Blackburn sneered at the large gilded crustaceans. Without a word, he drew the first of his pistol pairs, took aim and pulled the triggers. He was rewarded only with a damp ‘plak’, as hammers met the wet powder. With a dissatisfied grunt, the pirate holstered the pistols, only to draw the next pair. Again, he was awarded an ignominious slap of useless gunpowder. Stubborn as he was, Blackburn drew upon his last pair of pistols, trying them again. When no thunderous clash met his efforts, the raccoon swore loudly.
“Me blade was confiscated, as it were, by me treacherous crew. Patience would see me powder dried, but t’would seem these glimmering beasts seek to make a meal of us.” Blackburn gestured at the crabs, looking a little worried at their stature. “I wager the two of ye don’t have a spare blade a’tween ye?”