The engagement, which had been miraculously quiet – almost serene – until now, became a cacophony of booms as the Barbary pirates fired all of their guns. Then it became silent again, as no one would have time to reload before it was all over. Jack's view below was temporarily clouded by smoke. He was looking almost level across to the port galley's tall mainmast, which had a narrow crow's nest near the top. It was an obvious target for a grappling-hook and indeed Jack snagged it on the first throw – then, pulling the slack out of the line, was almost torn off the fore-top as the ships rocked in opposite directions and their masts suddenly spread apart. Jack decided to construe this as an opportunity, and quickly wrapped the rope round his left forearm several times. The next movement of the ships ripped him off the fore-top, putting a few thousand splinters into his abdomen, and sent him plunging into space. The rope broke his fall, by nearly pulling his arm off. He whizzed across the middle of the galley in an instant, seeing just a blur of crimson and saffron, and a moment later found himself hanging out over the blue ocean, ponderously changing direction. Looking back the way he'd just come, and was shortly to go again, he saw a few non-combatants staring back at him curiously – including one of those slave-drivers. When Jack's next pendulum-swing took him back over the galley's deck, he reached out with the sword and cut that man's head in two. But the impact of sword on skull sent him spinning round, out of control. Flailing, he swung back over the deck of God's Wounds and slammed into the base of the foremast hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs and make him let go of the rope. He slid to the deck and looked around at a number of men's legs – but not legs he recognized. The whole ship was covered with Janissaries, and Jack was the only one who'd done any fighting at all.