Jonas wiped salt water out of his eyes for the dozenth time and barely moved his sword quickly enough to block the green-nimbus blade that sliced directly at his stomach. The pirate’s skeletal grin filled his vision and the squire braced for impact only to see the phantom cutlass pass right through his sword as insubstantial as a passing mist. Jonas growled a low moan of frustration. The past several minutes since the collision of the pirate ship with the Cormorant had been a maddening clatter. . .