingratiate ourselves in with the pirates, you see, and Porthos here thought a good way to begin to do so was to show that we were siding with them and not the general populace.”

The man glanced over at Porthos, and he could not deny his contrite countenance. 

“Well, I suppose it all worked out in the end,” the man said, his tone much softer.

“And by the way,” Porthos said, pointing to where the Revenge was harbored no more, “I lit tha fuse.”

Athos rolled his eyes.

Then the wife of the freed fisherman who had identified D’Artagnan as the one who had freed him and his friends insisted they all accompany them to their house.  “Please come to our home!  You all deserve a home-cooked meal!”

Porthos suddenly forgot his wounded pride and smiled.

But Athos, pointing to D’Artagnan, said, “Thank you, madame, but we must decline your offer, as it would send the wrong signal, as this one is going to need to be punished.”

D’Artagnan, on his feet and suddenly very alert, said “What?!?!?  What for?!!”

“FOR DISOBEYING ORDERS, AGAIN!”  Athos yelled.  “Really, D’Artagnan- what part of ‘get back here, now’ did you not understand?!”

Aramis said, “Really, Athos, do you truly think this is the best time to-“

“But he was escaping!”  D’Artagnan interrupted.

“An order is an order!  How many times do we have to tell you that you do not get to decide if the circumstances warrant whether or not you get to obey an order?!!”

D’Artagnan pondered his mentor’s words for a few moments, then replied:  “But- he was escaping!”

Aramis snorted; Porthos burst out laughing.

Athos shook his head, his resolve melting.  With decidedly less heat, he said, “And what was the idea of releasing the hostages before we could arrange to set the fuse?”

“I- I didn’t think-“

“Stop right there.  Truer words were never spoken.”

“The plan was always to free the hostages before setting the fuse!”  D’Artagnan shouted.

“Only after Porthos was in place to do so!  Their premature release got the notice of the pirates and jeopardized his ability to get anywhere near the gunpowder barrels!!!”  Athos was yelling again.  Really, this young Gascon will certainly send him to an early grave.

D’Artagnan’s wordless pout had the fisherman’s wife interrupt.  “That’s enough.  I will not allow any more scolding of this young hero, do you hear me?”  She took a forlorn-looking D’Artagnan and pulled him into a tight hug.     

“Agreed, madame- all’s well that ends well, hmmm?” Aramis said, smiling at Athos, the wordless message:  Cool down.  Breathe.   

Porthos took the opportunity to address the fisherman and his wife.

“We’d be honored to be your guest for a meal,” he said.  If he was going to be robbed of his personal moment of glory, by God, he will not be denied a home-cooked meal.

Chapter Text

After the meal, and more hearty thanks from the family for all they had done, the four of them were finally ready to make their way back to their horses for the trek back to Paris.

Before they did so, the wife of the fisherman admonished Athos in front of his brothers.

“And don’t you dare punish this good young man- he freed my husband and- nothing he could do can warrant him being punished, do you understand?”

Athos was too much of a gentleman to argue with this woman, who, after all, had just let them all into her home, and fed them a delicious meal.

What he did not need to see was D’Artagnan, standing behind the woman, grinning at him with the vexingly annoying self-satisfaction of the victorious. 

“Of course,” he replied politely, while shaking his head at the impossibly aggravating boy.

As they made their way home on their horses, D’Artagnan suddenly remembered his first few moments of consciousness on the beach. 

He suddenly asked, “Porthos.  When I awoke on the beach.  Did you- were you- kissing me?” 

Porthos laughed out loud.  “Yes, I kissed you.  What of it?”

“Why? Why were you kissing me?” 

“Can I not show you my undyin’ love for my baby brother?  You got a problem wit’ it?”  Porthos asked.

D’Artagnan, completely confused, could only answer, “I suppose not…”

“Wait!  I kissed you too!  Do you not remember?”  Aramis chimed in.

“No,” D’Artagnan had to admit, to Aramis’ apparent dismay.

“As the rumor of famed lover Aramis’ kisses being the most memorable in all of France goes up in smoke,” Porthos teased.

D’Artagnan still oblivious as to what was going on, still laughed and asked Athos:  “Wait.  Athos.  Did you not kiss me as well?”

“After your pathetic display of disobedience, you should be glad of getting out of here without a proper flogging, let alone absent a kiss from me, or anyone,” Athos scolded the boy.

D’Artagnan thought better of pushing the point any further.

“Take it from me, D’Artagnan,” Aramis said, “you’re not missing much.”

“Right,” said Porthos.

“Wait.  What?!”