You try not to listen, but the cries of the wounded and dying pierce through to your very soul. A chill runs down your spine as though the Angel of Death has placed a hand on your shoulder. Soon the only sound is the ocean water lapping against the side of the ship. A warm breeze dances across the deck. The smoke ever so slightly begins to break up and clear.
All hands stand motionless, peering into the haze.
Through the smoke you spy the towering battlements of the besieged fort that overlooks the harbour. Barely visible in the distance, a white flag of surrender flutters in the wind. The crew rises in a chorus of victorious howls and cheers. You laugh out loud, you've never felt so alive. The hard fought day is yours.